"No problem," Gage agreed. "Consider it done."
"We'll stay away from the brothers for now," Remy decided. "They probably are crowin' about fooling me in interrogation. Once again, they figure they outsmarted the cops. I want them feelin' all happy, warm and fuzzy. We don' want them runnin'."
"And if they head out to the swamp while you're out there?" Gage asked.
"They'll run into leopards and it won't be pretty," Remy said, his tone unforgiving.
Bijou dropped her arms to her sides and stepped away from him. He turned to face her. She looked stricken and maybe a little sick. "These men sound dangerous, Remy," she whispered.
He reached for her hand and tugged her to him, sliding her under his shoulder and walking her out of the room--away from Robert and the stench of madness. She didn't need to see the corrupt side of leopards, not when she was first learning about her heritage. Like anything, there was both good and bad.
He didn't want to talk to her in front of Robert, or anyone else for that matter. She was intensely private and she wouldn't want him comforting her in front of the others. He took her through to the kitchen and as soon as the door closed behind them, he swung her around and tipped her chin up so he could see her eyes.
"I'm sorry about all this."
For a moment she was silent, pressing her lips together. Finally she nodded. "I never really thought about the kinds of things you have to see when you go to work. Or the kinds of people you have to associate with."
He wrapped his hand around the nape of her neck, a little shocked that her distress was more for him than for herself. "I don' think it's much different from the people you had to associate with as a child, Bijou."
"They were self-indulgent and permissive, but they didn't think it was okay to hurt and rape women and no one murdered anyone," she protested. "I might have been neglected and embarrassed by the behavior, but I never had to deal with the grisly, horrific things you see."
"I'm sorry," he said again. He caressed her cheek with the pad of his thumb. "Blue, I know we have so much to talk about and I keep askin' you to wait for me, but I need you to understand. I can't have these men runnin' loose. Even if they aren't the ones who killed Pete Morgan and Ryan Cooper, they're dangerous and I need to get them off the street."
"Of course. There's no question of that," Bijou said, frowning at him.
"The point is, I'll be workin' all night and maybe most of tomorrow."
"I figured that out for myself. Remy, I'm not a baby, and I certainly am not someone who has to be with a man every moment. I know what you do. I didn't have any idea how awful it was for you, but I got together with you knowing you're a homicide detective. I'm not about to fall apart because you have to work."
She was hesitant about it, but she cupped the side of his face with her palm. "I can be afraid for you. That's somethin' outside my control, but I'm beginning to realize you're a dangerous man and maybe you can take care of yourself after all." She sent him a faint smile.
He bent his head and kissed her, needing the taste of her. Needing to know she wouldn't pull away. He had never thought he would come to need a woman the way he did Bijou. He often reminded himself she hadn't been back that long, that he barely knew her, but somehow she found her way inside and was stamped onto his bones. He had wanted to tell himself it was his leopard, but he feared his leopard had little to do with it now.
She leaned into him, her mouth moving under his, her slender arms sliding up to circle his neck. His kiss started out gentle but once her lips moved against his and her mouth opened to him, it was as if molten fire poured from him to her. There was no stopping, no thinking, only his woman's body moving against his, her warmth seeping into his pores and the taste of her sinking into his bones.
"Are you goin' to wait for me?" he asked.
"I said I would," she murmured against his lips.
He kissed her again, that whisper of a caress too much to resist. His tongue tangled and danced with hers. "I don' want you gettin' any ideas about that Frenchman," he added. He kissed her over and over.
"Frenchman?" she asked faintly.
He lifted his head, a faint grin on his face. "That's my woman. Forget about that filthy rich, suave, very talented artist. What could he possibly have that I don'?"
"I can't possibly imagine," she said, smiling back at him.
He noticed she didn't offer to stay home from the gallery showing if he couldn't make it back in time or had to work the next night.
16
BIJOU dressed carefully for the gallery showing of Arnaud Lefevre's work. He was always very elegant in his attire, his suits impressive and his manners impeccable. He moved in a far different world than Remy's. She'd lived so long like Arnaud that dressing up was second nature to her. Red carpets, cameras and the right clothing were a way of life.
