with high-powered glasses while two others checked the interior of the swamp and the outer edges. None of them were very thorough, which led her to believe they weren’t military. She couldn’t tell exactly what they were doing or why they were there.
She had no choice but to head inland using the cover of brush and trees to get close enough to see them. With each step she sank into the mud nearly to her ankles. Behind her the dark water filled her tracks so it was impossible to see which direction she’d come from. She muted the sounds of her feet going through water and mud so there was no chance of giving away her presence to the intruders.
There were four men. Two shifted position continually, obviously uncomfortable in the humidity and spongelike surface of the marsh. Each time they moved, the mud made a squishing sound around them. The man with the binoculars would glare at them occasionally, annoyed by their constant motion. He objected when the fourth man lit a cigarette and it was put out instantly when he snapped the command to do so.
The men never approached the houseboat, simply observed the comings and goings on the water. They hadn’t staked out her airboat or the Jeep. In fact none of them checked on the vehicles in the parking area, or the boats tied to the pier. She watched them for a long time, unable to as certain what they were doing. After about a half an hour, the group of men entered the swamp, carrying what looked like supplies. They didn’t look like trappers or hunters, but it was possible they were scientists. She knew several studies of the marsh were being conducted. “It’s possible, Flame, even probable, that you are becoming paranoid.”
She scooted backward until it was safe enough to stand in the concealment of the trees. As she made her way back to the Jeep, she tried to rub some of the mud from her clothes and kick it out of her shoes, but it was impossible. Swearing under her breath, she drove along the frontage road until she saw an older woman walking along with her groceries. She offered her a ride and quickly accepted the offer of a shower and a change of: clothes. She drove very quickly to Gator’s house. She was fifteen minutes late and he jerked open the door before she could even knock.
“About time you showed up,” Gator greeted, stepping back to allow her into the house. “I was getting worried about you.”
“I had to take care of a little business. I’m not normally late.” Why had she said that? Flame nearly groaned aloud. She didn’t need to explain or apologize.
She followed him into the kitchen. The room smelled of corn bread and jambalaya. A large pot on the stove simmered and a tea towel covered a plate of cookies. She couldn’t help inhaling the scent of freshly baked bread and cookies she couldn’t identify, but her mouth watered.
Only then did she notice the house was strangely silent. Her muscles tensed with sudden suspicion. “Where is everyone?”
Gator didn’t answer. His gaze drifted over her, almost as if he were drinking her in. The intensity of his perusal caused a strange reaction in her body, her heart doing funny little flips and her womb clenching tightly. Up close, in broad daylight, she found him unbelievably attractive. There was a quirk to his mouth and a hint of laughter she found as sexy as all get out. His fingertips brushed her face, feather-light, his touch so gentle she was nearly disarmed on the spot.
“You’ve been doing recon.” She stood very still, holding her breath as he brushed at another spot on her chin. “You didn’t get this near my house.”
“No. Someone was nosing around the houseboat. I thought it might be you, or a team sent by Whitney to assassinate me.”
His eyes narrowed and his mouth hardened perceptibly. “Who was it?”
She was inexplicably pleased with his reaction but forced herself to give a casual shrug. “You don’t want anyone stepping on your toes?”
“Absolutely not. If anyone gets to do you in, believe me. honey, it’s going to be me after all the grief you’ve given me. Who was it?”
She frowned. “I’m not sure. They didn’t look military or particularly skilled as fighters. Only one of them seemed competent in the bayou. The rest made too much noise. I didn’t recognize any of them.”
“What did they want?”
“I have no idea. I left them to a hot afternoon in the swamp. They’re sitting on
Burrell’s little island and it’s going to be uncomfortably muggy. If they’re looking for me…”
“Is it possible Saunders had homing devices in the briefcases?”
She scowled at him. “I’m not an amateur. That was the first thing I checked for. In any case, the briefcases are at the bottom of the canal.”
“I don’t like this.”
“I didn’t like it much either,” she admitted. “On the other hand, they didn’t seem interested in the houseboat or the cars so more than likely they were trappers and had nothing to do with me.”
“I’m coming home with you after you visit with
“No one invited you,” she pointed out.
“So invite me because I’m going home with you.”
“Be still my heart. I feel absolutely faint. Your charm is just overwhelming me.”
“Let me see your knife.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re obsessed.”
He was, but not with her knife. “Stop stalling. Put the weapon on the table.”
“Weapon?” Her eyebrow shot up. “Why would you think I only had one? I brought a freakin’ arsenal along just in case you wanted to go a round or two.” She leaned close so her breath was warm against his ear. “Does it turn you on?” She pulled a long knife from her boot and spun it in her hands, smirking a little at him. “Nice balance, but not the best for throwing.” She laid it on the table.
It wasn’t the same blade she’d had the night before, but he was beginning to think he had a kinky streak because something was turning him on. “Just how good are you with that?”
“I only carry it for show.” She reached behind her neck and withdrew a second blade. It was quite a bit smaller. “This is a great throwing knife. One of my favorites.” She placed the knife beside the larger one.
It wasn’t the one she’d had strapped to her thigh the night before either. “Is that all you’ve got,
“Course not. I knew you might have a couple of friends along, you know, just in case things got a little too hot for you to handle. I’m not afraid of you, but you do so hate being alone with me.” She withdrew a thin wire, placed it beside the knives and added three small throwing stars. Her belt yielded a small tool kit that had two lethal- looking instruments beside the pick tools, and she pulled a small metallic round disk, innocent looking until she popped open the curved blades.
“Anything else?” The knife from the night before still wasn’t on the table. He scowled at her, but she simply flashed him her killer smile, totally unrepentant.
“You wouldn’t want me to strip naked, now would you?” She reached for the largest knife. “A girl has to have her secrets.”
“The idea has possibilities.” He pinned her wrist to the table while his other hand slid over her jean-clad bottom to the inside of her thigh. Even without the feel of her skin he found himself getting hard. “Where is it?”
Her gaze turned turbulent, a dark smoldering promise of trouble. “I don’t like being manhandled so I’m going to
He removed his hands, but crowded her close. “Don’ be threatening me in my grandmother’s house,” he reprimanded. “Where is it?”
“If you act like an ape in your grandmother’s house you can expect to be threatened a lot. Where is what?”
“The knife. The knife from last night. You were wearing it in a very intriguing place and I’m rather fond of it. Where is it,
“You really believe that you’re utterly charming, don’t you? I’m not wearing a dress. It’s my dress-up knife. So sorry. Let me know what you want in the way of accessories next time and I’ll try to accommodate you.” She turned her head. “We’re about to have company. I’m putting my toys away now. I don’t share well with others.”
“You don’ do much of anything well with others,” he observed.
