gazebo housing a hot tub. Saunders went for the intimidation factor in his men, wanting them pumped-up in order to bully people with appearance alone. She could hear the murmur of conversation as they discussed a club in the French Quarter both were particularly fond of.
She moved past them easily, creeping along the hedge until she found the small rock, which she had painted white to make it easy to spot in the dark. Pocketing it, she looked left and right, listened for a minute, and leapt over the fence, landing blind on the other side. She’d dropped the rock hours earlier to mark the only place along the back fence she could go over and land in a clear spot inside the thick foliage surrounding the brick wall. She remained crouched, her heart beginning to accelerate again. Whitney’s man would know she was up to something. She would never stay inside the estate grounds so long. He was probably stalking her.
She sent every psychic and natural sense she had out to the night, searching for information, listening for the sound of footsteps, the whisper of clothing sliding through vegetation. Even the sudden silence of insects would tip her off to the other’s location, but she heard only the regular sounds of the night.
Flame didn’t wait for the alarm to be raised behind her. Staying low in the shadows along the brick wall she moved quickly, keeping to the foliage as much as possible, all the while scanning the area for sound or movement. She shushed several guard dogs as she passed more houses. When she was three blocks from the Saunders’s estate, she halted. She had to cross the street to get to the t where she’d left her motorcycle and the lamps were stilling light brightly across the paved road.
She waited there in the darkness. The feeling that she wasn’t alone crept in. The weight of the four briefcases was heavy on her shoulder, but she could use it as a weapon if necessary-if she got that close.
Soft male laughter reached her from deep within the trees of the park. “You may as well come on over,
CHAPTER 3
The low Cajun drawl was as smooth as molasses and set Flame’s heart pounding. Could he see her? Or, like her, did he just sense her presence?
“You’ve been a very bad girl tonight. I don’ know what was so important to you,
She remained stubbornly silent, trying to get a fix on his voice. Was he throwing it? Projecting it from a false direction in order to trick her? She was fast, incredibly fast. She could streak across the lighted street and make a run for her bike, but he’d know exactly where she was. Damn Whitney and his experiments. She had no choice but to work her way down several more blocks. She cou1d feel the minutes ticking by. Saunders wouldn’t stay too long out of his ivory tower and the theft would be discovered.
When she had gone several blocks down and around the corner from her motorcycle, Flame burst out from the foliage, sprinted across the lighted street, and up three blocks until she gained the relative safety of the park. She slowed immediately, not wanting to give away her exact location by stepping on crisp leaves or dried twigs. She crouched low in the shadows and controlled her breathing. Sounds carried at night, even harsh breathing and more than once she’d slid past guards, knowing exactly where they were only by their ragged breath coming in short gasps after exertion. Flame used her psychic ability to keep any sound she might make from traveling.
She stayed low, moving with slow caution, taking care not to allow movement to draw the eye as she worked her way across the park. Nearing her motorcycle, she was dismayed to see a man sitting on it, casually swinging one leg back and forth while he waited. He didn’t have a gun in his hands; in fact, when she looked closer she noticed he’d been busy trying to steal her bike. There was a small piece of metal attached to her ignition.
Her motorcycle was her baby, one of the few items she bought wholly for herself and she’d made certain it wouldn’t be all that easy to steal, locking up the ignition and housing for the wires with a secondary lock needing a password. He’d evidently managed to either bypass the lock or found her password.
Anger swept through her and she stepped forward. “Get the hell off my bike.”
He whistled softly. “Woman, you have a foul temper.”
The way he drawled out “woman” did something funny to the pit of her stomach. His dark hair curled every which way and his generous mouth curved with amusement. His shoulders were broad and she could see the strength in his arms and upper chest. The man was built and he looked like he’d be good in a fight-or in bed. The unbidden thought pushed her temper up a notch.
“Get. Off. My. Bike.”
“And you’re stubborn too. I like that in a woman. Never have gone for the submissive type.” He winked at her. “I like a tigress in my bed.”
“Oh shut up.” This wasn’t going anything like she’d thought it would and he was throwing her off-kilter with obvious flirtation. “I certainly don’t care about your sexual preferences. Who are you anyway?”
He put a hand over his heart. “You wound me,
Flame put one hand on her hip and studied his face. It as a strong face with a very intriguing mouth that laughed often-if one could believe it, which she didn’t. She believed in the eyes, and his eyes didn’t laugh at all. They were focused and hard and moved ceaselessly, taking in every detail about her and the surrounding area.
Who are you?”
My friends call me Gator.”
Her eyebrow shot up. “I’ll just bet they do. I’ll just bet you got that name from wrestling alligators when you were a kid like every other boy in the bayou.”
“Ouch. That one struck home. Don’ be like that,
“You’re not my family. And you’re wasting your charm on me. Get off my bike.” She took an aggressive step forward, hoping he would meet her advance with one of his own.
He grinned at her, just sitting there, swinging his leg as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “So you noticed right away how truly charmin’ I am.”
“I noticed you have an ego the size of Texas. And you’re still sitting on my bike.” She lowered her pack to the lawn. He was a solid man, heavy muscle, but she had the feeling he’d be fast-maybe even as fast as she was.
“I’m comfortable, thank you.”
“You’re not going to be comfortable in another minute. What is that thing on my motorcycle?” She indicated the small piece of metal attached to the ignition.
“You stole whatever you’ve got in that bag of yours. Maybe we have something in common. I like vehicles.”
She shifted position slightly, giving less targets, making herself more mobile. “You’re such a liar. Whitney sent you after me, didn’t he?”
Raoul shook his head. “Not he,
Her eyes flashed fire. “For all your nonsense, I didn’t take you for a complete fool, but if you believe Dr. Whitney is dead, you deserve anything that happens to you.”
She moved again, a slight, nearly imperceptible gliding of her feet. Without warning, she launched herself, leaping into the air, shooting both feet at his broad chest. She went at him in an angle, determined to knock him off the bike, but at the last possible second, he deflected the double kick, driving her legs away from him with a powerful block of his forearm that sent her tumbling to the ground.
Flame leapt to her feet, landing in a fighter’s crouch, fists up and ready.
Raoul smirked at her. “You don’ play well with others, do you,
“I don’t play at all, especially with Whitney’s little puppets.”
The lazy swinging of the foot halted abruptly and the smile faded. “Now you done gone and insulted me,
She circled the bike, studying him from every angle. He could call her his fiery little one all he wanted, but he was the one about to be burned. He was far too sure of himself and, as most of her opponents did, he