She liked her blue jeans and casual clothes, but there was something amazing about wiggling into a designer gown, one that covered her back and arms to hide all the evidence of her crazy sexual nights with Remy. She styled her hair in an elegant updo and put on her makeup carefully. Strappy heels and swinging sapphire earrings completed the look, making her feel very feminine.
Remy. She sighed and stared at herself in the mirror. Apparently they'd torn up the swamp looking for evidence, and it had taken them all night and most of the day to complete their search. They found what was left of three bodies--all women--anchored in the water. One was the dancer Robert had spoken of.
Remy sounded tired when she'd spoken to him on the phone. She couldn't imagine what it must do to him to see the horrific things he often had to contend with. His voice had been low, almost so quiet she could barely hear him, but there was sorrow for those women. Sorrow and guilt. They lived where he worked and he hadn't known--hadn't saved them.
The forensic team had gathered human bones and a human skull as well as all sorts of items taken from the homes of the elderly. Remy was certain that prints and blood would match the Rousseau brothers. He hoped the human bones would tie them to Pete Morgan and Ryan Cooper's murders, but he definitely had enough evidence to arrest them for the robberies and beatings. Remy was certain he could get Brent Underwood to testify against them. With Robert's testimony as well, Remy believed he could keep the brothers from getting bail, giving him more time to find evidence against them to connect them to the other murders.
She touched her earring, her fingers caressing the glittering stone. She wanted to see Remy, to hold him close to her and ease his mind just a little. Instead, he was going to work all night and she was going to take her mind off his work by going to Arnaud's showing. Maybe she'd find something special in the gallery for Remy.
"Are you ready, Bijou?" Saria asked, sticking her head through the open doorway.
Bijou smiled at her. "You look beautiful, Saria. I knew that gown would be perfect on you. Does Drake look incredibly handsome?"
Saria nodded. "Yes, he does. When that man decides to dress up he takes my breath away."
Bijou burst out laughing. "That man takes your breath away all the time, and I'm betting even more so when he's not dressed."
Color crept up Saria's cheeks. "Okay, I'll concede that's the truth, but don' tell him. Seriously, he already knows I'm crazy about him." She didn't sound in the least upset about it, in fact, she sounded very happy. "You look so amazin', Bijou," Saria added. "Every time I see you, whether you're in jeans or dressed up in your gowns, I'm always shocked at how truly beautiful you are."
"Thank you, my friend." Bijou gave her a little bow. "You always boost my confidence. Have you gone to one of Arnaud's shows? Lots of press. He's very famous and the critics and very wealthy buyers turn out in droves." She knew she sounded proud of him--she couldn't help it. "He really is a genius when it comes to his work. Some of his sculptures are on display in the Louvre. That is an amazin' achievement."
"Poor Remy," Saria said, a cheeky grin on her face. "He's goin' to take one look at you in that dress hangin' on
that hot Frenchman's arm and he's goin' to go completely ballistic."
"No, he won't," Bijou denied. "I told him I was goin' and he was fine with it. He knows I'm friends with Arnaud."
"Knownin' it and likin' it are two different things," Saria pointed out. "He's very territorial where you're concerned. He always has been. No one could ever say anythin' about you even when you were a teenager or he'd get upset."
Bijou's heart jumped. "Umm, sweetheart. I love you, I really do, but Remy was gone most of the time when we were teens."
"Most of the time, but he visited once in a while and he always asked about you and how you were doin'. Gage and the boys thought you were a little stuck-up and Remy didn't like that."
"Everyone thought I was stuck-up except you," Bijou said.
It was strange how the memories of those days still hurt. She knew she was partially to blame. She hadn't wanted anyone to know just how awful her father and his bandmates and groupies really were. She was embarrassed by his behavior. She didn't dare take a friend or teacher home for fear Bodrie might seduce them--which of course he had on more than one occasion. She was always the one blamed when he'd refuse to see the person again--not Bodrie.
