Leopard's Prey (8 page)

Remy was well aware of the deep breath Bijou took as she turned her head toward the girls, a welcoming smile curving her soft lips.

“Can we have your autograph?” one asked while the other looked as if she might faint.

“Of course,” Bijou answered readily. She took the proffered pen and tablet. “What’s your name? Do you live here in New Orleans?”

“I’m Nancy, Nancy Smart, and this is my cousin, Alexandria. We both live here,” Nancy volunteered. “We went to your concert in Lafayette. It was so much fun.”

“That was fun for me too,” Bijou said as she wrote on the tablet. “The Lafayette concert was like comin’ home and bein’ with people I know after travelin’ so much.”

“I heard you bought a place here. Are you goin’ to be singin’?” Nancy ventured as she took the tablets and hugged them to her. “Can underage get in?”

“That’s a good question. I should think about how we can do a few special nights for everyone,” Bijou said. “Thanks for mentionin’ that.”

Nancy beamed. “I hope you do.”

The two girls nearly tripped over one another, giggling as they hurried back to their booth. Bijou twisted her fingers together and sent him a small smile. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’ apologize. That comes with the territory.”

“I hope I can still keep the younger crowd listening to me,” she said. “The kind of music I love isn’t always the most popular with them.”

Her voice when speaking was amazing. The blend of smoke and sultry heat slipped under his skin and stroked like caressing fingers.

“Did you bring the threats against you?”

She nodded and drew a packet out of her tote bag. The stack of letters was at least an inch and a half thick and was in a plastic bag. “These are the ones I’m mostly concerned about. There’s a lot more, but these are the worst. My manager told me to keep them inside somethin’ to keep fingerprints off of them.” She pushed the packet across the table with one finger. “They’re all yours. I hope you have fun readin’ them. You’ll need a really good sense of humor.”

Her fingers fiddled with the water glass, idly turning it in circles.

“Bijou.” Remy used his lowest, most commanding voice. “Look at me.”

Her lashes lifted and the impact of those vivid cornflower blue eyes hit him hard. “Has someone or something scared you?” She didn’t respond, but he saw the answer in her eyes. “You can tell me. Just say it.”

Her hand went defensively to her throat, to the thin silver chain that dipped into the neckline of the shirt she wore, almost as if that chain was a talisman. “It’s silly really. I’m becomin’ a little paranoid. I thought if I stayed with a friend – with Saria – I could sort things out. She’s very grounded.”

He resisted the urge to snort his opinion of that. The truth was, for all her wild ways, Saria was grounded and she made a loyal friend.

“I used to get a few threats before Bodrie’s death, nothin’ really scary, just that I didn’ know what a good daughter should be like to her daddy and I was goin’ to learn a few hard lessons.” She nodded toward the packet. “I could recognize his patterns. He’s been writing me a very long time. When I started singin’ on my own, a new theme started. I had no talent. I shouldn’t be tryin’ to capitalize on my daddy’s good name and if I didn’ stop, I was goin’ to find myself in a dangerous position.”

She closed her mouth abruptly, pressing her lips together tightly as Remy swung his head toward two more people approaching. This time it was a couple. They looked to be in their sixties.

“Ma’am. Miss Breaux?” The man held out a napkin. “Would you mind autographin’ this for us? Mr. and Mrs. Chambridge.”

The woman smiled hesitantly. “We try to go to all your concerts.”

“We’ve got all your music,” Mr. Chambridge added.

“Of course,” Bijou said, “I’d be more than happy to give you an autograph. I can’t believe you’re so kind as to come to my concerts and support me.”

As if she’d thrown open the gates to a fancy mansion and invited everyone in, the others in the café quickly rose and pressed close, thrusting paper, shirts, napkins and even a backpack at Bijou to sign. She didn’t hesitate, but was gracious and sweet to every single person jarring the table and crowding around them. The temperature went up fast. Remy found himself wanting to shove everyone back away from her, especially those that touched her arms and shoulders, or “accidentally” brushed her hair.

It was as if the floodgates had opened, and there was no going back. Remy began to feel uneasy. His leopard snarled and raked at him, so close his skin itched and he could feel fur rippling beneath the surface. The closer the crowd pushed on Bijou, the edgier he became. Anyone wishing her harm could easily slip up behind her and plunge a knife into her back or shoot her.

