Cajun Magic 01 - Voodoo on the Bayou (14 page)

What the heck was Mo doing here? Craig needed to escape, but curiosity got the better of him and he leaned closer, straining to hear and see.

With her back to him, Elaine answered, “Actually, I don’t. But I expect we’ll go out on the swamp again tonight. Do you want me to give him a message?”

“
Oui
, tell him to come see his old friend Mo.”

“Is it an emergency?” Her voice was polite and inquisitive.

“I guess in some ways dat what it be.”

“Anything I can help with?” She leaned toward Mo.

“Just tell him, I arrange him a date with DeeDee Dubois for tonight. She’ll be waiting at Catfish Haven at eight.”

Elaine’s back stiffened. “Oh.”

Craig cringed.
Thanks, Mo. You have the insight of a moose.

“I have de night shift at de factory, otherwise I’d tell him myself.”

“I understand.” Her voice sounded strained.

If Craig had entertained ideas of showing up naked in her room and picking up where they’d left off the night before, he squashed those ideas now. Some serious damage control had to be done in the wake of hurricane Mo.

The big Cajun clod backed away from the doorway. Elaine followed him out on the porch with Dawg close at her heels.

While she and Mo stood outside the front door, Craig found his shoes in a corner and slipped them on. He sneaked around the bedroom door and dashed for the back kitchen entry. No time to grab his clothes, the towel would have to do.

With all the speed of a hurdle jumper in Olympic competition, he flew through the backyards of the neighboring houses, hell-bent on getting to the bait shop.

As he passed the house next door, he spied Mozelle Reneau with her broom, poised in the light over her back porch. She gaped at him, her mouth dropping open.

Heat burned up his neck to his cheeks. Hell, what did you say to an old woman when you streaked by her in nothing but a towel? “Hi, Miz Mozelle!”

“Craig, what do you think you’re doing, running around in nothing more than your birthday suit?”

“Can’t talk now,” he yelled, leaping over her azaleas into the next backyard.

He didn’t slow down or look back, but he heard Mozelle’s exclamation, “Good Lord. What’s the world a-comin’ to?”

When he finally stood in the safety of the little room off the back of the bait shop, he hauled in deep breaths. The situation had reached the point of ridiculous.

He had to find someone to love him, and soon, or he’d go stark-raving mad. Perhaps a date with DeeDee Dubois would be the trick. Surely, she would be desperate enough to fall in love with him on sight. He hated what it would do to Elaine after they’d shared such an incredible night together, but she’d be better off without him.

Climbing into a clean pair of jeans, he paused. A vision of Elaine asleep that morning, her hair spread against the pillow, her mouth full and tender from a night’s kissing, plagued his mind.

Get over it. She’s not your type.

Elaine Smith was out of the equation now. Craig had no desire to drag her any further into the quagmire of his life. She deserved to find true love.

No matter how much the thought of seeing her with another man tore at his heart.

Chapter Fourteen

So. Craig had a date with DeeDee DuBois.

Elaine shouldn’t have been so surprised. He’d told her he wasn’t the commitment type. And she’d said she didn’t care.

Which she didn’t.

Then why did she feel so rotten?

She sat at the Formica table, her hands curled around a cup of tea. Normally, she’d be heading over to the bait shop at this time, ready to go out on the swamp with Craig.

Given the circumstances, why bother? He had a date with DeeDee. That would take a couple hours at the least. If they didn’t decide to have dessert at her place…

A knot of pain tightened in Elaine’s belly. She pushed aside the tea and dropped her forehead to the table. Hopeless. That’s what she was. Her track record with men stunk. She’d dated Brian because he was within her comfort level. With Craig, nothing about comfort entered her mind. He made her burn all over.

“Why am I such a fool?” She banged her forehead on the smooth, speckled tabletop.

A knock at the screen door made her turn her head sideways against the table.

The screen opened and Craig stepped through, a perplexed look on his face. “Are you okay?”

She jerked up her head, her cheeks flaming. “Of course, I’m okay. Why shouldn’t I be?”
Just because you have a date with DeeDee shouldn’t make me want to crawl under a rock.

“I got worried when you didn’t show up at the shop. Aren’t we going out on the swamp tonight?”

The clock on the mantle chose that moment to bong eight times.

“Didn’t your friend Maurice find you?” she asked.

“No. Why?”

“He dropped by here earlier with a message for you. He said you had a date with DeeDee DuBois at the Catfish Haven. Shouldn’t you be there by now?”

His lips curved upward and his oh-so-blue eyes twinkled. “I had the same message from DeeDee. But after last night, how could I go out with someone else? I called and told her I had a prior engagement.”

Sudden joy surged through Elaine’s body. She quickly squelched it. Craig was a ladies man and she was only one of his ladies, she reminded herself. Just because he’d cancelled his date with DeeDee didn’t mean anything.

Did it?

His gaze roamed over her shoulders and down to her legs. “If we’re going, you better change. The mosquitoes would have a heyday on your body in that outfit.”

