Friends and Lovers Trilogy 03 - Seduced (17 page)

Jake shook his head no. “Listen. I know this Luc was a sore spot with you and JP. Maybe it would be better if I broke the news.”

“No. Thanks, Jake, but it should come from me.” He palmed his forehead. Wow. Talk about a helluva bomb.

“There’s a slim chance that it could be worse,” Murphy said.

Rudy and Jake spoke as one. “Worse?”

“I told you that the police declared Dupris’s death accidental. Bogie’s not so sure.” He went on to explain Sofia’s supposed run-in with two hostile cowboys and Luc’s last words.

Rudy traded looks with Jake, a bad feeling settling in his bones. “So, Bogie thinks the same men who tangled with Sofia killed Luc?”

Murphy shrugged. “No, that’s Sofia’s take. Bogie doesn’t know what to think. So far he hasn’t been able to nail down one piece of hard evidence to support any of Sofia’s theories. All he has is her word and his gut feeling that she’s in danger.”

“That’s good enough for me,” Rudy said. Thank God Jean-Pierre hadn’t been home. Nausea—acid sharp—roiled in his stomach and dank sweat beaded on his brow. The man he loved could have been lying in the morgue tonight. He shifted in his seat. “Your brother should bring Sofia here so we can keep her safe.”

“Bogie will protect her,” Murphy said.

“That’s if she truly needs protection,” Jake added.

Rudy’s head spun as he swiveled around and signed off the Internet. Casper was the least of his troubles. “Sofia can’t remember when, where or why she tangled with those … cowboys?”

Murphy grunted. “Apparently, she blocked it out.”

“Selective amnesia,” the blond P.I. surmised. He glanced at Murphy. “You don’t want Lulu to know?”

“Until I have concrete information, I’d prefer that we kept this between ourselves.”

Rudy groaned. “Keeping secrets from loved ones, even when we only mean to protect them, usually backfires.” He shot Jake a meaningful glance. “Right?”

“Sorry. I tend to agree with Murphy on this. Why upset Lulu if this is simply an exaggeration of some kind on Sofia’s part?”

“I’m not saying nothing happened,” Murphy put in. “But whatever caused the amnesia could also be causing her to mind to play tricks. Bogie says she’s already cited a couple of instances reminiscent of a “Spy Girl” episode. She could be confusing fiction and fact.”

Rudy shifted in his seat. “But then, that means I can’t tell Jean-Pierre about Sofia’s suspicion that Luc may have been murdered.”

“Why plant that seed if it’s bogus?” Jake asked. “Why make it any rougher on JP?”

Rudy shook his head. “I can’t believe I’m getting suckered into another lie.”

Murphy raised a brow. “Don’t be a schmuck, Gallow. It’s called protecting loved ones from unnecessary hurt.”

Just then headlights splashed through the office window. Rudy pushed out of his leather high-back and moved toward the door. His pulse quickened. “Depending on how Jean-Pierre takes the news, it could be a rough night, regardless.”

Jean-Pierre cut the ignition of his rental car. He eyed the four-door parked next to Rudy’s used Subaru and clenched his jaw against a tidal wave of anger. He glanced at the rambling inn silhouetted against a moonlight sky and tamped down a flutter of anxiety. He’d spent the entire day rehearsing for what promised to be a dramatic scene. Dozens of thoughts and feelings expressed in varying degrees of honesty and hostility. Two resolutions.

He was mentally and physically fatigued, and he had yet to confront Rudy.

Part of him wanted to get this over with. Part of him wanted to pretend like nothing was wrong. On the long, dark drive from Burlington to Rainbow Ridge, he’d almost convinced himself that Hollyberry Inn was indeed cursed with wiring problems. That Rudy hadn’t been lying. That he wasn’t playing around. But if the inn was not ready for guests, then why was there a strange car parked in the drive at one o’clock in the morning?

