Missing in Mudbug (Ghost-in-Law Mystery/Romance Series) (20 page)

He scanned the banks on each side of the boat, then looked up at the moon just as it slipped from behind a cloud. The moonlight swept across the swamp and his gaze followed it until he locked in on something in a channel to their right.
 

“There,” he said. “In the shadows of the bank.”

She squinted into the darkness, but all she could make out was the faint outline of cypress roots. “I don’t see anything.”

“He’s there. I can feel him.”

“Friend or foe?”

“His presence here isn’t good, but I have no way of knowing if that’s because of Colt and Jadyn.”

“Could be a poacher?”

Luc nodded. “Let’s start at the last camp on the channel and work our way back up. I’ll watch and see if our friend follows us.”

Maryse started the boat and glanced back as she pulled away. She still couldn’t see anyone but now she could feel him, watching them. But why?

It took another five minutes of fairly slow travel to reach the end of the channel. She scanned the banks along with Luc, ready to make a quick stop if they saw any sign of Colt’s boat. At the end of the channel, she turned the boat around, trying to contain her disappointment. Maybe it had been foolish to hope they’d find Colt and Jadyn on the first channel they searched, but she wasn’t about to apologize for being a fool.

As she swung the boat around close to the bank, Luc grabbed her arm and pointed. She cut the engine and picked up a spotlight, directing it at the pier Luc indicated. As the light hit the running lights of the sheriff’s boat, she sucked in a breath. Those lights were the only thing visible above the surface. The rest of the boat was sunken in the water and mud next to the pier.

She peered up toward the camp, unable to make out the structure in the inky black. “Do you think they’re inside?”

“The logical answer is yes. The real question is, are they alone?”

###

Jadyn felt the energy drain out of her. No boat meant no CB. Not only were they trapped, they had no way to call for help. She reached for the bandages, trying to hold on to a thread of optimism.

“I told Maryse what areas we were covering today,” she said. “She’ll send someone for us if we don’t return.” Assuming that Maryse herself had returned, but she could hardly share information gained through Helena with Colt. That was one worry she’d just have to keep to herself.

“Yeah. I went over our coverage area with Eugenia and Deputy Nelson. They will rally a search party when I don’t respond by radio. All we have to do is stay put until someone gets here.”

And hope the shooter doesn’t return and start a fire underneath them.

Jadyn pressed the bandage on his skin and nodded. “Hopefully, they’ll all get together and spread out, so it won’t take as long.”

“I’m sure they will. The citizens of Mudbug are well-versed in swamp searches. Of course, I’m usually the one organizing the search, not
being
searched for…”

“Something different. Gives others a chance to be in charge, right?” She pulled her gun from her holster and began to dismantle it. Colt felt the bandage, then pulled out his weapon and did the same.
 

“I figure we can lay the rounds out on a towel to dry,” he said. “We can use the tap water to rinse the guns. It’s rainwater, caught in a big tank out back. It’s not ideal, but it will do until we can get home and do a real cleaning job.”

They worked in silence, unloading the rounds from their magazines and rinsing their guns under the faucet. The gallon jug of drinking water they’d found was set aside for personal use, as Colt described the drinking quality of the tank water as less than desirable unless one liked stomach problems.
 

Once they were finished with the weapons, Jadyn glanced over at the kitchenette. “I’ll check the cabinets for something to eat.”

“Cold beans would be better than nothing. I’d also like to wash this mud off and let my clothes dry. Were there any blankets left?”

“No. We used them all on the windows, but I saw a couple sets of sheets in that storage bin where the blankets were. Probably better anyway, given the heat.”

He nodded. “Do you want to clean up first? I can do the food search.”

“Sure,” she said, trying to squelch the range of emotions running through her. She knew Colt was right—they needed to wash off the filthy mud and water, but the thought of sitting around with Colt all night, wearing nothing but a sheet, had her heart pounding.

“Here,” he said and handed her a penlight. “I found this in one of the kitchen drawers. It’s not a lot of light, but the bathroom is tiny, so it’s enough.”

She grabbed a towel and navy sheet from the storage bin, then headed to the bathroom. What in the world did it say about her that her heart beat equally strong imaging alone time with Colt as it did when she was being shot at? Was she really that afraid to admit just how attracted she was to the sexy sheriff? Or was she simply trying to avoid the humiliation of developing feelings for someone who didn’t feel the same way?

She closed the bathroom door and clicked on the penlight, placing it on the edge of the sink. Colt had undersold the bathroom as tiny. The room was so small there was barely room to move without bumping into something. She removed her filthy clothes, tossing them into the shower for a rinse along with her, then turned on the shower and stepped into the stream of water.
 

The water wasn’t icy, by any means, but for someone who liked her showers flesh-reddening hot, it made her grit her teeth. She hadn’t seen soap, so she grabbed a bottle of shampoo and used that to clean herself, figuring her clothes would benefit from the falling residue. She hurried through the process, both because she didn’t know how much water was in the tank and because she didn’t want to leave Colt without backup any longer than she had to, then turned off the shower and wrung out her wet clothes as well as she could manage.

Wrapping herself in the sheet in a way that she could trust the thin cloth to remain in place required flexibility gained from yoga and memories from a college toga party attended many years ago. She finally managed a one-shoulder design that while not fashionable was functional enough to move quickly if needed and with minimized risk of leaving her exposed. Satisfied that it wasn’t going to get any better, she grabbed her wet clothes and towel and went back into the main room.

Colt stood at the kitchenette counter and looked over at her with a grin. “I found cans of ravioli and a Coleman stove with propane. How does a hot ravioli dinner sound?”