His jaw ached and he rubbed it, trying to soothe the tense muscles developing so quickly. Bijou continued to sign autographs and talk briefly with each person, and just as she predicted, individuals became bolder, asking for pictures with her. Bijou posed with that same soft smile on her face. Over and over.

More people poured into the café, brought, no doubt, by the text messages of friends. Two men pushed their way through the crowd. Thereze protested as she tried to get through the mass of people to deliver the food. The men pushing at Bijou were obnoxious, pressing for her phone number, where she was staying, and when she simply smiled and shook her head, one swore and called her
bitch
.

Remy stood up so fast he knew his cat was closer to the surface than he’d even imagined. His reflexes were lightning. He caught the man by the back of his neck and slammed him down on the table, holding him there.

“I’m done with this. Everyone go back to your tables. And you can apologize for your mouth,” he added to his prisoner. His voice was deceptively low. His eyes definitely glowed cat – he was seeing with a cat’s vision. His aggression was doubly so. He knew his strength reflected his leopard’s closeness.

The man muttered an apology as the crowd hastily dispersed. Remy let him up but retained possession of his arm. “I know you. Ryan Cooper. You came down here a couple years ago and you work at the strip bar. I know where you live. If you give Miss Breaux any trouble, any at all, you’ll be gettin’ a visit from me and it won’t be pleasant. Have I made myself understood?”

“Yes,” Cooper said, and glanced at his friend. Remy recognized the man as Brent Underwood. He only knew Underwood because the man hung out with one of the shifters, Robert Lanoux. Underwood quickly looked away.

Remy let go of Cooper abruptly. Cooper staggered back a couple of steps and turned, nearly sprinting from the café. Remy watched him go, following his progress out on the street, ready for anything. Cooper was a mean bouncer. He provided drugs for the patrons and sometimes allowed underage boys into the bar, getting them hooked early on the after-hours sex and drugs. Remy made a mental note to talk with Robert about Cooper and Underwood.

Thereze set the food on the table.

“I’m so sorry,” Bijou said. “Sometimes it happens and disrupts everythin’.”

“I suggest exitin’ through the kitchen when you’re ready to leave,” the waitress said. “Those people are crazy.”

Remy sank down into his seat, grateful he could keep a straight face. Thereze had been the first person asking for both an autograph and picture.

“If you were my official bodyguard, Remy, I’d be sued every ten minutes or so,” Bijou said, and then flashed a genuine smile, one that lit her eyes. “Just sayin’.”

“He had it comin’,” Remy all but snarled. “He can keep his opinions to himself.”

“The problem is this, my friend” – Bijou leaned across the table and put her hand over his – “people were probably recordin’ your every move, just because you were with me. You’re a policeman. You can’t do people that way. You’ll be very lucky if you don’ end up on YouTube.”

“Tell me again your harebrained reasoning for not havin’ a bodyguard.” His leopard wasn’t settling fast enough. He had the urge to throw her over his shoulder and carry her out of the café. What would happen after that he didn’t dare admit, even to himself.

“You haven’t changed much,” Bijou said, and pushed the food on her plate around.

“Don’ kid yourself, Blue.” He pinned her with his eyes. Leopard’s eyes, staring straight and completely focused on prey. “I’ve changed. If I took you home to your daddy, I’d beat the shit out of him and have him thrown in jail for child endangerment. I’d call the feds and have them clean up the department like I should have done all those years ago. So don’ you for one minute believe I’m that same idiot that let you down. It was the act of a coward to leave you with him.”

Her lips, so full and tempting, frowned. “Is that what you think, Remy? That you were a coward? First, you didn’t leave me with him, you took me to Pauline that night. You saved my life. That’s what you did. You saved me. Never for one minute believe that I’d be here without you, because I wouldn’t.”

She didn’t flinch when he bunched her shirt in his fist, fury rising all over again at the thought that a child would want to take her own life.

“I wouldn’t be here without you, Remy,” she repeated, honesty in her voice.

“Damn it to hell, Blue, you’re goin’ to get us into trouble if you keep this up. Why the hell aren’t you afraid of me? You don’ have good sense.”

