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  Bayou Heat

  Georgia Tribell

  There’s a killer lurking in the shadows of the French Quarter and he’s already killed Eris’ friend and mentor. With her unique psychic gift, Eris can follow trails that have long grown cold for the police. But first she must ditch the sexy bodyguard hired to protect her because he’s cramping her style and messing with her concentration.

  Rob has seen a lot of oddballs in his life, but nothing could prepare him for his latest assignment. Eris DuBose is as crazy as she is beautiful, and despite Rob’s best intentions to keep their relationship strictly business, he can’t resist the attraction burning between them. She manages to pull him into her crazy world and soon he finds himself dreaming of things he’d never considered possible. Now it’s going to take a miracle and a huge leap of faith on his part to make his dreams come true.

  An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

  www.ellorascave.com

  Bayou Heat

  ISBN 9781419920110

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Bayou Heat Copyright © 2009 Georgia Tribell

  Edited by Jaynie Ritchie

  Cover art by Dar Albert

  Electronic book publication December 2009

  The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing Inc., 1056 Home Avenue, Akron, OH 44310-3502.

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  Bayou Heat

  Georgia Tribell

  Dedication

  For my husband and kids, who never complain and are always willing to help out around the house. Thanks, guys. Remember I love you three, even when I’m glued to the computer.

  Acknowledgements

  I have to thank Mary, Donna and Robin for always listening to me and gently steering me back to the right path when I stray. Without them, none of this would be possible.

  Trademark Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Barbie: Mattel, Inc.

  Buick: General Motors Corporation

  California State University: California State University

  CSI: CBS Broadcasting Inc.

  Ding Dong: Interstate Brands West Corporation

  Dumpster: Dempster Brothers Inc. Corporation

  Jaguar XJ: Jaguar Cars Limited Corporation United Kingdom

  Sleeping Beauty: Disney Enterprises, Inc.

  Tulane: Administrators of the Tulane Educational Fund

  Chapter One

  Nights like these reminded Rob of his mother, may the sorry bitch rot in hell.

  He sat alone, nursing his drink as he surveyed the crowded bar. People smiled, laughed and outright flirted with each other, but none of them were real. There had to be more to life than this. Then again, maybe there wasn’t. Maybe life was just one assignment after another. And in between, there were one-night stands and Indulgence.

  Indulgence was one of his favorite haunts and one of the older, more established bars in the French Quarter. It was also within walking distance of his loft, which was a plus tonight because he planned on enjoying, to excess, his last night of freedom before starting a new assignment tomorrow morning.

  LD Carmouche, his partner at Titan Security Services, had called him earlier in the day and told him to be at the office by ten the next morning. Apparently there was another high-profile client who felt he needed personal protection. Rob enjoyed his job for the most part. It was these particular types of assignments that left a bad aftertaste in his mouth. He always ended up feeling like a highly paid escort instead of the highly skilled bodyguard he actually was. When he told LD this, the man had started laughing and then hung up without giving Rob a single detail.

  The front door opened and a group of women entered the bar, distracting him. There was a time, not so long ago, he would have considered qualities such as “gorgeous” and obviously “ready to party” as his type. He watched them sit at a table close to the stage and then turned his attention back to the drink in his hand.

  Taking a swallow of his bourbon on the rocks, he closed his eyes and wondered why the women didn’t interest him anymore. Eight months ago he would have been all over them like icing on a cake. Today they didn’t even tweak his interest, mentally or sexually. He glanced at them one more time.

  No. Nothing.

  Damn, even the man downstairs didn’t stir.

  He drained his glass, stood and crossed the room to the bar. He needed some type of distraction tonight so he didn’t spend all his time thinking about his current state of celibacy.

  “How’s it going?” Larry, the bartender, placed a fresh drink in front of him and started wiping the bar.

  “Could be worse.” Rob wasn’t in the mood for long discussions so he kept his answer short, hoping Larry would move on.

  Larry chuckled and jerked a thumb toward the back of the room. “Yeah, you could be like that one.”

  Rob turned and spotted a boyishly slim woman dressed in low-rise jeans, black biker boots, a cropped black top, assorted leather-studded jewelry and spiky hot pink hair. Her Gothic-inspired style clashed with the casual eveningwear of the other patrons.

  “All the girl does is stand there,” Larry went on, “staring at that wall.”

  Rob sat and sipped his drink and watched as a man approached the woman. When the man was directly behind her, he circled her bare waist with his hands and leaned forward, whispering in her ear. The woman turned to look at the man, but not enough so Rob could see her face, and said something in response.

  The man dropped his hands and stepped back so fast he almost toppled a tray carried by a passing waitress. From the look on the man’s face, he didn’t receive the answer he’d expected. Rob chuckled to himself and found his interest piqued as the woman turned her attention back to the blank wall. It was obvious she didn’t care what the man or anyone else thought.