Her stomach rumbled and she laughed. “Sounds like gourmet. Let me take over.”

He nodded and she took over watching the cans of ravioli as he grabbed his sheet and towel and headed into the bathroom. She stirred the ravioli, pulling the bottom pasta up to the top, her stomach clenching as the smell of tomato sauce wafted up at her.

His excitement over finding something decent to eat was called for, but she figured most of it was for her benefit. Colt knew they were in a bad situation and even a porterhouse steak wasn’t going to make things better. What bothered her most of all was the feeling of being trapped. She’d never been in a situation where she wasn’t able to simply walk away—except for while flying, but that wasn’t the same.

 
In Bart’s camp, she was cut off from all technology, basic utility services, food and clean water, and even the means to get back to civilization without the risk of being eaten or shot. It was disconcerting and had her on edge. Every creak of the camp or whistle of the wind had her drawing the blankets aside and peering out into the darkness, wondering if the shooter was still there, biding his time.

She sighed and stirred the ravioli once more. It was going to be a long, sleepless night.
 

The door to the bathroom opened and she looked over in surprise, not realizing how much time had passed since he’d left the room. Colt hadn’t bothered with fancy sheet dressing. Instead, he’d chosen to fold it in half and wrap it around his waist a couple of times. The result was exposure from the waist up and the top of his knees down.

But that wasn’t the only result.

Her pulse quickened and she sucked in a breath, then whipped back around to the counter, hoping he hadn’t seen her reaction. She’d already known Colt was an attractive man, and she’d thought his clothes did little to disguise his athletic build. But she couldn’t have been more wrong.

The man behind her was some sort of Greek god. T-shirts hadn’t hidden his broad shoulders and muscular chest, but they hadn’t held a clue about the rippled abs or the exquisitely defined back. Short of television, she’d never seen a more perfectly designed human, and she had no doubt that if the rest of the sheet were removed, his thighs and rear would be just as lovely.

She took another deep breath and slowly let it out, trying to regain control of her racing thoughts. This was no time to act like a love-struck schoolgirl. Hormones were a fine enough thing in the proper amount and place. This was neither.

“You hear anything while I showered?”

His voice sounded right behind her, and she chided herself for being so lost in thought that she hadn’t even heard him walk up.
 

“No,” she said and glanced over at him. “Nothing but normal things, anyway. Except…never mind.”

“Except what?”

“It’s just a stupid personal thing.”

He raised one eyebrow. “Now you have to tell me.”

“I don’t know,” she said as she looked down at the ravioli. “I guess it just seems that everything normal sounds kinda sinister, like Mother Nature is on high alert.”
 

She looked over and saw him staring at her, frowning.

“I’m not crazy,” she said.

He smiled. “I know you’re not, but what you’ve got is really good intuition. It’s a rare gift and a good one to have in law enforcement.”

“You’re saying you feel it too?”

He nodded. “It’s not as strong now as it was earlier, but I can still feel it—that niggling at the back of your neck that the threat is still out there.”

Jadyn grabbed a rag and removed the two cans from the stove and poured the contents into Styrofoam bowls. “Do you think we’re right?”

They grabbed the bowls and plastic forks and took a seat at kitchen table, both silent for a couple of minutes while they dug into their dinner.

“Yeah,” he said finally. “I think we’re right. When I first joined the police force and got feelings like this, I thought it was fear and inexperience that caused them. And every time I ignored the feeling, I came dangerously close to serious trouble, even death. That intuition is not something I ignore any longer, nor is it something I’m ashamed of, even when I’ve been called chicken by other officers for not walking into questionable situations.”

Jadyn nodded. “It’s a relief to know it happens to someone else. Someone who’s not crazy, that is.”

He grinned. “Who says I’m not crazy?”

She smiled, then thought about the shooter. Was he crazy or calculated? They presented different problems, but calculated was sometimes predictable if you could figure out what they were after. Crazy was a whole different story and a lot more dangerous. Suddenly, she remembered the sample Colt had cut from the couch and she straightened in her chair.

“Oh no,” she said. “The sample with the blood is ruined from our dip.”

“No big deal. I didn’t cut away the entire thing. I’ll just cut off another piece before we leave.”

She studied him while he devoured his ravioli. He said it so casually, as if they were having breakfast at the café and could walk out and to their homes at any minute. How did he get so calm, so centered? Was it his work on the New Orleans police force? Or just lots of experience in dangerous situations?
 

If that was the case, then Jadyn decided she’d rather remain jumpy. In her opinion, living the mess she was in now over and over again wasn’t worth the gain. She’d always known her job would hold some element of danger, but what she’d experienced so far hadn’t been on her radar and certainly hadn’t been taught in her college courses.
 

She picked the last of her ravioli from the bowl and washed it down with the remainder of her cup of water. “Dinner was great,” she said, “but I think you owe me something better for getting shot at.”

He grinned. “You owe me. I’m your employee, remember?”

“That’s right, then the dishes are all yours.”

He rose from the table, tossed the two empty bowls in the trash along with the plastic cups. “Any other duties you’d have me perform?”

Her pulse ticked up a notch and she hoped her thoughts weren’t conveyed on her face, because the first thing that came to mind was something she’d never ask an employee to do, even a sort of fake one.

“I guess that’s it,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant. “Should we do a watch schedule?”

He raised one eyebrow. “You planning on sleeping?”

She sighed. “No. I wouldn’t be able to manage a minute.”

“Then I suggest we retire to the living room.”

“One minute,” she said and retrieved another sheet from the storage bin. She tossed it over the couch, covering the entire piece of furniture.