“Who says I’m not afraid of you? You’re a very scary man. Even I can see that. Eat. You skipped breakfast.”

He forced himself to loosen his grip on her. What was he going to do? Yank her across the table, lay her out and devour her? It might be what he wanted, but he had learned control. He just needed a break from that faint temptation of lavender.

“I am hungry,” he admitted, meaning it. Not caring if she read his true meaning.

Evidently she had no problems translating. Color tinged her flawless skin. “Just eat, Remy. Everyone is starin’ at us.”

He sighed and took a bite. The food was spicy and every bit as good as he remembered. Emile was an extraordinary chef. “His dinners are even better. You can’t make a reservation here, and people wait for hours for one of his meals.”

“The food is outstandin’,” Bijou agreed. She sent him a little grin. “I have to admit, I love to eat good food.”

“That’s one of the hazards of bein’ from New Orleans. We love great food, music and fun.”

“Which means I have to work out daily,” Bijou said, “but if I can eat this kind of food, it’s well worth it.”

Remy’s gaze dropped to the package of threats. “You were tellin’ me why you suddenly, after all this time, became uneasy with these threats.”

Bijou made a face at him over her fork. “You’re like a pit bull.”

He nodded his head solemnly. “Proud of it too.”

“Bodrie owned several properties beside the mansion and I inherited those along with the copyrights to his music, his record label and everything else. One of the properties was a camp he liked to go to party.” She lifted her lashes and there was faint humor in her eyes. “Because, you know, he didn’t party enough at any of the hotels, his home or anywhere else.”

“Poor man. I can’t imagine Bodrie Breaux stayin’ for very long at a camp, even if he has every luxury. One swarm of mosquitoes and he’d be out of there.”

“So true. That was his number one complaint. But he liked to play up his Cajun heritage. He almost always took a camera crew out with him, to document his need to go back to his roots.” She ate another forkful of food, chewing thoughtfully while she looked at Remy. “I went to the camp a few days ago and there was a huge eye painted on the walls inside. The first few times I came across that eye, I thought it was a childish prank. Like, ‘I’m watchin’ you,’ but each of the properties had the eye painted on a wall, includin’ the mansion. I haven’t gone there, but the caretakers said someone broke in and ruined the wall in the entryway.”

“And?” Remy prompted when she fell silent.

“At the cabin, someone left a dead animal, killed inside the house, right by the eye. It was all very dramatic with
‘You’re next’
written in the animal’s blood. I took photographs just in case it was a real threat and not some idiot trying to make the tabloids.”

He swore under his breath. “Bijou, what the hell were you thinkin’ waitin’ so long to come to me about this?”

“I didn’t want to be rescued again,” she admitted reluctantly. “I hate that you saw me like that, in need of rescue.”

He resisted the urge to swear again. She did bring out his protective instincts, there was no denying that, but damn it all, she’d been eight years old. “Tell me the rest.”

She blew out her breath as she glared at him. Remy couldn’t help laughing. “Now that’s the girl I remember. No one can duplicate that exact look. I’m sorry I’m annoying you, Blue…”

“You certainly don’ sound like it,” she contradicted, putting down her fork to study his face.

Her hand went to the fine silver chain she wore, fingers curling around it. She twisted the links absently, drawing the pendant up out of the neckline of her shirt, giving him a glimpse now and then of the artsy piece. It looked expensive – and it looked like a piece of jewelry a man very interested in her would give as a gift.

“You could be right. Just tell me everythin’ right now because I’m goin’ to get it out of you eventually.” He reached across the table, unable to stop himself – another loss of control
she
caused – and pulled the silver chain until the pendant was completely exposed.

The piece was round, three-dimensional and beautiful. He recognized the work of Arnaud Lefevre, a renowned sculptor who made rare jewelry pieces as well. His work went for tens of thousands for the jewelry and hundreds of thousands for his sculptures. One of the most prestigious galleries in New Orleans carried his work. Occasionally, Arnaud visited the various galleries around the world displaying his art and it was always a huge gala event.

“Where’d you get this piece?”

“Arnaud gave it to me,” Bijou said. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

“You two goin’ out?” He asked the question casually, but he wasn’t feeling casual.

She frowned at him and carefully put down her fork. “I thought we were talkin’ about the threats to me.”