"Remy never thought you were haughty," Saria denied. "He always seemed to be your staunchest supporter."
Bijou tried not to react to Saria's disclosure, but it was nice to know Remy had remembered her even during her teenage years. She'd felt very much alone during that time. Only Saria had ever really been a friend to her. Saria had no desire to meet Bodrie. She understood the concept of growing up on her own. Her brothers were grown and mostly out of the house and her father had stayed drunk most of the time. It seemed natural for the girls to gravitate toward one another.
It had been the first time in her life that Bijou had experienced true friendship. She'd been leery at first, not trusting Saria's motives, but Saria had been so laid back, disappearing for days on end into the swamp. She had never pursued the friendship, never tried to push herself on Bijou. Bijou found herself drawn to the girl who seemed the exact opposite of her. Saria was a wild child, defiant and independent. Bijou always tried to fit in and not be noticed. Saria couldn't care less what others thought of her, while Bijou seemed to be easily hurt by the things her classmates, teachers and the press said.
"You two ladies ready?" Drake asked and then stopped, whistling. "I get to take out the two most beautiful women in New Orleans."
Saria beamed at him. She slipped her hand into the crook of his arm. "You clean up nice, Drake Donovan."
Bijou took his other proffered arm. "I have to agree with Saria. You look amazin', Drake."
He flashed her a smile. He looked very different than the man who yesterday had been pacing and snarling and raking claws over Robert Lanoux's face. No one would ever suspect that Drake was anything but a gentleman. When he looked at Saria, his features softened, his eyes held the light of love and there seemed to be no trace of that dangerous, lethal animal.
Bijou was caught spellbound by that look. She recognized it on Drake's face, in his eyes, his expression, so why hadn't she recognized it on Remy's face? She memorized every bone, his strong jaw, all that luxurious dark hair spilling so carelessly into his amazing green eyes. Sometimes just looking at him made her feel as if she was free-falling off a cliff, and too far gone to save herself.
But that look she was seeing on Drake's face, the intensity when he looked at Saria, was there on Remy's face when he looked at her. For a moment the breath rushed out of her lungs and she just stood there, frozen, unable to move, shocked at the miracle that had been in front of her all along.
"Bijou?" Saria's voice sounded far away. "Are you all right?"
Remy really was in new territory. He didn't have a clue any more than she did--well, that wasn't strictly true. He had a lot of experience, obviously, in areas she didn't, but the emotions were as new to him as they were to her.
"I'm fine," she answered. Her heart felt lighter than it had in years.
"Is Remy going to try to join us tonight?" Drake asked.
There was a hint of laughter in his voice as if he was teasing her. She did her best to look stern. "I doubt it. He's been swamped at work and he hasn't been to bed in over twenty-four hours. If he has any time he'll be sleepin'."
Drake nudged Saria. "Remy is going to be sleeping while Bijou, dressed in that very flattering formfitting gown, is hanging on the arm of another man. Just out of curiosity, do you want to place a little wager on that?"
Bijou laughed. "I'm not about to put money down on guessing what that man may or may not do. He's unpredictable."
Drake escorted the two women down the sweeping staircase and out to the car. "If there's one thing I know about Remy, it's his being predictable when it comes to you, Bijou. Don't ever kid yourself. He's not leaving you alone with another man."
"He knows Arnaud is just a friend."
Drake groaned as he opened the door for her. "Why is it women insist on saying that?"
Bijou slid into the car with great dignity. "Because women have evolved, and they can be friends with men who are not lovers."
Drake snorted his derision as he opened the door for Saria. "We're talking leopards, first of all, and we're very territorial, and secondly, men haven't evolved and they aren't going to."
Saria and Bijou laughed as Drake stalked around the car, looking more leopard than human as he moved with his usual fluid grace. They laughed harder as he slammed the door closed and started the car.
"I hope his temper isn't quite as bad as yours over the subject of men and women being friends," Bijou said.
