Trouble in Mudbug (32 page)

Her hips began to buck and thrash around, but Luc held them in place, obviously not yet done with her. He slowed his pace, and Maryse panted, trying to get her breath back, and before she knew it, the heat at her center was building again. Just when she thought he would send her over the edge again, Luc stopped his assault and rose up. It was only then that Maryse realized he’d pushed down his jeans and she could see every perfect square inch of him.

Luc rolled on a condom, gathered her in his arms, then kissed her deeply. Holding her face in his hands, he entered her. She gasped as he filled her and gently bit the soft flesh of his neck. Luc groaned and increased his stroke both in speed and length. She dug her nails into his back, clinging to him like a drowning woman, as he entered her over and over, each stroke better than the last, until she felt the fire building to an inferno.

“Oh God, Luc,” she started, then couldn’t continue.

Luc held her tighter and drove deeper. As her body clutched around him, they moved together again and again until she climaxed, pushing him over the edge with her.

They clung to each other for a while, neither of them wanting to move. Then Luc moved back enough to lower his lips to her again. “You are the most incredible woman,” he whispered and kissed her again.

Maryse smiled as he finished the kiss. “I’d have to say that incredible thing works both ways. I don’t think I can move my legs.”

Luc laughed and drew her close to him again. “Then I guess we’ll just have to stay here until you can.”

Maryse lay her head on his shoulder and tried to concentrate on breathing. She was beginning to think she might actually recover when the alarm went off, shrieking with a high-pitched whine. Maryse jumped off the desk in a panic, scanning out the windows for movement, and certain that any minute, she was going to have a heart attack. But hey, at least it removed the necessity of finding something to say during that uncomfortable period following post-coital recovery.

Luc yanked on his pants, ran to his desk, and pulled a 9mm out of his top drawer. “Get down and stay down,” he ordered, then left the office through the back door.

Maryse sank down onto the floor and slid around behind the desk, dragging her clothes with her as she went. She wiggled around on the cold, hard tile to pull on her yoga pants and T-shirt, then peeked around the desk and snagged her tennis shoes. These days she never knew when running might be called for.

Ready for action, she peeked over the top of the desk looking for a weapon, but the two best options were a stapler and a letter opener. Both required a proximity to the killer that she wasn’t really interested in achieving, but unless she wanted to scotch tape the killer’s hands together and mark the event on the calendar, the stapler and letter opener were her best options. She grabbed the two items and slid back down behind the desk.

She listened intently for any sound of Luc, but the alarm was so loud it drowned out everything. What had tripped it? And more importantly, what did they have planned for her?

And what was Luc doing toting around a gun, especially something like a 9mm?

Sure, most people that worked on the bayou carried some form of protection. Maryse had a 12-gauge and the pistol with the rubber bullets, but a 9mm? There wasn’t anything in the bayou requiring that kind of rapid fire to stop. Even an alligator would back off a gunshot in a heartbeat.

Her mind flashed back to Luc’s actions when the alarm went off—the way he crept down the hall, pressed flat against the wall. And when he’d left out the back door, it had been weapon first, just like in the movies. Except she got the feeling Luc wasn’t imitating a movie when he’d left. It appeared to be a natural reaction from someone who had been through that same routine over and over again. Which made no sense at all for a zoologist.

But made all the sense in the world for a cop.

Chapter Fifteen

It was probably only five minutes before Maryse heard the back door creak open, but it felt like hours. She peered between the cracks of the desk and tried to see who had entered the office. She clutched her weapons and made the hasty decision that if the bad guy found her hiding place, she would stab him in the crotch with the letter opener, then staple his eyes. It was the best she could come up with.

When she heard Luc’s voice yelling from down the hall, she let out a huge sigh of relief. She crawled out from under the desk and had just achieved a standing position when Luc ran into the office.

“Are you all right?” he asked and did a hurried check of the room, gun still firmly gripped in his right hand.

“Was anyone out there?”

Luc frowned. “No. But they could have gotten away before I made it outside.”

Maryse nodded. “So what do you think happened?”

“I’m not sure, but I’m going to find out.” He pulled out his cell phone and pushed in a number.

Whoever was on the other end of the call must have been sitting with the phone already at hand because Luc spoke as soon as he finished dialing. “Did you get anything?” he asked.

Maryse stared at him for a moment. She’d assumed he was calling the police, but that question didn’t sound like anything you’d start with when calling 911.

Luc was quiet for a couple of seconds, then clenched his jaw. “I see,” he said, and flipped the phone shut.

“Who was that?” Maryse asked, almost afraid to know the answer.

Luc picked his gun up off the desk and shoved it in the waistband of his jeans, then strode to the front office window and peered between the blinds. “We’ve got to get out of here,” he said, ignoring her question.

“Why? Who did you call? What did they say? What’s going on, Luc?”

“Later,” Luc said, and opened the storage closet. On the top shelf sat computer and a monitor, flashing alternating pictures of each side of the outside of the office. Luc pulled a flash drive from the CPU and slid it into his jeans pocket.

