She smiled at him. She couldn't help it. He talked in that velvety smooth tone and looked at her with those piercing, amazing eyes of his and her stomach did flip-flops. Her heart beat far too fast and her mouth went dry. He just had so much charisma, a magnetic pull she couldn't seem to ever resist. She knew better than to fall for his charm--he'd made it very clear his attraction had little to do with her--but still, she found it hard not to react to him.
"Thanks, Remy. I hope you're right, but if not, I know the club is what I want."
"Good girl. I think the club suits you, but more than that, you need to do what makes you happy."
"I didn't have anything at all to do with those murders, Remy," she said, making certain to look him in the eye. She was in the same city where every one of the murders occurred.
"I know that. I can't imagine you hoisting a grown man up a tree, let alone carvin' him up. I didn't think for one moment you had anything to do with the murders, Bijou," Remy said. "But it's very possible you know the killer."
She wanted to protest, but her gaze strayed through the glass toward the map on the murder board. There was no denying the fact that where every single murder took place, she had been present. "I do have a few extremely devoted fans," she admitted. "They follow me from one concert to the next. Some even followed me out of the country on my world tour. There's a special group that run a fan club and the members are the first ones to be able to buy tickets and backstage passes."
"Can we get a list of their names? Do you know them all by sight?"
"I'd recognize the ones who come backstage on a regular basis, but if they don', and not all of them do, there's no way I'd be able to recognize them. In any case, Remy, I can't remember who was at what concert."
Remy tightened his hands around Bijou's. She was extremely distressed, but holding herself together. He could feel the tension in her. Her hands trembled beneath his. The idea of knowing a serial killer, that he might be traveling to her concerts and killing at every event, sickened her.
"Could I have done somethin' to make this happen? A song? Ignorin' someone? There're so many people and I really try hard to autograph for as many as possible and talk a little with anyone I meet, but I'm exhausted after every concert and maybe I didn't take the time I should have." Bijou delivered the confession in a little rush.
Remy shook his head. "I don' know what the trigger was for this man to begin killin', Blue, or even if he has anythin' to do with goin' to your concerts, but it has nothin' to do with you. I've run into killers before, many times, but no one has ever been this cold. Believe me, chere, this man was born a psychopath."
Bijou shivered. "Why would he be followin' me around?"
"If you were a target, he'd have killed you already," Remy stated bluntly. "He doesn't seem to have any trouble gettin' to his victims. But you've really helped me by givin' me this information, Blue. I'll be able to ask the right questions now."
He sat back in his chair and regarded her steadily. "Does your manager have an insurance policy on you?"
"Yes. He took one out ages ago, when I first signed with him."
"Were you aware he served time in prison and that's where he met Jason Durang?"
"I knew about Rob, of course, he disclosed that he'd gotten in trouble with the IRS and had served time. He hadn't paid the employees' taxes, but he knew Bodrie and he had a good reputation in the industry."
"He's a gambler."
She nodded. "But he doesn't gamble. He goes to regular meetings."
"Is that what he tells you?"
She swallowed hard. "Remy, if you have somethin' to tell me, just get to it."
He shook his head. He had no proof. He couldn't see her prissy manager as a cold-blooded killer. He'd thrown up when Remy had shown him the crime scene photographs, but Jason Durang was an altogether different proposition. He hadn't looked away or even showed any reaction whatsoever. Neither had the Rousseau brothers. Regardless, he believed Rob Butterfield and Jason Durang presented a danger to her.
"What about Durang?"
"I've seen him with Butterfield a few times, but I've never talked to him. He always avoided me. I don' know what he does."
"I'll drive you back home. I got a call from Drake and he wants me to meet him at the Inn to talk to Robert and Dion."
"You don' have to do that. I should check on the apartment and see how that's comin'. I was hopin' I could move in soon."
She sounded innocent. Her gaze didn't waver and there wasn't a single hint of being coy. He was tempted to reach out and shake some sense into her. Whatever sin he'd committed she hadn't forgiven him. She'd come to his office to get out of the Inn and away from Robert and his brother. She'd been glad to see him, she hadn't even attempted to hide that fact from him, but she wasn't planning a wedding anytime soon.
He didn't know whether to be hurt or angry, or just plain both. "You know you're probably pregnant with my child," he said bluntly. "Birth control doesn't work so well on leopards." He sounded smug even to his own ears.
Her lashes fluttered, veiling her expression. Her lips made a little moue. He saw the "tell" in her fingers rather than her face. Her hands curled into fists, but she immediately straightened them and clasped them primly together in her lap.
"Well, we'll have to see, won't we, Remy? The idea was very scary when you first mentioned it, but I've had time to think about it and I have no doubts I'll be able to handle havin' a child."
She sounded downright haughty, as if he wasn't in the picture at all. He leaned toward her, his eyes locking with hers. "We'll be able to handle it, Blue. There's no more 'I' here. If you think you're walkin' out on me, you can just think again. In fact, set a damn weddin' date and let's just get it over with. Talk to your idiot lawyers, I'll sign whatever prenup they want signed, but we're gettin' it done soon. And when I say soon, I mea
n no more than a couple of weeks."
She scowled at him, her eyebrows emphasizing her complete disgust. Both hands went to her hips. She stalked to the door, yanked it open and turned back. "Remy Boudreaux, you don' have a single romantic bone in your body and I'm ignorin' everything you just said and might say from now on. In fact, it would be better if you just didn't speak."
The entire bull pen turned around, including Mahieu. His brother was the only one who dared to grin.
"Blue . . ." Remy started.
She cut him off. "Don't say another word to me right now." She actually held up her hand to stop him. "For your information, lookin' hot and relyin' on your charm only carries you so far. Bein' good-lookin' doesn't give you a free pass to be a . . . a . . ."
"Jackass," Mahieu supplied helpfully.
Bijou nodded her head. "Thank you, Mahieu. That fits perfectly."
Several of the detectives coughed hard, turning their backs on their boss. Mahieu bowed. Bijou marched toward his brother, turning her back completely to him. She had a really nice sway to her hips that caught his eye.
"Mahieu would you mind givin' me a lift back to the Inn?"
That was enough. "If you value your life and don' want me spendin' the rest of mine behind bars, Mahieu, you'll politely decline," Remy warned. He'd already grabbed his jacket and shrugged into it, as he trailed behind Bijou.
Mahieu held up both hands in surrender. "When he's like this, it's best to just give him whatever he wants, Bijou."
She gave a little delicate sniff, but didn't turn around and didn't protest. Deliberately, Remy put his hand possessively on her back, down low, close to the curve of her buttocks. She glanced at him over her shoulder, but she kept walking. He heard the wave of laughter rippling behind him as they walked out.
"You did that on purpose, didn't you?" he demanded, moving up beside her, sliding her beneath his shoulder, one arm wrapping around her waist.
"A little bit, yes," she admitted, a hint of laughter in her voice. "But you deserved it." The amusement faded from her voice. "Never talk to me like that again. I don' like to be ordered around. Even if I'm pregnant, doesn't mean I want to run off and marry a man who just likes havin' me around for great sex."
"At least you admit it is great sex," he muttered.