Warmed by his perusal, she averted her eyes. “I’ll only be a minute.” She leaped from her chair and dashed to the bedroom. After closing the door behind her, she collapsed against the wooden panel, her heart pounding in her chest.

He’s here. He’s here!

Three feet in front of her stood the white iron bed they’d shared the night before, the sheets still tangled from their lovemaking. She hadn’t been able to face making it after he disappeared that morning.

Now, the sheets called to her and her breasts tingled against the fabric of her sundress. Wickedly sensual possibilities raced through her mind, and her breathing quickened. What would he do if she opened the door and invited him in for an encore?

But he hadn’t come to make love. He’d come to take her back out on the swamp. He hadn’t so much as hinted at a repeat of their passion-filled night, let alone attempted it. She pressed a hand to her stomach.

Could what they’d shared have been only one-sided? She’d thought their passion magical. Didn’t he? Had he been bored with her, like Brian? As the ultimate failure hit her hard, tears welled. Good God, she was unexciting in bed. More than anything she wanted to run and hide. Just as she’d done to get away from Brian.

A single tear leaked out of the corner of her eye and trailed down her cheek. When the lone droplet reached the edge of her chin and dripped on her hand, her foggy brain kicked in gear.

What the hell am I doing?
Was her spine made of swamp goo?

No.

She scrubbed away the tear and straightened, reminding herself why she’d come to this podunk town in the first place. Not to run away, but to help solve the mystery of what was killing the swamp at Bayou Miste.

Not, repeat,
not
to sleep with Fish Boy.

Her only logical course of action was to ignore the man completely. Or at the very least, her attraction to him.

With a decisive sweep of her arm, she stripped the sundress over her head and tossed it across the room. In a few efficient movements she slipped into jeans, a long-sleeved white blouse, socks, and her oversized rubber boots. Thus fully covered, she felt more equipped to face the incredibly hunky Cajun waiting to take her out for a boat ride.

After a deep breath, she flung open the door, ready to march into battle.

Craig stood in the middle of the living room in his tight jeans, long-sleeved chambray shirt, and a smile hot enough to initiate a core meltdown in her nuclear reactor.

Listing to port with the wind sucked out of her sails, she almost ducked back into the bedroom. How could she avoid responding to him? No woman in her right mind could ignore such a perfect male specimen.

“Are you ready?”

Elaine forced a flippant tone into her voice. “As far as I’m concerned, the sooner we get to the bed, the better.”

A chuckle from Fish Boy made her rewind what she’d just said.
Damn
. She slammed her eyes shut briefly, then opened them. “Boat. I meant boat.”

His nod and slightly curled lip didn’t ease her embarrassment. Not only did he find her boring in bed, he thought she was funny even to suggest they jump back in the sack.

Mortified, but determined, she grabbed her bucket, nets, and satchel, and stomped to the door. When he didn’t follow, she turned back with one eyebrow quirked up. “Well, are we going or not?”

His lips widened into a full-fledged laughing grin. “We go,
cher
.”

She charged ahead, staying two feet in front of him. As she passed Miz Mozelle’s house, the old woman stuck her head out the door and shouted, “Watch out for that pervert, Elaine. He’s up to no good. I can tell you that. I’m gonna have a good long talk with that uncle of yours, Craig Thibodeaux.” She waived her fist at him and ducked back inside.

Elaine slowed and looked at him, then back at the empty porch. “What’s that all about?”

He spread his hands wide. “I have no idea. None whatsoever.”

A sideways glance at his less than guilt-free face confirmed he was lying. Typical.

Still angry—mostly at herself—she clung to her ire, stalking ahead of Craig all the way to the dock. Once her feet hit the boardwalk, she stopped and stepped aside to let him lead the way. Anger could be carried too far. No need in setting herself up for another fall into the water.

When they sat safely in the skiff, she realized she wasn’t as petrified of the boat or the water as on the first day. Bolstered, instead of facing toward him, she turned her back and faced forward. As they slid through the murky swamp, the gentle breeze stirred by their progress caressed her face.

She closed her eyes and imagined his fingers curling around her jaw line and down her throat.

“Duck.”

She opened her eyes in time to see a willow branch laden with Spanish moss. Dodging to the left, she avoided being slapped in the face. When they cleared the overhang and entered the polluted lagoon, she saw a light gleaming from the bow of a much larger, modern airboat. On its broad deck, two men wrestled a barrel to the edge and shoved it overboard.

She leaned back and placed her hand on Craig’s leg. “Look! There’s someone out there,” she whispered.

As the barrel sank into the water, so did the realization of what she’d just witnessed. “Omigod.” She clapped a hand to her cheek. “It’s them! The ones polluting the swamp.”

Just then, one of the men looked up and spotted their pirogue. He turned to his partner and pointed in their direction.

Craig swung the skiff in a tight circle.

“Where are you going? We have to stop them!”

“No, we have to get the hell out of here before they shoot us and dump us in with that last barrel.”

She glanced back at the airboat. One man jumped into the driver’s seat and revved the engine. The other slid in next to him. The boat swung around and aimed right at their tiny skiff.

