Leopard's Prey (33 page)

“That might be a good idea,” Remy said. He knew it wasn’t, not with all the suspects there, and all the work he had to do, but he wanted to see her. It was definitely want, not need. He’d never admit to needing to see her. His leopard was all growly because he was worried, that was all. “Have Mahieu drive you. He’s got a brain and isn’t crazy in a car.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Bijou said.

There was relief in her voice. Was she glad to get away from Robert and Dion, or did she want to see him?

“Just wait for me in my office. I’ll come out when I’m able.”

“Sounds good to me. I’ve gotten a couple of text messages from my manager. He wants to meet with me and discuss some business. I’ve been puttin’ him off for a couple of weeks now and I’ve got to do it.”

“Not yet, no way.” He nearly snapped it. As it was it came out as an order.

There was a small silence. “Remy, if you know somethin’ about my manager, and you must to have a reaction like that, please tell me.”

He cursed again under his breath. This time, blistering, hot Cajun French, directed at himself. “Listen,
chere
, I’m still investigatin’ him, but I’ve discovered a few things that worry me. I was waitin’ until I had all the information before I said anythin’ to you one way or the other.” He paused. “The thing is, Bijou, I know you care about Rob Butterfield. I didn’t want you hurt again.”

“I sort of grew up around him. He’s the nephew of Bodrie’s manager. I’ve known him most of my life.”

For some reason, that piece of information just irritated him more – that and the dejected note in her voice. Everyone who had anything at all to do with her father was out for themselves and using Bijou as a means to pad their bank accounts. Were they all so used to easy money that they’d put out a hit on her to get insurance money? Or arrange an accident? With a serial killer in town, what better way to get rid of her?

Maybe he was paranoid – his chosen job certainly made him think everyone was a potential killer – but he didn’t trust a single friend she had. With a killer on the loose, he didn’t want to let her out of his sight.

“I’m glad you’re comin’ down, Blue. I’ll get the information on your manager as fast as I can. I know you must feel like everyone you’ve ever known has betrayed you.”

There was a silence. “I have trust issues for a reason, Remy.”

He heard her. Heard what she was trying to tell him. The thing was, he’d known it all along, he just thought he’d be exempt.

“I know you do,
chere
. We’ll work around them.”

14

Bijou had no idea what to do about her strange relationship with Remy. She didn’t like the fact that she felt excited and happy at the prospect of seeing him. She wanted to remain aloof. Who wanted a man who only wanted her because his leopard did? She felt a little like she was in a fantasy film or a sci-fi movie. Leopard woman? She stared down at her hands. They looked so perfectly normal.

“Are you all right?” Mahieu asked. “You’re awfully quiet.” He glanced over at her as they made their way toward town.

Bijou nodded. “Yes, I’m just thinkin’ about things. I thought I’d come back home and find peace here.”

“The swamps and bayous are peaceful,” Mahieu assured. “Especially for our kind. You’re not alone, Bijou. You have us now. And the lair. Drake will introduce you to everyone in a formal ceremony and you’ll find you’re part of a much larger and tight-knit community.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I met Robert and Dion Lanoux today.”

“I won’t say our lair doesn’t have big problems. Until Drake came along, we were cut off from other lairs and had no idea of their existence. We didn’t even know much about our history or the rules of our society and Drake taught us. We’re comin’ together, though.

“Remy will catch this killer. He’s very good at his job. I know things are a bit difficult right now, but hang in there. The public will get used to your singing in your club and eventually you won’t get so hounded. Everyone will protect you.”

She gave him a faint smile. “I’m Bodrie Breaux’s daughter. I made a career singin’ rock and roll, just like him. Now I’ve turned my back on that and I sing what I’ve always wanted. I don’ do tours and I’ve let the world down, not followin’ my daddy’s legacy. You should see the hate mail. Most people come into that club because they want to see a piece of Bodrie.”

Mahieu whistled softly. “You really don’ know how good you are, do you?”

Bijou shrugged and sent him a small smile. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me in a long time.” She twisted her fingers together in her lap. “I spent so much time tryin’ to be what I thought everyone wanted me to be instead of bein’ myself. I was a rocker, like Bodrie, and everyone accepted me that way. I made a lot of money, but the life wasn’t anythin’ like what I wanted – or even needed.”

