KILLING ME SOFTLY (15 page)

"Who says I did?"

"It's common knowledge," she shot back. "You two were constantly seen arguing. Just days before his death someone overheard you threaten him if he didn't start cooperating."

Cain lifted an eyebrow, surprised by how much she'd learned in such a short time. Someone had a loose tongue, he realized. Someone had forgotten the lessons of the past.

Instinctively he scanned the semidarkened gaming room, much as he'd been doing since the moment he arrived. It would be easy to attribute the hum in his blood to Renee, but Cain had never been one to take the easy way. Instinct wouldn't let him. The swarm of gamblers looked innocuous, the press of the elderly and the impoverished, those who had no business trading hard-earned money—or social security checks—for the lure of chance … or the hunger of the Russian Mafia.

"There's a difference between knowledge and rumor." And the bridge between the two was illusion. During his days on the force, he'd worked hard to make people believe what he wanted them to believe, see what he'd wanted them to see. And it had worked. Not even his sister, Saura, had realized the truth. "If your intent is to uncover all my dirty secrets, you're going to have to dig harder."

"He was dating your sister," Renee pointed out.

This time Cain laughed. "I'm not sure which one of them wanted to piss me off more." Older by eleven months, Saura once thrived on doing the exact opposite of what was expected. She'd taken rebellion to new heights … until the day a bullet had killed two for the price of one.

Cain lifted the glass to his mouth. "Is that all you've got?"

She released the strand of hair, let it fall against her cheek. "You really think I'm going to lay all my cards on the table for you to analyze?"

"Analysis isn't what I have in mind." He wasn't sure what he expected when he stepped closer, but it wasn't for her to go deadly still, to stare beyond him as though he'd neither spoken nor moved. Intrigued, he supped his hand between her arm and her waist and let it settle against her lower back. "Maybe I just want to help."

The sharp intake of air felt better than it should have. So did the shock coloring her eyes. Since the moment he'd caught her trespassing by the cottage, she'd been in control, remote almost, untouchable, as though she had some preordained right to do whatever she wanted, ask whatever she wanted, all else be damned. The only falter had been at the racetrack, when she'd thrown herself at him and pretended to kiss him—

Pretended, like hell.

There'd been nothing pretend about the way she'd greedily slanted her mouth against his.

To see her here, now, like this, rattled and unsteady, finally responding to his nearness, his touch, told him she wasn't as immune to him as she wanted him to think.

"Just relax," he murmured, loving the feel of her, the smell of her. "Just let it happen."

"My God." Her voice was low, hoarse. "That's him!"

Cain blinked and the scene changed, shattered. Renee wasn't mesmerized with desire. She was frozen in horror. And he knew.

"Who, honey?" he asked anyway. "Who do you see?"

Her eyes met his. "The man from the racetrack. The one who tried to shoot you."

"Does he know you've seen him?"

She shook her head. "I don't think so. He's just beyond the poker tables. He's on his mobile phone."

"Good girl." Slowly, he slid his hands up her back and tangled them in her hair. "Just follow my lead," he said, and dipped his face toward hers. Their mouths met and opened, slanted against each other. Deepening the kiss, he moved with her, walked her toward the slots as he scanned the casino—and saw the lanky man standing where she'd described, with the phone to his face.

Betrayal ran like ice through his blood.

Fighting the darkness, he urged Renee to safety and pulled back, took her face in his hands. "Get Gabe," he instructed. "Tell him what's going on."

"But—"

"Just do it," he said with a quick kiss to her forehead. Then he turned and went after the man he'd once trusted with his life.

CHAPTER TWELVE

"
Y
ou said there would be more time."

The softly spoken words lured Gabe closer. She stood with her back to him and a mobile phone to her ear, adjacent to a statue of the god Dionysius just beyond the entrance to the gaming room. A long leather jacket concealed much of her body, but he could tell her shoulders were rigid.

"I know," she said. "I'm trying."

Gabe told himself to turn and walk away, go back to Val. Evangeline Marceau was none of his concern. The district attorney's request to show her the ropes did not extend beyond the courthouse.