“Hurry, Craig!” Elaine shouted. “Oh crap, oh crap. They’re coming straight for us!”

“Keep your head low. They might have guns.”

“Would they shoot as us?”

In answer, a popping sound penetrated the steady drone of the motor.

“Get down!” Craig yelled.

Elaine bent double, her heart in her throat. “What are we going to do?”

“Do you think you can flip the switch on the front light?”

“I can try.” She dropped to her hands and knees on the floor of the pirogue and inched forward, swaying with every sweeping turn. Cool water soaked through her jeans, chilling her until her teeth clattered together. When she made it to the front of the boat, she ran trembling fingers up the metal pole until she encountered the switch.
Click
. The light went out.

Craig flipped the switch on the back light, plunging them into darkness.

“We don’t stand a chance of outrunning them,” he shouted over the whine of their overburdened motor and the quickly approaching airboat. “We have to find a place to hide.”

Meager moonlight trickled through the dense canopy. She strained to make out what was ahead, wondering how he could see enough to steer.

A branch loomed in front of her and she leaned sideways. “Duck!” she shouted.

She hoped the low branch would be more of a hindrance to the larger vessel. She glanced back to see if their pursuers would slow.

The airboat, lights blazing, blasted through the leaves.

Craig steered into a smaller waterway. She kept a close eye on what lay ahead to keep from getting knocked from the craft, while glancing back to gauge the distance between them and the gun-toting villains on the faster boat.

As the channels narrowed, the airboat slowed. Several gunshots cracked the air. Something whizzed by Elaine’s ear and hit the water a few feet away.

“Get on the bottom of the boat. Now!” Craig called.

With her heart pounding in her throat, she dove for the hold, bumping her knee on the bucket. “But what about—”

Another shot rang out.

Craig’s arm jerked off the tiller and the skiff wallowed to a stop.

Why was he slowing? A glance behind them sent her heart skittering down into her stomach. “They’re getting closer.”

He grunted and shifted to the other side of the bench seat. With his other hand, he grasped the handle, gunned the motor, and whipped the pirogue around a bend in the maze of islands. The thick trunks of dozens of cypress blocked them from the airboat’s view, but Craig didn’t let up speed until they could no longer hear or see the light from the other craft.

Uncomfortable against the metal ribs and rivets, she lifted her head and peered behind them. No airboat, no villains shooting bullets their way. She swiveled to look ahead.

The skiff angled slowly toward what looked like a willow tree. Before she could open her mouth to cry out, the bow parted the slender leaves and they entered a natural grotto. The leaves fell back in place behind them blocking out the meager light from the moon.

Craig cut the engine and the skiff drifted to a stop.

She sat up in the bottom of the boat, feeling around like a blind man for the bench seat. “Do you think we’re safe?” she whispered.

No answer.

With her eyes opened wide to let in any light whatsoever, she spotted his outline hunched at the rear of the boat. “Craig?”

He shifted and muttered. “Damn.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” A grunt gave lie to his words.

“Bullshit.” She hauled herself up to the bench next to him and felt her way up to his shoulders.

Her right hand connected with something warm and sticky.

He flinched.

A heavy weight settled in her chest and she scrambled to find the light and snapped it on.

“You’re wounded!” Her heart threatened to choke off her air supply.

My God. Those bastards may have killed him!

…

Craig gritted his teeth to keep from groaning. His shoulder burned like the devil. “It’s nothing. The bullet grazed me. I’ll be fine.”

The back light swayed. The reflection off the water bounced off the canopy of leaves transforming the grotto into a greenish-yellow cocoon.

Elaine’s face had blanched and her eyes were round as saucers. “Omigosh.”

“Really, it looks worse than it is. The bullet just grazed the skin.” He flexed his arm, wincing again at the pain. “No damage to the muscles or bones.”

She seemed to gather herself. “Let me get a better look.” With shaking hands, she unbuttoned the chambray shirt and gently pushed it over his damaged shoulder. “You’re right. It’s just a flesh wound. However we need to stop the bleeding. Did you bring any towels?”

“Use the knife in the tackle box to rip off a piece of my shirt.”

She dove for the box next to his feet and surfaced with the knife. Instead of slicing into his shirt, she ripped her shirttails from the waistband of her jeans and unbuttoned the front. Thinking she’d cut a piece off the bottom, Craig was surprised when she slipped the whole shirt over her shoulders and held it in her lap. Dressed only in a lacy white bra and jeans, she sliced through the fabric of her blouse.

Craig gulped and tried not to stare at her full, rounded breasts. Breasts he’d nibbled on with such delight the night before. “Careful with that thing. I use it for filleting fish. It’s sharp.”

“Hush and let me take care of you.” Grabbing the sides of the sliced blouse, she ripped it in two. With a few quick movements, she slit and cut it again into a smaller piece. Then she folded the corners of the square and pressed it against his wound.

He winced, drawing an apologetic smile from her. “Can you hold this and apply pressure while I make a strap to hold the bandage in place?”

With his tongue too dry to articulate, he reached up with his good hand. She guided his fingers into place, and then bent to the task of cutting the rest of her shirt.