Chapter 2
Lissette held her head up, her shoulders back, and stared at the man in front of her. She braced for the derision and contempt so many others had shown her.
She knew who Xavier was on a surface level, having seen him around Bayou Mambaloa before and after her time in prison. She’d never interacted with him a few nights earlier.
That evening, she’d left the Annual Frog Leg Festival early and had been on her way to the Remedies and Roux shop where she’d left a potion steeping in its juices, intent on straining the liquid and pouring it into vials for sale the next day.
She’d finished her potion and had left the shop, heading for the marina where she’d left her pirogue.
Unbeknownst to her, one of her dissatisfied customers had followed her from the festival, waited for her to emerge from the shop and had accosted her, intent on personally informing her of his displeasure and demanding a full refund plus the amount incurred for his hospital care.
She’d given him strict instructions on how to use the remedy for low libido. Just a little would do the trick. He’d decided to take the entire bottle of the remedy at once. He’d ended up in the hospital with an erection that had lasted more than six hours.
When she’d refused to refund his purchase, he’d gotten nasty, called her horrible names and tried to force her back to the shop to get his money.
She’d managed to get loose and run out onto Main Street, straight into Xavier’s arms.
Her dissatisfied customer had left, rather than face one of the brawny men of the Brotherhood team.
That had been days before.
Tonight had been different. The men attacking her not only wanted her, but they’d wanted what was in her tote.
Her fists tightened as she thought about the bag she hadn’t been able to retrieve from the van.
She should have resisted Xavier and gone back to get it.
Inside the bag had been the reliquary, the box belonging to a long line of Gautier practitioners. She’d only received it that afternoon, along with a hasp from the lock that had been on the family tomb.
Now, she had nothing.
Damn. Damn. Damn.
Xavier shook his head. “Why are you the most hated person in Bayou Mambaloa?” Xavier asked softly, dragging Lissette back from her long line of thinking that had run through her thoughts in a flash of memories and images in less than two seconds.
“Look,” she said. “I’m tired and need to get home before midnight.”
“Or you’ll turn into a pumpkin?”
She snorted. “I’m not Cinderella. Far from it.”
“And I’m no Prince Charming.” He chuckled. “Far from it.” His eyes narrowed as he studied her forehead. “You’re bleeding.”
She raised a hand, touched a spot just below her hairline and winced. When she brought her hand down, she frowned. “So, it seems.”
“I’m taking you to the hospital.” Xavier cupped her elbow and turned her toward the truck.
Lissette pulled back. “No. I’m fine. It’s just a nick. I don’t need to go to a hospital.”
“You could have a concussion,” Xavier’s brow furrowed. “You can’t mess around with concussions or brain injuries.”
“I didn’t bang my head. It’s just a scratch.” She couldn’t go to the hospital and risk someone reporting the attack.
He stared at her for a long moment. “Well, we need to run by the sheriff’s department and let them know you were attacked and almost kidnapped.”
Lissette held up her hands. “No hospitals and no law enforcement. I’m going home now. Thanks for getting me out of that situation.” She turned away.
Before she could take a single step, his hand gripped her arm. “You really need to let the sheriff know what happened,” he said.
“The last thing she wanted was for anyone at the sheriff’s department to find out about the attack, especially one particular deputy. “No,” she said firmly.
“What if those jerks come back for you?”
“I’ll handle it,” she said quietly. “Now, just let it go and let me go.” Lissette pulled her arm from his grip. “I really have to be home before midnight.”
“You could have a concussion. Or those men could be back before you get home.”
“That’s my problem.” She shook her head. “I’m not your responsibility. So, step aside.”
Xavier released his grip on her arms. “I’m sorry I delayed you. At least let me make it up to you by taking you to your home. I would feel responsible if something bad happened to you.”
“Again,” she insisted, “I’m not your responsibility.”
“If you don’t let me take you, I’ll just follow,” he said with a crooked grin.
She matched his grin with a twisted one of her own. “I’m not responsible for your poor decisions.” With that comment, she turned and walked away, hurrying toward the marina.
“Damned woman,” Xavier muttered behind her. Footsteps crunched against loose gravel on the pavement behind her.
Xavier fell in step beside her and held out his hand. “Is this something that belongs to you?”
She stared down at the hasp that had been in the canvas tote. She took the item from him. When her fingers brushed across his palm, another jolt of electricity ripped through her.
