Chapter 11
11
BIJOU
R utger’s voice pulls me from my thoughts. “If you tell me what Raul wants from you, I could help you while recovering my mark. It could be a win-win for both of us.”
I shake my head, and Rutger frowns, frustration etched in his face.
Doesn’t he understand? There are no win-wins for people like us. Otherwise, we’d be together.
Raul would never let that happen, though. I’m as much family property as the Blue Moon around my neck.
Returning my focus to the radio, I cycle through endless stations to distract myself. Finally, I settle on “Possession” by Sarah McLachlan.
“Do you really have to keep me handcuffed while the car’s moving? It’s not like I can go anywhere, and my arm’s getting tired.”
“Deal with it.”
“Asshole,” I hiss.
He chuckles.
I struggle with the MoonPie package. “Could you at least help me with this?”
“Use your damn teeth.”
Obscenities burn my tongue. But I shake my head, suppressing the urge to rage at him. Instead, I observe, “You’ve gotten grumpy over the years.”
He grunts.
Thirty-four. That’s how old Rutger is to my thirty-two. I don’t know how it’s possible. But somehow, he’s even more handsome than the twenty-seven-year-old version I fell for in New Orleans years ago. And he still has that moody, grave face that doesn’t hint at his thoughts.
Biting into the MoonPie plastic wrap unceremoniously, I manage to tear it open, retrieving the sandwich without dropping it. Taking a bite, I savor the fluffy sweetness, humming my satisfaction.
Maybe it’s the adrenaline of the night, the shock I’m still in, or the chance to piss him off. But I can’t help myself. I impetuously peck his stubbled cheek.
He jerks away.
The ridiculousness of the move lodges a deep throbbing ache in my chest. “You know, I remember when you would have begged me to do that…” I refer to my performances at the Diamond in New Orleans, where we first met. Back then, he couldn’t get enough of me, coming to see me nightly and working hard to convince me to give him a shot…
He scowls, ignoring me. Silence settles back in, but I’m tired of giving it a home. Especially when so much remains unsaid between us.
Banishing it away, I glibly observe, “It’s good, baby. Thank you.” I hum to the radio, watching Rutger grow more sullen and morose.
Suddenly, he shuts the music off, eyeing me. “Your brother has quite a bounty on his head. You know, the thing you get when you skip out on a million-dollar bond. I’m guessing he split New Orleans to get help from big sis. But then the rat stuck his head out of his hole, and now every fugitive recovery agent from here to the Atlantic is on his ass.”
I turn in my seat. “Are you certain Raul was at the Bow? Because I never saw him. Although stage visibility is iffy at best in there. It took me long enough to find you.”
He looks unconvinced. “I have a theory about that. Somehow, Raul must’ve realized we tailed his men from New Orleans. So, he asked you to keep an eye out for me.”
I shake my head. He has it so wrong, but how can I change his mind?
“How else would you see me? If you weren’t even looking for me?”
I don’t have the courage to admit I’ve spent the past five years looking for him. Instead, I excuse, “My eyes have always had a way of finding you in a room. Every. Damn. Time.” I whisper the last three words close to his ear, watching desire flush his face at the feel of my warm breath.
He frowns.
I smile.
His reaction lets me know he feels it, too. The crazy swirl of emotions and energy shuttling back and forth between us.
“I still don’t understand why Raul came out in the open at the Bow,” he thinks out loud, leveling his gaze on me.
I shrug, exhausted by the subject of my stupid-ass brother. “To intimidate me, maybe? Although he did a poor job, considering I never saw him.” I deliver the last sentence testily, tired of repeating myself, too.
“There’s something else I don’t understand.”
“Yes?” I ask.
“Why you warned me to leave when you made that scene at my table. You said if Raul saw us together…”
I shake my head.
He raises an eyebrow.
Explaining what happened between Raul and me to Rutger will undermine all of the sacrifices I’ve made to protect him. Instead, I measure my words. “You know Raul never liked you.”
“Understatement of the year,” he grumbles. “But if you didn’t think Raul was at the Bow, why warn me about him catching us together?”
I swallow hard. “My brother’s call made it clear he could show up anytime. And I knew it wouldn’t be good for him to find us together.”
“Who wouldn’t it be good for?”
I whisper, “Either of us.”
Rutger’s eyes narrow, and he stares ahead. Finally, he questions, “If you’re telling the truth about not seeing or talking to him for five years and refusing to help him when he called, why is he here now?”
I sigh. “Because of what I have. Something he’s wanted for ages.”