  She stood there motionless for several minutes then took what appeared to be a tentative step to the right. He watched as she then moved two additional steps to the right then four steps to the left. Once, she actually vacated her post long enough to wander the bar in a helter-skelter pattern that made no sense to Rob’s analytical mind. Another time she stepped forward, placing her hand flat against the wall and dragging it along the rough brick surface as she walked the length of the room.

  Half an hour later, thumbs tucked into the front pockets of her jeans, she was still studying the wall. And Rob was still studying her.

  “Whatever your problems are,” Larry said, coming back to stand opposite Rob at the counter. “At least you haven’t succumbed to that.”

  Rob glanced at Larry, who stood polishing a glass. “So what’s her story?”

  Larry tilted h
is head in the direction of Goth-girl. “She’s been coming in here every night for the past week and it’s always the same thing. She talks to no one except that damn wall. Really wish people wouldn’t send their mental cases and homeless to our town.”

  Rob was about to argue that the woman looked too well put together to be mentally unstable or homeless when Larry was summoned away by another customer. Turning his attention back to Goth-girl, he found himself intrigued by her actions.

  Without thinking, he stood and crossed the room to stand next to her. Crossing his arms over his chest, he attempted to examine the wall but spent more time scrutinizing the woman next to him.

  This close, it was obvious she was not a transient. Even though she was punked out, it was apparent she took great care in the way she dressed. She was clean, her clothes pressed and she smelled of vanilla and cinnamon.

  He read the words splashed across the front of her shirt in bold hot pink letters.

  Party Favor.

  The woman was defiantly unconventional in her ways.

  “What?”

  Rob lifted his gaze and focused on the dark green eyes that were silently daring him to make a comment. The one word had been issued as a challenge and he was just bored enough with his life to take her up on it. “The Contemporary Arts Center has some wonderful walls. They even have the novel idea of hanging pictures on theirs. You might want to give it a try for variety.”

  She smiled—a wickedly innocent smile. “Yes, they often show great works, but my personal favorite is the Ogden Museum of Southern Art, which is featuring Martin Gray. He’s a fabulous photographer. If you haven’t seen his work, you really should, but maybe the Children’s Museum is geared more toward your intellectual level.”

  Goth-girl turned and walked out without a backward glance.

  Rob laughed as he returned to his barstool. It wasn’t often he met a woman who was capable of handling his dry sense of humor. Usually his jokes earned him a cold laugh or a “don’t do that again”glare. He’d never met anyone who’d responded so quickly intellectually or hit the mark the first time out. The woman zinged him good.

  He finished his drink and stood. With Goth-girl gone, there was no reason for him to hang around. Besides, it was well after midnight and he did have a morning meeting.

  Out on the sidewalk, Rob soaked up the sounds and smells of the French Quarter. At one time, he had wanted nothing more from life than a one-way ticket out of this town. He finally accepted the fact this was where he was meant to be and he was content with that decision. Now if he could just figure out how to get rid of the empty feeling plaguing him day and night, he’d be one happy camper.

  Turning toward home, he dodged pedestrian traffic and kept an eye out for pickpockets. He grew up running these streets, even relieving a few of the less observant tourists of their heavy billfolds a time or two—maybe more. It was a skill that still came in handy.

  He stopped a couple of steps back from the corner to let a large group of people pass by. He’d been seven when he’d learned not to get caught next to an alley without a means of escape. There’d been a group of innocent-appearing boys walking past him as he crossed in front of a dark alley. Two of the boys had grabbed him and dragged him into the darkness to take his money. He was lucky to come out of the alley with only a broken nose, but he’d learned his lesson.

  He continued his journey, and as he crossed in front of the alley, movement in the shadows of the dark street caught his attention. He paused and wondered if an unsuspecting tourist had been lured into a trap.

  The sound of shuffling feet, a heartfelt moan and a few colorful curses from two people reached him. The voices were young, male and no concern of his, Rob thought as he took a step forward.

  “You boys need to run along home before one of you gets hurt.”

  The third voice that drifted out of the alleyway caused Rob to pause midstride. Surely Goth-girl wasn’t stupid enough to go down a dark side street alone and in the dead of night.

  “You’re the one who’s going to get hurt, lady,” a young male voice responded.

  “I don’t think so.” Goth-girl’s voice was confident and strong.

  Oh yeah, that deep, sultry voice could only belong to the pink-haired lady. Her actions in the bar had made him wonder if she was a brick or two short of a load. This stunt confirmed it. He wasn’t in the mood to rescue a damsel in distress, but his conscience wouldn’t let him walk away either.