He glanced at her through the rearview mirror. "Poor woman. You have no idea about that man, do you? You probably are suffering from the illusion that he's sweet."
"He is sweet," Bijou professed.
"Remy has the foulest-tempered leopard of any one of us. And when it comes to you, the way he looks at it is, there are no men who want to be your friends. They're all rivals."
Bijou shook her head. "I think you both blame all of your nonsense on leopards."
Saria burst out laughing again. She nudged her husband. "She has a point there. Remy loves to blame his leopard when he gets all snarly."
Drake shrugged. "Go ahead, you two, but I notice, neither one of you are putting your money against me. Remy's going to show up."
The gallery lights sparkled in the light drizzle, spilling out onto the street along with the music and laughter from inside as they drove up to Arnaud's showing. Bijou was pleased to see the gallery was packed as expected. Arnaud was world-renowned, his sculptures considered some of the greatest in the modern world.
She spotted her manager and the man that had somehow become his shadow in the crowd, as well as a few of the men she'd recognized as bodyguards at her club. She knew they were leopards. Joshua Tregre and Elijah Lospostos, two men she knew Drake or Remy had assigned to watch over her. As if that wasn't enough, she spotted two of Remy's brothers looking elegant in suits, pretending to drink as they mingled with the crowd. There was no pretense about eating, she noted with a small laugh.
Arnaud stood off to the side, a drink in hand, looking more elegant than usual in a black suit and white shirt. He turned as she walked in, lifting his drink in salute, and managing a smile as he came toward them.
He leaned in to brush a kiss against her cheek. "Thank God you've come, Bijou. You know how I despise small talk." He took her hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm. "You've saved me." Once he had her securely anchored to his side, he smiled at Drake and Saria. "Thank you for bringing her. It was becoming a nightmare. I'm not good with people, just my art, and these shows can be excruciating."
Drake nodded, frowning a little as Arnaud set down his drink and put his palm over Bijou's hand. "I can understand. I'm not the best with people either. I like to stay in the background."
Arnaud turned toward him as if for the first time, Drake had caught his interest. "You're married to Bijo
u's friend," he said and held out his hand.
"Drake Donovan," Drake greeted. "My wife, Saria."
"I'm sorry, Arnaud. We've been friends for so long it didn't occur to me that you wouldn't know Drake and Saria," Bijou said. "I think I've completely forgotten my manners."
"You're forgiven as long as you do all the talking tonight and make me look good," Arnaud replied, once again covering his hand with hers. "I hope you both enjoy yourselves. We have to make the rounds."
Arnaud didn't wait for a reply, forgetting all about them as was his way. He walked Bijou over to his latest sculpture, a five-foot waterfall of color and texture that was breathtaking. "What do you think of this piece? They never come out the way I expect. As I'm working they take on a life of their own."
The piece was titled "Giving Back." The critics had given the sculpture rave reviews and several had attributed the piece to "what it feels like to fall in love."
Bijou studied the waterfall from every angle as she knew Arnaud preferred before she answered him. He had actually captured individual drops as well as the feeling of water rushing over a cliff. Looking closely she could see more than the water. Images began to emerge beneath and in the flowing waves of water.
Entranced, she moved closer. The images appeared and disappeared according to the light shining on the sculpture and whichever direction she was looking from. She studied the images, taking her time, knowing Arnaud appreciated a thorough inspection before pronouncing judgment. He stayed very silent as she moved back and forth, trying to capture each aspect.
It seemed an impossible task to find everything he'd molded into the water. Each time she thought she'd found them all, when she moved, something else revealed itself. "This is amazin', Arnaud. Incredible. I don' know how you could even manage to do this. It's one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen. The weird thing is, the more I look at it, the more beautiful it becomes."
"What do you think I'm trying to say?"
This was always the most difficult moment. Arnaud made statements with his sculptures. He didn't mind the critics getting it wrong, but it mattered to him that she saw his vision, because she was one of the few people he allowed into his small circle of friends. She walked around the sculpture one more time.