Free Bayou Heat by Donna Kauffman

front.” Teague
     didn’t bat an eyelash.
    So why was Erin almost positive he was lying? Or not telling her the whole truth?
    But since when did he owe her whole truths? Especially as they applied to himself?
    And why was it those were precisely the truths she most wanted to know?
    Erin stepped back, out of his grasp. “I overheard a conversation tonight.” She was
     operating on pure instinct, not of a scientist but a woman.
    “Is that so?” He held her gaze steadily, the mask so complete she couldn’t read anything
     in his expression. “Is that how you research? Hide behind bushes and eavesdrop?”
    “Hardly. Belisaire has been more than generous,” she said, not allowing him to goad
     her off the subject. “Iwouldn’t return her goodwill by spying on her followers.”
    “What did you hear, Erin?”
    “Two men. Setting up a deal.”
    “What kind of deal?” Again, the same flat, emotionless tone. About as far away from
     the black sheep, heart-breaker, pool hall entrepreneur as he could get.
    Yet it wasn’t until now that she felt as if she was seeing the real man. Emotionless?
     Cold? Inviolable?
    Erin repressed the shiver that raced over her skin. On the surface, yes. But what
     she felt was heat. Intensity. A sharp focused energy that cut through everything else.
    And she somehow doubted he’d gotten all that from shooting eight ball with a bunch
     of drunks.
    Who are you really, Teague Comeaux?
    Gambler? Thief?
Bokor?
    Drug dealer?
    “What sort of deal, Erin?”
    She studied his eyes and found herself telling him the rest of it. “I’m not sure.
     I assume drugs or something else equally illegal. They were talking about boats and
     shipping times and U.S. Customs getting in the way.”
    Teague didn’t react. And yet the air between them suddenly sizzled with tension.
    “Tell me what they said.”
    It was the sudden softening of his tone that had the hair on her arms standing on
     end. This man was deadly.
    The question was, Who would his target be? The good guys?
    Or the bad?
    “Did you see either of them?”
    It was too late to stop now. “I saw one of them. A man, short, dark skinned, wearing
     white cotton pants.” She cut off his next words. “I know. That hardly narrows the
     field. But it’s the best I can do. I couldn’t see his face clearly enough even to
     guess his age. But I—”
    “He didn’t go back toward the house?”
    “No.” She pointed down the path she’d asked about earlier. “I guess he went to the
     boathouse.”
    Teague was silent for a moment, then he turned away, facing the way she’d come. “We’d
     better go. You have a lot of work to do later this morning, I imagine.”
    Erin felt like someone had just spun her hard on a merry-go-round. “Wait a minute.
     That’s it? End of interrogation?”
    “Well, it doesn’t sound like you heard or saw enough to do anything about it.”
    “I could still contact the parish police.”
    She didn’t realize she’d tossed that out as bait until he didn’t take it.
    “Fine. But I doubt they will do anything. There have been rumors of everything from
     drug running to white slavery rings being operated out of the swamps,
chèr
. Without any real evidence, your story wouldn’t make the top third of the pile.”
    “But I know what I heard, what I saw.”
    “And I happen to know that all those rumors aren’t rumors either.”
    “How is that?”
    He stepped closer, blocking out the night and all ofher surroundings. “I grew up in the swamps. I know firsthand how dangerous it is out
     here.” His accent deepened, all the more foreboding for the lazy way it sounded. “The
     gators out here aren’t all the four-legged variety.”
    Her heart began to pound in her ears. “I told you before, Comeaux. I can take care
     of myself.”
    “And for the most part,
ange
, I believe that. Truly I do.” He lifted a hand to her face, rubbed the side of his
     thumb down her cheek, the gesture meant to seduce rather than