She really needed to stay away from this man. And she would have—except he was following her. “Where did you get this?”
“I found it on the ground in the alley just now,” he said. “Is it important?”
“Maybe.” She tucked the hasp into her pocket. “Thanks.” Not willing to go into detail about the hasp or what she’d lost with the canvas tote, she struck out again for the marina, hoping Xavier wouldn’t follow this time.
He did.
“Where do you live?” he asked, catching up and matching her pace.
“With my grandmother,” she answered briefly. It was enough.
“You walk all the way in those shoes?” he cocked an eyebrow and tipped his head toward her stilettos.
“No,” she answered as she arrived at the marina. Out of the side of her eye, she waited for Xavier’s reaction. She wasn’t disappointed.
His forehead creased. “Does your grandmother live in a houseboat?”
Again, she gave a one-word answer. “No.” The clack of her heels on the wooden dock gave her a satisfying feeling.
The marina store was closed for the night, and no one stirred on the dock or in any of the boats moored there. When she stopped at the end of the jetty, she couldn’t help but let a smirk lift the corners of her lips.
“I don’t understand,” Xavier said. “Are you just messing with me?”
“Why would I? I don’t even know you.” She bent to untie the line tied around the post and tossed it over the side of the dock.
Xavier’s frown deepened. He leaned over the edge of the dock and stared down at the ancient pirogue at the bottom of a rickety wooden ladder. His eyes widened. “You’re not getting in that, are you?”
She lifted the hem of her skirt, pulled it tight and tied it in a knot, exposing a significant expanse of her legs from her ankles to a little above halfway up her thigh.
Let him think about that, she thought.
She had great legs and knew how to use them to get a man’s interest.
The man’s jaw tightened, his gaze drifting down to the bare skin she’d exposed. His Adam’s apple bobbed. He cleared his throat. “I thought you said you were going to your grandmother’s house.”
“I am,” she said as she sank onto the wooden seat, turned and yanked the pull cord back. The engine chugged and died.
Well, damn.
She let the cord recoil and pulled again.
This time, the engine chugged, sputtered and engaged.
With a triumphant smile at the man on the dock, she put the pirogue in reverse and backed away from Xavier and the marina. Once she was clear of the dock, she switched to forward, gripped the tiller handle, and made a wide turn, sending the little boat into the bayou.
As she slipped through the inky-black waters with only the starlight to guide her, she shot a glance over her shoulder at the man still standing on the dock.
“Too bad.” She sighed. “He might’ve been good in bed.”
Lissette shook her head and focused on finding her way to the island where her grandmother had lived longer than she could remember.
Having been away from men, except for the prison guards, for a year, she wasn’t interested in getting tangled up with one now, not when she had work to do.
And not just at the Remedies and Roux shop. If she ever wanted to belong in Bayou Mambaloa again, she had to prove to the inhabitants she wasn’t a total fuck-up. She wanted to do something that would make them see she’d changed.
And she never wanted to go back to prison.
As she approached the little island where Madame Gautier’s cottage perched, she slowed the pirogue and slid the craft alongside the weathered dock.
Several planks had been replaced at some point in the past, but though they weren’t as scruffy as the rest, they wore the dull gray patina of wood weathered by saltwater, storms and incessant humidity.
With her skirt still knotted, she easily climbed the ladder up onto the dock, tied the pirogue to a post and carried the hasp toward the cabin. Halfway across the yard, a shadowy specter shot out of the shadows beneath the trees and came to a fluttering stop a few feet from Lissette.
She swallowed a scream and stepped back, pressing a hand to her chest. When she realized it was just her grandmother’s one-eyed rooster, she let out a low chuckle.
“Ah, Napoleon, I see you’re taking island security seriously tonight.
Well done.” When she continued toward the house, the rooster fell in step beside her.
“It’s a good thing you’re not opposed to females of our species as much as you are males.”
She’d seen Napoleon attack one of her grandmother’s male customers who’d come calling in secrecy for a good luck talisman before he’d proposed to his sweetheart.
He’d hightailed it back to his boat and waited until the next day when the shop opened to get that talisman, secrecy be damned.
All had gone well with the proposal, even though word had spread and his sweetheart knew about his intentions before he’d picked her up that evening.
Gossip spread fast in a town as small as Bayou Mambaloa.