Night Game

it.”

Saunders lifted his glass. “My reputation precedes mc?”

She smiled at him and wandered around the room touching the various whips. They were all real, obviously made to produce as much pain as possible. “It certainly does. I thought I’d come check it out for myself.” She leaned against the rack letting him get a good look at her figure. All the while she rubbed her hand back and forth on the spikes. “You like to hurt women, don’t you, Mr. Saunders?”

Her fingers mesmerized him. He watched the way she caressed the cold steel, almost as if it were a phallus symbol. Her voice was unbelievable, a sexy, sultry purr that made him as hard as a rock. Ordinarily he didn’t allow the sluts to speak to him, but the sound of her voice vibrated through his body and played on his nerve endings like those stroking fingers.

“It turns you on and makes you feel big and powerful, doesn’t it?”

He wanted to move toward her, but the room seemed to shift out from under him. He lurched unsteadily, wondering if there were earthquakes in Louisiana. He’d certainly never experienced one before.

The door burst open and Emanuel Parsons stumbled in. “You son of a bitch. You killed my boy, didn’t you?” He had his back to Flame, so intent on confronting Kurt Saunders that he hadn’t checked the room for other occupants. “The cabin is gone, burnt to the ground and they’re all dead. Everyone is dead.”

“How the hell did you get in here?” Saunders set his glass carefully on the table, his hand remaining casually over the top of it.

“He was a good boy until you got him into your depraved way of life. You didn’t want witnesses.” Emanuel tapped his cane on the floor. “You didn’t have to have him killed, Kurt.”

“I had nothing to do with the cabin burning. I have no idea what happened out there. I figure Vicq got pissed and went crazy. He’s always had a screw loose. As for your boy, he loved taking a woman and using her the way she was meant to be used. You always wanted to, but never had the guts. Get the hell out of here, Parsons. You make me sick. And don’t think you can try to take me down. I’ve got enough on you and your son to bury you.”

“I won’t have to take you down. The military was all over the area. Helicopters, forensic people, some pretty powerful people are shuffling through the debris and not anyone I knew. That tells me something, Kurt. They didn’t trust the police. Why wouldn’t they trust the police to investigate? Because I was under suspicion. And that means they know about you. I wouldn’t have to do a damned thing to take you down, but you killed my boy.” Emanuel Parsons slowly brought his cane up. “Burn in hell.”

The shot rang out, loud in the small room. Glass shattered behind Parsons and he stood swaying for a moment, staring at Saunders and the small gun in his hand. Saunders had swept the gun up from the small table where his glass still sat filled with whiskey. The cane dropped first, and then Parsons fell to his knees.

Saunders walked up to Parsons and pressed the muzzle of the gun between his eyes. “You lose,” he said and pulled the trigger.

Flame stayed very still as Saunders turned the gun on her.

He shrugged. “Sorry, honey. And I really wanted to play, but I’m afraid I don’t have time.” He raised the gun, ringer tightening on the trigger.

Simultaneously, a hole blossomed in the middle of his forehead, one in his heart, one in his throat and one through his mouth. Flame could barely separate the four shots they were so close together. She rubbed the metal spike with the napkin sitting on the table beside Saunders’s drink before using it to open the door.

“No, this time, you lose,” she said and shut the door.

There wasn’t a single guard in sight. She caught the glimpse of a body lying prone on the lawn and another in the flower garden. She walked to the edge of the high fence and jumped, landing in a crouch, waiting there in the shadows.

The car pulled up, passenger door open and she slid in and leaned across the seat to kiss Raoul full on the mouth.

“Great timing. Thank you.”

“I’ve got my uses.”

CHAPTER 18

The shower was hot and helped take some of the sting out of the bruises marring her body. Flame leaned against the shower stall and let the water pour over her. She’d never felt so exhausted in her life. She concentrated on the feeling she had when she witnessed Joy’s reunion with her parents. It had been an uplifting, yet incredibly sad moment. For some reason, she had shifted her attention from Joy and her weeping parents to Wyatt. He looked broken. Utterly broken. So much so that she had wanted to cry for him.

She never, ever wanted to see that same expression on Raoul’s face. She put her head back and closed her eyes, allowing the water to cascade over her. Even if she stayed with him, when she died, it was going to tear him up. What was she supposed to do? She’d actually tried to talk to his grandmother about it, but before she could confess the truth, they’d been interrupted. She had no one to discuss things with and more than anything, she didn’t want to see Raoul hurt.

“Hey! Are you planning on living in there?” A loud thump on the door made her heart jump. She swept back her hair and turned off the water.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to use up all the hot water.” She caught up a towel and wrapped it around her.

“I don’ care about the hot water, cher.” He poked his head in the door. “I just needed to know you were safe.” His sharp gaze roamed over her bare skin.

Her heart sank when he frowned. She knew she looked bad. There was no way to hide the bruises from him. They were everywhere, large black and blue patches that looked hideous. She ducked her head. “It looks worse than it really is.”

Gator stepped into the room and skimmed his fingertips over the outline of the dark bruise riding the swell of her breast. His touch was light, barely there, but her womb clenched and her stomach muscles contracted in response.

“Does it hurt?”

His gaze roamed her face, his eyes dark with emotion. She stroked the hard edge of his jaw. “I’m all right. Raoul. You can’t look at me like that.”

He caught her hand, pressed her palm against his mouth. “I don’ know if my heart can take you getting hurt anymore, Flame.”

No one had ever looked at her like that and she didn’t know if her heart could take it. Her chest actually ached. “Im not hurt,” she tried to reassure him. “Even my arm s feeling better.” She managed a smile. “I’m a tough chick.”

“You’re something.” He drew her out of the bathroom.

The house smelled of the fresh baked bread, fried chicken, and pecan pie his grandmother had sent home with them. He hadn’t bothered with the lights, but had scattered candles all over so that the room seemed to glow. The small rustic cabin suddenly seemed more than a trapper’s cabin. It was intimate and comfortable and all too homey.

She rubbed her temples, pressing deep with her fingers. He was killing her, offering her things already out of her reach. She wanted to weep for both of them, but instead she let him seat her in the chair across from his. If she was what he really wanted, knowing she didn’t have very long, she was going to accept the gift given to her and hang on tight to him with both hands.

“You’re so lucky to have your grandmother, Raoul. She’s incredible.” She picked up her fork as he dished the food onto her plate. “She was so sweet to send a care package with us.”

“When she’s nervous, or upset, Grand-mere cooks. When I was a boy I used to smell the food long before I ever reached our cabin. We always had plenty of food.” He gestured toward all the candles. “I told her I wanted soft lights and a relaxing, soothing atmosphere for you and she gathered every candle she’d made with the right scent.”

“For me?” Flame looked around her, awed by the trouble he’d gone to. “You did all this for me?”

He grinned at her. “Well, you didn’t think I normally lit candles all over the house, did you? I only do it for you.