“It takes courage to turn your back on success,” Mahieu observed.

A small grin escaped. “I was terrified. Everyone was angry with me and told me it was a terrible mistake. I knew I couldn’t live that life. I just couldn’t do it. The drugs and drinkin’ reminded me too much of the way I grew up.”

She stared out the window as they drove along the bayou. She loved being close to the bayou, the bay, the swamp, all of it. She loved the French Quarter and New Orleans. She felt as if finally, she could carve out a place for herself, not Bodrie’s daughter, but Bijou Breaux. She wanted to live a quiet life, own her club and sing when she wanted.

She glanced at Mahieu. “I’m actually quite good at finding young, up-and-coming jazz and blues singers and bands. I know some great chefs and bartenders. I think I can make a success of the club. I love the idea of livin’ in the apartment above the club. It has great views and really nice balconies.”

Mahieu smiled. “Your leopard won’ like it much. She’ll need to run in the swamp. Remy keeps a house there, so no worries.”

“Does everyone expect me to live with Remy? Because I don’ see that happenin’.”

Mahieu’s brief smile turned into a grin. “You don’? Well now. That’s downright interestin’. Have you mentioned that to Remy yet?”

“I didn’t think I had to.”

There was laughter in Mahieu’s eyes. “Please tell him when I’m around. Even if you do it when I’m across the room. The fireworks will be a thing of beauty.”

“You and your brothers seem to be misguided about Remy’s feelin’s toward me,” Bijou informed him, using her haughtiest voice and sticking out her chin.

Mahieu didn’t seem to be the least bit affected by her tone. His grin didn’t diminish in the least. She was beginning to believe the Boudreaux brothers lived to tease one another. She couldn’t help herself, she wanted to laugh. Mahieu was enjoying himself far too much at her expense.

“I don’ think you have a clue what you’re talkin’ about, Miss Breaux, but that’s perfectly all right. We do love the way you’ve got our big brother dancin’ like a marionette on a string. Please keep it up.”

She gave a little sniff. His laughter was infectious and she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. “I have no idea what you’re talkin’ about. Remy doesn’t dance to anyone’s beat but his own. You know that.”

“We all
thought
that,” Mahieu said. “But times have changed. And her name is Bijou Breaux.”

Bijou tried not to feel elated. Mahieu was giving her hope where Remy hadn’t given her any. She was not going to be wanted for her leopard. She’d come home to New Orleans to live her life her way. She wanted to be loved for herself. Not for being Bodrie’s daughter. Not for her money. Certainly not for her leopard. Maybe what she was asking was impossible, but she’d rather not be with anyone at all than to be with someone for the wrong reasons. Remy wanted her for all the wrong reasons, but his family didn’t seem to understand that.

She shook her head. Drake appeared to be madly in love with Saria, and she knew without a shadow of a doubt that Saria loved Drake. They weren’t together because of their leopards.

She stayed silent until they pulled up to the curb and Mahieu parked. She sat for a moment, trying to calm her suddenly rapidly beating heart. She detested that she was so excited at the prospect of seeing Remy. She could admit to herself that he was the man she dreamt of, the one she considered a hero, the man no other man could measure up to, but she absolutely refused to believe she might be falling in love with him. Not now. Not when she knew there was nothing between them but leopards and sex. Everyone had choices. Her choice was not to be in love with a man who didn’t love her.

Mahieu came around and opened the door for her. “I texted Remy to let him know you’re here. He’s in interrogation, but he’ll come out as soon as he’s done.” He walked with her up to the door of the station house and reached to open that door for her.

“I’ll be fine. You don’ have to wait with me,” Bijou assured.

Mahieu gave her his cocky grin. “Not a chance, Bijou. Remy doesn’t want you goin’ anywhere without an escort right now. He’s gotten all paranoid between the murders, you getttin’ harassed last night at the club and Robert actin’ like an idiot. You’re goin’ to have to be a little patient with Remy until he figures things out. He’s got a protective streak a mile wide when it comes to you.”