"Okay." Her voice was a little harder. A lot more resigned. "I understand," she said. "I—"

There wasn't time to move. She glanced over her shoulder so suddenly that Gabe didn't have a snowball's chance south of New Orleans of bluffing.

So he grinned.

"—have to go," Evangeline said, never stripping her gaze from Gabe's. She flipped the phone shut and slid it into the small purse hanging from her shoulder. "Gabe."

The way she said his name, low and throaty and more like an accusation than a greeting, socked him somewhere near the gut. She looked pale, he noted, a sweep of hair falling against eyes uncomfortably dark. It was a look he'd seen countless times before, from scared witnesses and distraught victims.

It was not a look he'd anticipated seeing form the cool, refined, confident A.D.A. he'd met earlier in the day.

"Are you okay?" The question shot out of him before he could pull it back.

Her mouth tumbled open for a brief heartbeat before she clamped it shut. "Of course."

But that was a lie, and he was pretty sure they both knew it. If he didn't know better, he'd swear she looked ready to bolt. "Look," he said, stepping closer and lowering his voice, "if something's wrong—"

If someone is trying to hurt you—

"Nothing's wrong." She smiled, widely and brilliantly, and his breath damn near jammed in his throat. But his attorney's instincts did not relax. At least he told himself they were his attorney's instincts.

The instincts of the man had no relevance with this woman.

"Just … stuff," she said breezily, and he could literally see the smoke screen forming, right before his eyes. Something was wrong. That he knew for a fact. He knew spooked when he saw it, and Evangeline was textbook.

He also knew he had no business pressing her further, despite the shady possibilities that automatically surged through him. One thing about being a prosecutor in a city like New Orleans.

Worst-case scenario became a way of life.

"If you're sure—" he started to say, and if possible, her smile widened.

"Are you here alone?" She put a hand to his arm. "I'd love to see if everything I've heard about—"

"Gabe!"

They twisted around simultaneously to see Renee Fox racing from the gaming area.

Val shoved at the fire exit and burst into the alley.

"Wait!" Renee darted through the door before it closed and absorbed the bite of the wind, felt the chill penetrate the leather of her jacket and soak into her blood.

Breathing hard, Val braced her hands against her knees, revealing a tear at the back of her tight dress. "Damn him."

The men had come this way, first Alec just seconds before Cain had reached him, then about ten seconds behind them, Gabe.

Now the alley stood dark and deserted, quiet save for a collection of newspapers and leaves twirling in a mini tornado.

Frustrated, Renee watched Val, resisting the urge to go to her friend and throw her arms around her. Despite the fact they'd once been close, she had to pretend to be nothing more than a polite stranger, ignoring the shopping escapades and lattes they'd once shared, the pedicures and the dreams. Back then they'd seen a different future than the one fate had delivered—a future of weddings and babies, play dates and joint family vacations.

"Try not to worry." The pain and fear in her friend's eyes made her wish she could promise her everything was going to be okay. "Cain can take care of himself."

Jerkily, Val pivoted toward her. "I've seen how the man takes care of things. That's what worries me."

Renee winced, the venom in Val's voice driving home the fact that while Renee's life had stood still, the lives of everyone she loved had moved on, and changed.

"Gabe's got a blind spot when it comes to his cousin," Val said, wrapping her arms around her middle. "Thinks he can do no wrong."

Renee stepped toward her. "And you disagree?"

Val shook her head. "I just don't know anymore." She looked up, her smile so brittle it could only come from a broken heart. "Have you ever felt like you're losing something precious, something that you love, but the tighter you hold on, the faster it slips away?"

The question pierced deeper than it should have. Renee looked at Val standing there in a torn dress and smeared makeup, and felt the ache weave around her heart, and tighten. "I have."

Val pushed back the hair that had fallen from her stylish twist. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I said that. It's just…" She stared down the alley a long moment before turning back to Renee. "Look, I know who you are, why you're here. And from the way you were looking at Cain earlier, I can tell you think he's some sort of fallen hero."

She was going to have to be more careful. "He's a complicated man."