The tips of his ears burned as he exited the car and stalked toward the front door
sans
luggage. His heart thudded against his chest as months of pent-up hurt and frustration churned in his empty stomach. He curled his fingers into his sweaty palms, mounted the steps, and raised his fist to announce his arrival.

The door swung open before his knuckles connected. Rudy stood on the threshold in his velvet lounge pants and matching robe. He smoothed his hand over his dark goatee, and sighed.

“You do not look happy to see me, Bunny.” Exhausted and emotionally fragile, Jean-Pierre’s patience snapped. At the sound of creaking wood, he glanced around Rudy’s bulked-up body and saw a silhouetted form moving up the hall, nude to the waist. He glared at the love of his life through tears of pain and exploded. “
Bâtard
!”

He struck out, landing a hard punch to Rudy’s cheekbone. They both yelped in shock.

Rudy staggered back.

Ignoring his smarting knuckles, Jean-Pierre sprang forward and tackled the taller man to the hardwood floor, landing blow after blow. “I loved you, trusted you, and you betrayed me!”

Rudy didn’t fight back, just tried to block the hits.

Jean-Pierre’s rage gave him the upper hand.

“Whoa. Whoa,” he heard a man say. Someone grabbed him by the shoulders and hauled him backwards.

Jean-Pierre swung blindly and clipped the “other man” in the balls.

“Motherfu …” He grabbed his crotch and stumbled back in pain.

“That hurt,” noted a third male voice.

Confused, Jean-Pierre whirled around and came face to face with Lulu’s husband. “Murphy?”

The bodyguard held up a hand in warning. “Take a swing, and I’ll have to hurt you, Legrand.”

He heard footsteps on the stairway, squinted as an overhead lamp flicked on flooding the foyer with light. He turned around for a clear look at the man he’d punched in the groin.
Jake
. “
Merde
.”

“What’s going on down there?”

Winded from his tirade, Jean-Pierre fell back against the door jamb and watched as Lulu, and then Afia, came to a dead halt on the stair’s landing. Sleepy-eyed, they stared at the carnage.

He glanced over at Rudy who’d pushed himself into a sitting position. Robe askew, he swiped at the blood trickling from the corner of his swollen lip. The sensitive skin beneath his right eye puffed. Overall, the man looked stunned. Jean-Pierre jammed both hands through his thick, shaggy hair. “What have I done?”

“Looks like you wigged out,” Lulu said.

Now he knew what one of her red-hazed furies felt like. She blew her top and then, after cooling, regretted her rash, often hurtful actions. Ah,
oui
, regret sang through his veins.

“Put some ice on that eye, Gallow,” Murphy said as he breezed by. “It’s going to swell.”

Afia stepped off the landing and moved toward Jake. “Are you all right, honey? You look like you’re going to be sick.”

“He’ll live,” Murphy said. He grasped Lulu’s hand. “Come on, princess. Let’s go back to bed.”

“But, I didn’t even get to say hello to Jean-Pierre.”

“He’ll be here in the morning.” The bodyguard peered over his shoulder. “Won’t you, Legrand?”

Funny. It sounded more like an order than a question. “
Oui
.”

Murphy whispered something in Lulu’s ear, and whisked her up the stairs.

Afia put her arm around her husband who was still trying to catch his breath. She shot Jean-Pierre a disapproving look. “Why in the world did you hit Jake and Rudy?”

“Because he thought we were lovers,” Rudy answered for him.

“That’s absurd,” she said.

“I know,” Jean-Pierre said, feeling quite the fool.

Afia shook her head. “Honestly.”

He angled his head toward Jake. “I am sorry,
mon ami
.”

“Forget it,” he wheezed, while steering Afia toward the stairs. “Come on, baby.”

“I’m adding this to the list of things to talk about tomorrow,” she said as they scaled the landing.

“Yippee,” Rudy mumbled.

“Don’t forget to ice your eye, Rudy,” Afia called over her shoulder. “Goodnight, Jean-Pierre. Welcome home.”