Maryse stared at him in disbelief. “You had that recording? And couldn’t someone just steal the flash drive?”

“Wouldn’t do any good. There’s a satellite on the roof. It’s sending a feed to my buddy in New Orleans. That’s who I called. The flash drive only covers part of the building.”

Satellite feed? Monitored footage by remote in New Orleans? Maryse’s head started to spin. Something was very, very wrong here. That was an awful lot of energy and time, not to mention the cost, to spend on a woman Luc hadn’t even known the week before. “Luc, has someone broken in here before?”

Luc barely glanced at her and nodded, then looked out the window again. “The back door was unlocked the day after your truck wreck. I thought maybe you’d just forgotten to lock it, but then I clearly remembered checking it the night before. After your cabin blew up, I figured it couldn’t be a coincidence.”

Maryse blinked, trying to absorb everything, but it was like trying to take in
The Godfather
trilogy in a single sitting. “So what exactly did your buddy in New Orleans see when the alarm went off?”

Luc turned to face her, his expression grim, his jaw set in a hard line. “The suspect was behind the office. He was wearing a backpack and holding what looked like a spool of wire.”

“And he probably wasn’t hiking.” Maryse studied Luc’s face, certain there was more he wasn’t telling her—like maybe why a zoologist was using words like “suspect.”

Luc shook his head. “Not likely. He was probably about to rig another device like the one used on your cabin. Regardless, we need to get out of here and stay out until the week is over. This place is too remote. Not nearly enough escape routes.”

Maryse narrowed her gaze and stared Luc straight in the eyes. “And exactly how many escape options does a zoologist need?”

Luc’s expression went completely blank, and he looked away. “There’s something we need to talk about,” he finally said, “but it needs to wait. It wouldn’t take much to launch a fire bomb in here.”

Fire bomb? Launch?
Hell, her stapler wasn’t going to cover that one at all. “Fine. We’re leaving now, but as soon as we’re out of the parking lot, you’re going to start talking.”

Luc nodded and pulled the 9mm from his waistband. “Wait here a minute.” He opened the front door and peered out with the gun clutched up near his shoulders, ready to take aim and fire. Then he edged out the door. A couple of seconds passed before he stuck his head back in and motioned her beside him.

Given that Maryse was certain she wasn’t going to like whatever Luc was about to tell her in the car, the last place she wanted to be was close to him, but it was a better than running with her stapler. Barely. She slipped outside and waited while he locked the door, then crept behind him, practically glued to his hip. Luc was on high alert, scanning all directions for a sign of movement.

Or bomb setters.

Maryse tried to maintain her cool, but with every step she grew more and more anxious to get away from this isolated stretch of bayou. This was all Helena’s fault—her and her damned money. If this is what you got for mingling with “society,” when it was all over, Maryse was burying herself deep, deep in the bayou where only the mosquitoes could find her.

They were almost to the car when a nutria scurried out of the underbrush directly in front of them. Before her mind could even register the small, beaverlike creature, Maryse dropped the stapler and hauled ass to the car, beating Luc’s strides by a mile. She grabbed the door handle and yanked, thankful she didn’t have long nails to break, jumped inside, and scrunched down as far as possible on the floorboard. Luc jumped in a second later, started the car, and tore out of the parking lot like they were on fire.

Which lately could be a real possibility.

When the rattle from the floorboard went away, Maryse knew they’d reached the highway. She inched up from her fetal position and onto the seat, albeit somewhat slouched, but at least in a semi-sitting position.

“You all right?” Luc asked, the concern evident in his voice.

“Oh, just peachy. I’m getting so used to people trying to bump me off that tomorrow I probably won’t even run. In fact, I was just thinking I ought to wear my best dress every day to save the undertaker the time later on.”

Luc gave her a small smile. “You’re doing great, Maryse. Most people wouldn’t have made it this long without having a nervous breakdown.”

Maryse glared. “And what makes you think I haven’t? Do I seem remotely normal to you?”

“You’re completely out of your element. You’ve had a ton of physical and mental stress put on you in a very short time—not withstanding your new paranormal abilities.”

A gross understatement. “Yeah, out of my element. Sorta like a zoologist toting a nine like a character from
Law & Order
?”

A light flush crept up Luc’s face, and Maryse knew she was in for some very bad information. Luc stared out the windshield a few seconds before speaking. “I got involved with you because it was my job.”

“And that job is…and let’s just stop pretending the answer is zoology.”

“I’m a special agent for the DEQ.”

Maryse straightened up in her seat. This was definitely not the answer she’d expected. “You’re kidding me.”

Luc pulled his ID out of his pocket and passed it to Maryse. Son of a bitch. Special Agent Luc LeJeune. Maryse’s hands dropped into her lap seemingly of their own volition, like the badge was too heavy. “What in the world would the DEQ want with me? I’m the most boring person on Earth—or used to be anyway. What could I possibly be doing so wrong that it would bring a state investigation down on me?”

Luc shook his head. “It’s not you. At least it didn’t start out being you.”