“I’d love to feel very special, Mahieu, but the truth is, Remy feels protective over everyone. That’s why he’s a cop.”

She went inside and stepped back to allow him to lead the way. The truth was, everyone was going to stare at her, and she didn’t mind Mahieu running interference. He was a big man, much like his brother, all muscle with that smooth, fluid way of walking. He exuded confidence, just like all the Boudreaux brothers and Saria. She wanted to be like that and was determined that she would be, given a few months. For too long she’d tried to be someone she wasn’t and in the end she just couldn’t sustain it.

Following Mahieu through the bull pen, she rounded a corner to find the homicide division. Remy’s office was in the corner, with several desks out on the floor. Mahieu waved her to a chair, but there were several policemen looking at her, staring, some sporting grins. She didn’t feel like sitting there on display for them all. Mahieu went over to talk with someone he knew, and she wandered around the room, trying to get a feel for Remy’s work.

Set up in the middle of the largest wall was a huge whiteboard with pictures of Pete Morgan and the altar. Alongside that were pictures of Ryan Cooper and the altar. The pictures were in horrible, gruesome detail, and although it was one of those situations where one could almost not stop looking at the train wreck, she managed to shift her gaze.

In a line down either side of the grisly murder pictures were photographs of men. Her manager, Rob Butterfield, and his friend Jason Durang were among them. Bob Carson was up on the wall as well. She recognized a few other faces from the men who had been in her club and had harassed her. She couldn’t imagine why any of them had been singled out and would be considered suspects.

Above the pictures, a map caught her eye. It was of both the United States and Europe. There were red pins in various cities. She moved closer and studied the map. It took a moment or two for the significance to sink in. She stood there, staring, biting her lip, suddenly very much afraid.

“Come away from there,” Remy said.

She whirled around to face him, one hand going defensively to her throat. She felt the color drain out of her face. “What is this, Remy?”

“Don’ be lookin’ at that, Blue,” he cautioned. “Come into my office. You shouldn’t see that. There’s no reason.” He took her hand and tugged.

“No, I need to know. What is this?”

He sighed, his fingers stroking the back of her hand in a caress. “It’s a murder board. It helps me keep all the facts straight. Putting everything up, I can work the pieces like a puzzle until eventually it all comes together.”

“You have Rob Butterfield up there. You even have Bob.”

“I’m not calling them suspects, but they are persons of interest. All of them were here four years ago when the first series of murders happened here in New Orleans. All of these men were. I have to rule people out and so far, I haven’t quite gotten there with them, but I’m certain I will. Among others, I’m talkin’ with them now. Of course not together. I like to keep my persons of interest separated so they can’t come up with the same story.”

“Why would they even be suspects?” She wasn’t buying his “persons of interest” story for a moment.

“They were in the wrong place at the wrong time with no real alibi.” He gave a careful, casual shrug. “Come away from here now.”

Bijou resisted the tug on her hand. “Why are all those cities flagged with red pins?”

Remy went very still, her actions suddenly really catching his attention. “Do you really want to know?”

“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t,” she replied. Her heart pounded hard. Her mouth went dry. She felt the rise of her leopard coming close to the surface as if offering to take her place.

“These are his kills over the last four years. The first that we found with the same pattern was in New York City.”

Bijou closed her eyes briefly. “And the days, months and year written above each pin are
when
he killed?”

Remy nodded grimly. “Four kills in each city. Even in Europe, but we know of only three sites there.”

She
had
to tell him. She felt sick to her stomach. “I need to sit down, Remy. Maybe a glass of water?”

Remy regarded her carefully, his piercing eyes sharp with intelligence. She knew she’d gone pale and that her skin had suddenly become clammy. There was no way to hide it from him since he was holding her hand. His thumb slid innocently over her pulse. He was well aware something was radically wrong. She wasn’t a wilting flower. Her distress had nothing to do with the detailed pictures of the two men she knew who had been brutally murdered.

He didn’t question her further, simply led her into his office, put her into a chair and went to get her a glass of water. She leaned her head into her hand. Nothing made sense anymore.

Remy returned and carefully closed the door. “Drink this,
chere
, and then tell me what’s wrong.”