Home
. The word, the concept, filled Jean-Pierre with simultaneous joy and remorse.
Home
was the man he’d just wrongly pummeled. “Why did you not fight back, Bunny?”

The dark-haired man dabbed the back of his hand to his bloodied lip. “I had it coming.”

“But, you did nothing wrong.”

“Not tonight, no.” Rudy pushed himself to his feet. “But I don’t think your fury was rooted in tonight.”

Jean-Pierre sighed. “Not entirely, no.”

Rudy rolled back his shoulders, tightened the sash around his waist. “Are we going to be okay?”

“I do not know.”

The muscled-marvel inched closer. “We need to talk about this, Jean-Pierre. I need to know what you’re feeling. And I want you to know where I’m coming from.”

“Ah,
oui.
Talking is what I had in mind before I … wigged out.” He’d rehearsed this confrontation all day. Not once had he envisioned actually pummeling Rudy in a fit of rage. His violent outburst was most unexpected and made him strangely aware of the distasteful power of jealously. He tenderly brushed his thumb over Rudy’s cheekbone. “I am not sure the ice will help. You are going to have, what do you call it? A shiner.”

Rudy quirked a sad smile. “There are worse things, believe me.” He caught Jean-Pierre’s hand in his own, kissed his palm. “Come in and sit down. Before we talk, I have some news about a friend, and it isn’t good.”

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on between Rudy and Jean-Pierre?” Lulu asked as she slipped under the cool sheets.

Murphy shucked his T-shirt and shorts and climbed into bed. “Tomorrow.” He snuggled up against her, hard muscle and hot flesh.

She closed her eyes, tried to ignore the delightful tingling between her legs when he kissed the sensitive part of her wrist. “Are you going to let me talk to Sofie?”

“Eventually.” He licked a sizzling path to the bend of her elbow.

“Are you trying to distract me?”

“I’m trying to make love to my wife.” He captured her mouth with his own and seduced her with one of his blue ribbon kisses.

Her limbs melted and her heart bloomed. She gasped when he moved on, tonguing her neck and the soft hollow of her throat. Sex with Colin was always exciting. Before him, she’d never known kinky. Kinky for her meaning anything other than missionary sex. Seven months into their marriage and they’d already explored several of the positions in the Kama Sutra. He’d presented her with the book for their one-month anniversary, and she’d surprised him by being a quick and enthusiastic study. “Um, Colin,” she whispered, while he unbuttoned her Sponge Bob pajama top. “Afia and Jake are in the next room. They’ll hear us.” She tended to get a little loud and aggressive in the midst of play. Something her warrior husband loved.

He grinned down at her as he palmed one of her breasts. “Maybe it will inspire them.”

She squirmed in delight when he traced tickling circles around her puckered buds. “But, she’s eight months pregnant.”

“Trust me, that’s not stopping Jake.” He laughed low. “Although he’s probably down for the count tonight.”

She traced her fingertips along his hard jaw, over his soft lips. A man of sharp contrasts, in more ways than one. “What made Jean-Pierre wig out?”

“Tomorrow.” He nipped her finger, then whispered a naughty suggestion in her ear.

Desire, fierce and hot, flowed through her pliant body, her thoughts drifting from real life to the illustrated pages of the Kama Sutra as he lavished attention on her breasts. She sucked in a sharp breath. “Be careful. They’re tender.”

“They are rather full.” He smiled against her skin. “Not that I’m complaining.”

“Yes, well, don’t get too attached. It’s just a pre-menstrual thing.”

“Like your cravings for salty food.”

“Exactly.”

“I’ve got cravings too,” he drawled, while ridding her of her pajama bottoms.

“Colin?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry about tricking you into coming up here early.”

“No, you’re not.”

She sighed. “You’re right, I’m not. Rudy and Jean-Pierre need our support just now.”

He smoothed her messy curls from her face. “They’ve got it, hon. We won’t leave until they’re on track.”