Night Game

you, cher?” she asked, with a quick smile for her grandson.

Flame blushed, uncertain what Raoul’s grandmother was asking. Surely she wasn’t inquiring as to whether or not he’d taken care of her sexual needs? It didn’t help that Raoul pressed against her back, his breath warm on the nape of her neck, both hands cupping her bottom right through her tight jeans. She smiled at Nonny and slapped at Gator’s hands behind her back.

“He was-unbelievable.” She found herself stammering.

“Unbelievable?” Wyatt echoed, his eyebrow shooting up. “He was unbelievable?”

Flame’s color deepened and she cast him a glare. “Astonishing.” That was worse. What was the matter with her? It wasn’t her fault, Raoul was distracting her with his roaming hands. He had a fixation with her butt and she was going to have to do something mean right there in his grandmother’s home if he didn’t stop. Did one get aroused in front of other people? She never had, but then that was before she met the Cajun king of perverts.

Gator put his lips against her ear. “Mind-blowing?” He helped her out. “Or maybe that was you.”

Flame cleared her throat. “I couldn’t believe how attentive he was last night, Ms. Fontenot.”

Wyatt burst out laughing. He nudged his brother “You were attentive. Just how attentive were you?”

“Remember, cher, you were going to call me Nonny.”

“Yes, of course.” Her temperature was rising right along with her color. It was so hot she wanted to fan herself. She kicked backward with her heel, driving it into Gator’s calf with a satisfying thud. “Thank you so much for the clothes, Nonny. They fit beautifully, even the shoes.”

Gator’s breath exploded out of his lungs and his hands came down on her shoulders hard. At least she knew where they were and he couldn’t distract her.

“My friend told me about a nice boutique for young women and they had everything. It made it easy to shop.” Nonny said. “I just made a cup of my special tea. Would you like some?”

Gator’s fingers began a slow massage along her collarbone and up toward the nape of her neck.

Flame’s face was bright red. She could feel the color, hot and bright, glowing like a neon banner for everyone to see. What nice shop? Did it specialize in sex toys? Did she dare drink the tea? It could contain an aphrodisiac. “I’d love a cup of tea.” Her voice nearly croaked.

“Are you certain you’re all right, cher?” Nonny asked. “Maybe you’ve gotten out of bed too soon. Raoul, maybe you should take her back to bed.”

Wyatt nudged his brother, winking. “Grand-mere wants you to take her back to bed.”

“Thas no way for a gentleman to talk, Wyatt,” Nonny reprimanded.

Wyatt grinned at her, clearly unrepentant.

Flame let out her breath in a long hiss promising retaliation. It had to be Wyatt who provided her night attire and the sex toys. She’d find a way to get even, but at least it enabled her to relax a little around Nonny.

“The kitchen is a mite crowded. The boys have been eating since they got here, Raoul. I don’ think those boys have had a good home-cooked meal in a long while.”

Flame stiffened. This was getting worse and worse. She had a feeling the “boys” weren’t Gator’s other two brothers.

“Grand-mere,” Gator said, kissing his grandmother on the forehead, “those boys have never had cookin’ like yours. You’re the best of the best and everyone in the bayou knows it. I can’t blame them for eating so much.”

“They’re good, polite boys,” Nonny said. “I don’ mind cookin’ for them.”

“That’s a good thing, Nonny, because Tucker never gets filled up,” Gator said.

Kadan and Tucker stood up as the women entered room, Tucker grinning at Nonny a little sheepishly.

“I finished up the gumbo, ma’am. I’ve never had anything so good.”

Kadan nodded his agreement. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“No need for that, boys,” Nonny said, looking pleased. Flame felt the impact of the two GhostWalkers’s gazes. Hard. Penetrating. As if they were looking straight through her to see inside of her. She became aware of Raoul’s hand then, his fingers stroking hers, covering her fist curled around the hilt of her knife. He was very close to her again, his body deliberately crowding hers so it would be difficult to draw the knife and throw in one smooth motion.

“They’re my family, cher,” he reminded, his lips close to her ear.

Flame felt the stirring of his warm breath, heard the reassurance in his voice, but her gaze immediately covered the room, noting all exits, windows, and every single item she could use as a weapon should she need it.

“Flame, this is Kadan Montague and Tucker Addison. Both are my friends and work with me,” Gator said.

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” Tucker greeted.

Kadan registered the fact that she hadn’t loosened ha grip on her knife and Gator’s hand held hers stationary. “I hope you’re feeling better. Gator told us you won a fight with an alligator.”

She forced a smile that didn’t reach her eyes and made a conscious effort to open her fingers and let go of her lifeline. “Well, I don’t know about that. He lost an eye and I nearly lost an arm, so I’d say it was a draw.”

“Rye called this morning and said the man you identified as Rick Fielding died four years ago running an ops in Columbia,” Kadan announced.

“That’s impossible. He took the psychic test the same time I did. I’m not mistaken,” Gator protested. “It was the same man.”

“You probably aren’t mistaken,” Flame said. “If I had access to a good computer I’d run a list of names of soldiers who took that test, supposedly didn’t make it in but were listed as dead or missing a few months later. My guess would be they’ve become part of another team and someone with a lot of money and a lot of contacts is running them.” Kadan’s gaze had such an impact she hunched, but refused to look away from him. She brushed palm over the hilt of her knife for reassurance.

“I’d agree that running that list of names and comparing them to men who are supposed to be dead is a very smart idea,” Kadan agreed. “I’ll pass it on to Rye and see what he comes up with. He also mentioned that a couple of days ago a U.S. registered Falcon 2000 executive jet landed at the airport here and remained until yesterday. The jet is owned by a company called Lansing International Consulting.”

“Where’s this company based?” Gator asked.

“They’re out of Nevada.”

“I don’t understand,” Wyatt said. “Why would a jet be important?”

“Those men we encountered in the swamp,” Gator said, choosing his words carefully, “had to have been flown in.”

Kadan cleared his throat and continued, “One signature appears on the company’s annual report, an Earl Thomas Bartlett. Ryland ran a search of all commercial databases and there is no record whatsoever of Mr. Bartlett. No residence, driver’s license, Social Security number, or even evidence of a vehicle, yet Mr. Bartlett signs reports and sends jets to various locations all over the world.”

“Who was the jet purchased from?” Flame asked.

Kadan’s strange, glittering gaze met hers, sending another chill through her. “You’re smart. That was the first thing Lily asked too. The jet was purchased from another company, one called International Investments. Like Bartlett, the owner of that company doesn’t seem to exist in any public records.”

“He’s alive,” Flame whispered. She looked at Gator, stricken. “He is alive. I was right all along.”

Gator held out his hand to her and after a moment, she took it.

“Unfortunately, Flame,” Kadan said, “I’m beginning to think you could be right. This aircraft, as well as a few others like it, owned by private international consulting, investing, or marketing companies, appears to be able to fly into restricted areas and that takes clearance. The companies Rye’s looked into all have the same low profile, claim to make small profits, turn in their annual reports, and each has one man who doesn’t appear to exist at the helm. Ryland’s still investigating and it will be a while before we know anything else, but in the meantime it would be a smart move to be on high alert.”

“Any news out of the Congo on Ken Norton?” Gator asked.

“Not yet. No one’s heard anything,” Tucker said.

“Come sit down,” Nonny said, pulling out a chair at the table. “The tea’s done and we could all use a cup.” They complied quickly, although Tucker hung out by the stove, inhaling the aroma of the fish stew slowly cooking. Gator