Val surprised her by laughing. "You don't know the half of it," she said. "Don't get me wrong. I don't think he's evil. But I don't think he's a saint, either. All I know is that whenever people get tangled in his life, bad things happen."

"Like Savannah…"

"And Gabe, and me," Val went on. "If it weren't for Cain and what happened with the Trahans, we'd be married by now. Gabe would never have…" Her voice trailed off and she shook her head. "I suppose it doesn't matter anymore. What's done is done."

The breeze kept blowing in from the river, bringing with it a damp chill and the muted sounds of traffic and music, the razor sharp edge of realization—and resolve.

More lives had been shattered on that warm night eighteen months before than Renee had ever let herself realize. With a little luck, the truth would heal them all.

"Take the alley!" Cain instructed doing a quick sweep of the deserted street. "I'll take the warehouse."

"Got it." Gabe caught the .22 Cain tossed to him. "Be careful."

The words burned, but Cain nodded and ran toward the condemned building. They were talking about Alec, damn it.
Alec
. Cain should not have to be careful around the man who'd muscled Cain out of harm's way on more than one occasion.

But his cousin was right. Alec was no longer the man Cain used to know—the man who'd once broken down and cried about his inability to give his wife the one thing she wanted most. A baby.

The memory twisted through Cain as he ran. Alec Prejean, the cool, debonair detective who always had a smooth comeback, who unblinkingly walked the streets of the Ninth Ward, who'd somehow held it together when he'd pulled up to a crime scene only to discover his own brother in a pool of blood, had broken down behind an old warehouse and sobbed.

Cain had a lot of experience comforting women, but he hadn't had a clue how to comfort a man. In the end he'd squatted beside his partner and put a hand to his back. Somehow, that had been enough.

Neither of them had ever spoken of the incident. But now that man no longer existed. Alec had become the human equivalent of a crapshoot, and if Renee was right, he'd almost become an assassin.

Floorboards creaked as he climbed through a broken window and took in the gloom. The stench hit him immediately, the rancid combination of stale food and cigarette smoke and sex. He knew if he had a flashlight it would reveal other trophies littering the floor, leftovers from the all-night parties that attracted teens from parishes across southern Louisiana.

"Damn it, Alec!" he roared into the cavernous building. "What the hell are you doing?"

Movement to his right caught Cain's attention. He turned, the faint light oozing through the windows revealing a man in a doorway, and the semiautomatic in his hands. "God damn you, Cain."

Instinct kicked in, kicked hard. "Maybe," Cain conceded, "but what the hell has he done to you?"

Alec emerged from the shadows, revealing scraggly hair falling against his face and a scar at the corner of his eye. "You just don't know when to stop, do you?" he asked in a voice Cain instantly recognized, the one Alec used when closing in on a suspect, a low snarl that promised no mercy or reprieve. "You're so freaking
saison de pluie
to atone for your sins that you cannot see when to leave well enough alone. The world doesn't need another hero,
partenaire
, and neither do I."

"This isn't about playing hero," Cain said point-blank. "I think you know that."

"Allez vous faire voir,"
Alec hissed.

"I saw Tara last night." It was a cheap shot and Cain knew it. "She's worried about you."

Alec jabbed the gun toward Cain. "Stay away from her."

"Why?" His Glock waited under his sport coat, but instead of reaching for it, he dropped his arms and opened his palms, wagged his fingers in invitation. "She's dead to you, isn't that what you told her? Sounds to me like that makes her fair game." He let a slow smile curve his lips. "You never told me how pretty she looks when she—"

Alec moved so fast Cain barely had a second to brace himself. The impact of man to man sent him staggering into the steel-reinforced wall. "That's it," he taunted, deflecting a blow to his jaw and catching Alec's other wrist, holding the gun away from them both. "If you're so hot to take me out, I'm not going to let you do it like a—" he recoiled on a blow to his gut "—coward," he spat, with a hard open palm to Alec's nose.

Alec staggered, swiped the blood from his upper lip.

Cain snarled at the sight of his former partner standing there, blood on his face, gun dangling from his hand. "You're going to have to look me in the eye when you pull the trigger."