Night Game (GhostWalkers, #3)(67)

Wanting a clean sweep of the surrounding area, Gator chose the high ground. They didn’t have long to wait. A car slowly made its way along the narrow ribbon of road leading to Burrell’s island. The driver parked in the small widened area where Burrell’s old truck still remained. Three men pushed the doors open, all the time looking around them warily.

Flame’s fingers closed around Gator’s wrist. “I’ve seen the man in the plaid shirt before. He works security for Saunders.” Could Saunders have had Burrell killed? He couldn’t have known she’d taken his money. There was nothing to trace the robbery back to her. What had Burrell said that morning? He was meeting Saunders later in the afternoon to pay him with a bank draft rather than cash.

She sank down, uncaring that she was sitting in muddy water. Her legs wouldn’t hold her. She never considered Saunders might kill Burrell if the riverboat captain made his last payment and took possession of the island. She looked around her. “Look at this, Raoul. This is a tiny piece of land, mostly uninhabitable. The ground is spongy, the water table is high. It’s worthless. There isn’t even enough wildlife to hunt for a living here, or trees to harvest. Saunders can’t want it badly enough to kill for it.”

Gator stroked a caress through her hair. “I have a feeling Saunders doesn’t like to lose. He’s a high-stakes player. Parsons has been trying to get something on him for a long time and from what I understand, they know Saunders is dirty, they just can’t nail him. And it isn’t because he’s that careful. His people are too afraid of him to ever testify against him and everyone who’s ever tried to go up against him has ended up dead.”

“What about Parsons? Is his cover really that good? I found out he was DEA. If I could, why couldn’t Saunders? A good computer hacker can find most anything.”

“Parsons resides here. He doesn’t really hide what he does. He’s a businessman and he lives in the same area as Saunders. They struck up a friendship and go to the same clubs. Saunders likes to rub elbows with the politicians and the hotshots in town. Parsons is only one of them. Saunders knows the mayor and even the governor.”

“But why would Parsons investigate here, in New Orleans, a man who would kill not only him, but his entire family?” She rubbed her forehead, a little frown on her face. “If he’s pretending to be friends, he’s playing a very dangerous and stupid game. And if they are friends, then he’s dirty right along with Saunders.”

“Who else did the agency have? They couldn’t get any one near Saunders and Parsons was already here and he knew Saunders socially. He had no choice.” His hand dropped to the nape of her neck, easing the tension out with his strong fingers. He kept his gaze on the three men as they tried without much success to read signs. The rain had been heavy all through the night and it was already beginning to drizzle again. It was obvious from the way they moved in the mud, the sweat on their clothes, and the way they slapped at all the insects, that the men weren’t used to the heat and mud of the bayou. They wouldn’t last long.

“You got all that information from Lily, didn’t you?”

He glanced up at the recrimination in her voice. We’re just goin’ to have to agree to disagree about Lily, sugah. Peter Whitney can burn in hell for what he did to you, but Lily is as much a victim as you are, maybe more. She believed he loved her. She even thought he was her biological father.”

Flame turned her face away from him. The rain came down harder, drenching them in spite of the canopy of trees. The three men jumped back into their vehicle, obviously consulting with one another before driving up the frontage road a short distance, past the remains of the burnt-out houseboat. The men looked at the blackened ruins and then pulled a U-turn and proceeded back toward the freeway.

Flame started to rise. Gator’s fingers tapped her wrist and he shook his head, holding up his hand for silence. He held up two fingers and pointed back toward the interior of the swamp.

Flame remained crouched in the mud, listening. She’d been so focused on the three men she hadn’t paid much attention to anything else. The familiar rhythm of the swamp was off-key. There was the hum of insects and the croak of frogs, even the scurrying of lizards through the brush, but something was slightly off-kilter. She closed her eyes and heard the soft whisper of material against bark. Someone was stealthily climbing down from a tree. It took a few minutes to pick up the steady heartbeat.

“Now who do you suppose has come looking for us?” she asked softly.

“Don’ jump to conclusions, cher. I’m going to circle around and see if I can spot him. I don’t want you killin’ anyone before breakfast.”

“You know he’s probably enhanced, Raoul. He’s here looking to find out what happened to his buddy. We can follow him when he leaves. Don’t go giving him a target. And don’t tip him off that we know he’s here.”

Gator laid a hand over his heart. “You think so little of my abilities. I may be charmin’, cher, but I know my stuff. He isn’t going to see me.”

The tightness in her chest increased tenfold. She grabbed his arm to keep him with her. She couldn’t, wouldn’t lose him. “You can’t go, Raoul.”

The little catch in her voice was his undoing. He ran missions all the time, most of them in the deadliest hot spots of the world, but here she was, looking up at him with fear in her eyes, fear for him, and he couldn’t move. “Kiss me.”