"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."