Night Game (GhostWalkers #3)(18)
Author: Christine Feehan

Wyatt laughed at him. “You’re soft, mon ami, can’t take the heat with all that fine living you been doing.”

“Fine living?” A slow grin spread over Ian’s face. He shook back his shock of red wavy hair. “Oh, I like that, Gator. We been living fine up there in Miss Lily’s big house.” He tipped half a bottle of beer down his throat. “You’re a good man, Wyatt, but you don’t know the half of it.”

Gator snorted derisively. “Don’ let the boy fool you, Ian. Wyatt’s been up to no good. He’s been doin’ noth but partying, fighting, and getting into trouble with the ladies. Grand-mere wrote me ‘bout the hell-raising you been up to, Wyatt, and me, I’ve come home to straighten you out.”

Wyatt winked at Ian. “Oh, I don’ think I have much to worry about anymore, big brother. I think Grand-mere has a new bee under her bonnet and it isn’t me in trouble this time! I phoned the boys and let them know you were about to tie the knot with some high-stepping voodoo queen. They were pleased for you.”

“You’re enjoying the hell out of this, aren’t you, Wyatt?” Gator asked.

“Absolutely I am,” He leaned on the pole again, pushing the pirogue closer to the pier. “For once in my life, I’m not the one Grand-mere Nonny is going to slap upside the head and it feels damned good.”

“I’m sure your grandmother will understand when you get around to telling her the truth,” Ian soothed.

Both Wyatt and Gator shook their heads simultaneously. “Once Grand-mere gets a notion, she never lets up,” Wyatt explained. “Gator’s gonna have to find him self a bride, willin’ or not.”

Gator replayed the feel of Flame’s soft body against his. She was so damned soft. And her eyes… Vivid. Green. A man could drown in her eyes. Maybe he might be more willing than he thought he was. He shook his head as if that might dislodge such an idiotic thought.

She’d looked at him almost desperately there at the end, when she was under his body, his fingers squeezing her trachea, the two of them head to head, dangerous and angry with each other. “I don’t know if I can.” He listened to the words replay in his head. There had been fear and honesty mixed together. She’d sounded so damned vulnerable he ached inside. Everything protective in him had risen up and reached out to her. She had been afraid of hurting his family. She hadn’t wanted to, but she’d been afraid she might.

Damn Whitney. Damn both Whitneys. He was home looking for a lost friend. Poor little Joy. Her parents weren’t rich and it was easier for the police to believe she’d taken off to the big city rather than to launch a full-scale investigation that might cost the taxpayers money. She was his priority, not Iris “Flame” Johnson. He didn’t give a damn what Lily said. He didn’t have to bring Flame back to a place that must have been hell for her. A place that would only have bad memories and…

“What the hell!” Wyatt crouched low and gripped the sides of the pirogue as it rocked unexpectedly.

Gator glanced up quickly, saw the churning water and met Ian’s gaze over the top of his brother’s head. He drew in a long, slow breath and let it out to calm his mounting temper. Ian raised an eyebrow at him and Gator shrugged it off. He needed to find his balance and maintain it at all times. He reached out and snagged an other cold bottle of beer from the ice chest and downed a third of it, the liquid giving him a measure of coolness in the heat.

“Any news on Joy, Wyatt?” he asked, suddenly.

Wyatt sighed. “Nothing. No one seems to have heard or seen a damn thing.”

Gator glanced up sharply at his tone, noting the shadows in Wyatt’s eyes, the somber face.

“You said you were putting out feelers about the boy she was seem’, talking to some of your friends.”

“James Parsons. About twenty-four, good-looking, at least all the girls say so. His daddy hobnobs with the politicians and knows just about anyone who is anyone. Rumor is, James brought Joy home for dinner and Daddy and Mommy objected. Said she wasn’t quite good enough for their circle of friends and he could sow his wild oats, but forget about anything permanent. From what her sister told me, it was said right in front of her and James didn’t put up a word of protest.”

“What an ass,” Ian said as he exchanged a quick glance with Gator. They both knew of the elder Parsons. He was head investigator in the DEA and was presently scrutinizing a local businessman for money laundering. They also knew he had a reputation for being a first-class snob.

“Joy’s brothers expressed their opinion in much harsher terms,” Wyatt said.

“After that kind of humiliation, maybe she did want to leave,” Gator ventured. “I’ll bet she didn’t date Parsons again.”

“No, but he kept comin’ ‘round,” Wyatt said. “Her oldest brother, Rene, beat the hell out of him, but it did no good.”

“Lily said the police questioned him and he appeared to be genuinely upset over Joy’s disappearance.”

“Her brothers and uncles think he had something to do with her disappearance. I don’t. I think he’s just afraid to stand up to his daddy. I think he was working up the courage to run off with her. Joy wasn’t the runaway kind. She wasn’t ashamed of her family and she wasn’t ashamed of the bayou. She’s smart and talented and when James Parsons didn’t stick up for her she told him to go to hell.” The edge to Wyatt’s voice became sharper.

“You know her long?” Ian asked Wyatt.

“I went to school with her. She was way out of my league.” Wyatt cast a sly glance at his brother. “Kinda like the little she-devil you played jump the broom with. A real looker and sassy as hell.”

“I didn’t think any girl was outa your league, Wyatt.” Gator paused in the act of taking another pull on his beer to eye his younger brother. “You like this girl?”

Wyatt shrugged. “She was nice. Always had a friendly smile in school. I hadn’t seen her in a couple of years other than at a distance, but, yeah, I liked her.”

“Did you ask Grand-mere Nonny to have me come home?” Gator asked shrewdly.

Wyatt shrugged a second time and busied himself tying up the pirogue to the dock, absently waving to several people as he did so. “I might have mentioned you could help. You always were like a bloodhound. You know things other people don’t. And you have connections, people who might get involved. There was a better chance that she could be found if you came home.”