  He made his way down the alley, careful to stay in the shadows. As he approached, he noticed the teen with green hair was trying to distract her while the other young male, adorned with chains and a studded dog collar, was attempting to circle behind her. The pair was failing miserably because despite her heavy boots, Goth-girl was quick on her feet and in constant motion, making it impossible for the boys to flank her. He was too far away to help when the teen wearing the chains and studs rushed her, but she nimbly sidestepped the attack and watched as the boy tumbled to the ground.

  Stud-boy rolled to his feet and glared at her. “Look, lady, all we want is your money.”

  “Money that I worked hard for? You expect me to just hand it over to you? Don’t think so.”

  Before Rob could say or do anything, the green-haired punk charged her from the left as the other thief came at her from the right. Instinct took over and Rob lunged forward, attempting to put himself between Goth-girl and the two hoodlums.

  Green-hair got by him, but Rob punched Stud-boy, sending him to the ground hard. Rob heard a scuffle behind him and only had time for a quick glance. Goth-girl appeared to be holding her own for the moment, which was a good thing because Stud-boy came up fast, wielding a knife. Keeping an eye on it, Rob reached into his own pocket and pulled out his blade. With a flick of his wrist, Rob opened the six-inch butterfly knife and saw the flash of doubt cross the kid’s face.

  It was moments like these when Rob really enjoyed not being in the FBI anymore. He gave a short, bitter laugh and moved forward. “It’s been a long time since I was in a good street fight. Let’s party.”

  From beside him, Rob saw a lightning-fast kick then heard a sharp cry of pain as a knife flew past him and landed on the pavement. The teen he was facing blanched then turned and ran, leaving his partner in crime behind to take the heat. With that threat gone, Rob turned his attention to the pair beside him, expecting to have to intervene. He was more than a little surprised to see Goth-girl standing and Green-hair down on the ground cradling one wrist.

  “I think you broke my wrist!”

  Goth-girl stood there with hands on hips, looking down at the boy. She reminded him of a goddess, with pink hair that is, who’d been wronged.

  “Good. I hope I did. Maybe while it’s healing, you’ll think about how stupid this was. The next time you try to rob someone, they might just pull a gun and blow you away.”

  The kid looked over at Rob as if he’d just noticed him and, as he did, Rob slid a hand under his jacket. The kid’s eyes bulged out as he tried to scoot away on his butt.

  “I’m sorry. Really. Don’t hurt me.”

  “Get out of here.” Rob’s words were hard and cold. “If I catch you doing this again, I won’t be so kind.”

  The kid scrambled to his feet and started to run in the direction his friend had escaped. Rob closed his knife and returned it to his pocket as he walked over and retrieved the kid’s forgotten weapon.

  “What did you think you were doing?”

  Rob dropped the closed knife into his pocket as he turned and tamped down his temper. “Saving your hide, that’s what.”

  “If that’s your idea of help, then please, next time, don’t help me. Because of you, I took a hit.” She rubbed her jaw as she condemned him to hell with her eyes.

  “A ‘thanks’ would be nice.” His words only made her glare harder. Then she turned and started walking away.

  “By the way, I saw that kick and it was good and solid, but luck won’t always be on your side. It
was stupid not to give them what they wanted.”

  He watched as she stopped and turned back to stare at him, shoulders squared. “That kick wasn’t luck and I’m not stupid.”

  He closed the distance between them. “That’s debatable.”

  He shadowed her moves as she took a step back and to the left. Her gaze roamed over him and he saw a flicker of unease cross her face. Her body language let him know that he’d gone from friend to foe in the blink of an eye. Good, she needed to learn a lesson.

  He moved in close enough that she was forced to tilt her head back to look him in the eyes. The dim light reflected what might have been fear in her eyes, but she held her ground.

  He could once again smell her vanilla and cinnamon scent and it pulled at him. His eyes fell to her mouth, now temptingly close. “You need to be more careful walking these streets without a companion. You never know what dangers might cross your path.”

  Rob dipped his head, planning to show her how vulnerable she was. Then his lips met hers and, for a fleeting moment, he wondered if she was the one truly at risk. Then he stopped thinking at all as he deepened the kiss.

  “Ouch! You bit my lip.”

  The handsome stranger jerked away and his hand moved to his mouth. Eris DuBose clenched her fists at her sides to keep from crossing them in front of her and forced herself not to move away from him. She didn’t want to let this man know he unnerved her more than the two hoodlum wannabes. She was confident she could have taken both of them, but she wasn’t so sure about this guy.

  He was wearing khakis pants, dress shirt and a leather bomber jacket, like ninety percent of the businessmen who worked in this town. That was where the similarities ended. It could be the long blond hair that was carefully tied back, or the diamond earring that flashed in his ear, but more likely it was the aura of danger, self-confidence and power he emitted that told her he was a born fighter.