him.
“What about my and Marie’s house?”
She glanced at him then gunned the Charger. “It’s gone. The house was under water and had to be torn down. Paul saw to that.”
A part of Remy had hoped maybe something from his life with Marie had survived. The house—their home. Gone.
“Hey, it’s not a total loss. You’ve still got the memories.”
Remy snorted. “Of being stabbed in my living room and watching my blood soak the rug while my wife was screaming for her life.” Or trying to eat his gun weeks later.
“Those aren’t the memories to hold onto.”
“Until Savard pays, they are.” He glowered at the windshield.
Vic humphed, turned the car onto North Rampart Street, and merged with traffic. “How long you think this will take before Jared catches on that you’re back?”
“Depends on how fast word spreads after I take down a goon or two of his.”
“I bet he’s told someone you’re alive.”
Remy shook his head. “Won’t risk it. He’s arrogant enough to believe I won’t make the first move.” His fingers slid through his hair. He’d let it grow out more, along with starting a beard to help mask his appearance. The scruff on his face itched. “I want him on edge.”
Silence hung between them until Vic pulled into a parking garage.
She grabbed a stub and waited for the arm to raise. “I’m still not easy about this. If word gets back to my lieutenant I’m involved . . . ” She drove the car forward.
“So drop me off and go home.”
She found a parking spot, and guided the Charger between a truck and an SUV. Turning off the engine, she twisted in her seat and grabbed his arm before Remy could exit. “I’ve risked my job and my neck more times than I can count trying to learn what happened to my parents. I just don’t know how things will explode once the noise starts on you.
Bon Dieu
, Remy, you’re supposed to be dead, lost in the flood waters.” Her fingers tightened, pressing the warmth of her hand through his shirtsleeve. “All I’m saying is be careful. What we’re going to do will go unnoticed for a little while. But eventually, someone is going to recognize you.”
Reaching around his body, he grasped her hand and squeezed. “Then let’s work as fast as we can.
Allons, mon amie.
”
Chapter Eight
Remy, with Vic at his side, entered the flow of foot traffic to Bourbon Street. Music—anything from jazz to pop to country—pulsed and throbbed into the street through open doors. People spilled out of the businesses, their voices raised in pleasure or drunkenness. His mouth watered as they passed a restaurant, the aroma of shrimp mingled with peppers and onions.
Mon Dieu
, he’d missed this.
Dallas was a great city. But it wasn’t New Orleans.
Vic bumped against him, jostled by a throng of intoxicated LSU kids. Steadying her, he kept his hand on her arm. Her bicep flexed under his touch. The feel of it sent tendrils of pleasure through his nerves and startled him. Snatching his hand away, he hooked his thumbs in his Levi’s pockets.
Vic leaned close to his ear. “One of them tried to cop a feel.”
He grunted and glanced over his shoulder. One of the men eyed them, holding his wrist. Remy chuckled and continued walking. “Creep learned his lesson,
mais oui
?”
With a tilt of her head, she grinned. “Boys will be boys.”
Mon Dieu
, she was sexy. The Vic in a patrol uniform that Remy remembered didn’t mesh with the woman who sauntered next to him now. He had to be a dead man not to notice the vibes coming off her. He couldn’t tell if she was putting on a show for their mission or for him. With the press of people around them, they were squeezed against each other. And at each encounter with Vic’s lean body, Remy’s blood thickened and slowed. She felt so much like Cody, strong and feminine, it made him long to hold the fiery redhead again.
A neon sign nabbed his attention, and he slowed his steps. Dread filled him. Entering a strip joint
“What about my and Marie’s house?”
She glanced at him then gunned the Charger. “It’s gone. The house was under water and had to be torn down. Paul saw to that.”
A part of Remy had hoped maybe something from his life with Marie had survived. The house—their home. Gone.
“Hey, it’s not a total loss. You’ve still got the memories.”
Remy snorted. “Of being stabbed in my living room and watching my blood soak the rug while my wife was screaming for her life.” Or trying to eat his gun weeks later.
“Those aren’t the memories to hold onto.”
“Until Savard pays, they are.” He glowered at the windshield.
Vic humphed, turned the car onto North Rampart Street, and merged with traffic. “How long you think this will take before Jared catches on that you’re back?”
“Depends on how fast word spreads after I take down a goon or two of his.”
“I bet he’s told someone you’re alive.”
Remy shook his head. “Won’t risk it. He’s arrogant enough to believe I won’t make the first move.” His fingers slid through his hair. He’d let it grow out more, along with starting a beard to help mask his appearance. The scruff on his face itched. “I want him on edge.”
Silence hung between them until Vic pulled into a parking garage.
She grabbed a stub and waited for the arm to raise. “I’m still not easy about this. If word gets back to my lieutenant I’m involved . . . ” She drove the car forward.
“So drop me off and go home.”
She found a parking spot, and guided the Charger between a truck and an SUV. Turning off the engine, she twisted in her seat and grabbed his arm before Remy could exit. “I’ve risked my job and my neck more times than I can count trying to learn what happened to my parents. I just don’t know how things will explode once the noise starts on you.
Bon Dieu
, Remy, you’re supposed to be dead, lost in the flood waters.” Her fingers tightened, pressing the warmth of her hand through his shirtsleeve. “All I’m saying is be careful. What we’re going to do will go unnoticed for a little while. But eventually, someone is going to recognize you.”
Reaching around his body, he grasped her hand and squeezed. “Then let’s work as fast as we can.
Allons, mon amie.
”
Chapter Eight
Remy, with Vic at his side, entered the flow of foot traffic to Bourbon Street. Music—anything from jazz to pop to country—pulsed and throbbed into the street through open doors. People spilled out of the businesses, their voices raised in pleasure or drunkenness. His mouth watered as they passed a restaurant, the aroma of shrimp mingled with peppers and onions.
Mon Dieu
, he’d missed this.
Dallas was a great city. But it wasn’t New Orleans.
Vic bumped against him, jostled by a throng of intoxicated LSU kids. Steadying her, he kept his hand on her arm. Her bicep flexed under his touch. The feel of it sent tendrils of pleasure through his nerves and startled him. Snatching his hand away, he hooked his thumbs in his Levi’s pockets.
Vic leaned close to his ear. “One of them tried to cop a feel.”
He grunted and glanced over his shoulder. One of the men eyed them, holding his wrist. Remy chuckled and continued walking. “Creep learned his lesson,
mais oui
?”
With a tilt of her head, she grinned. “Boys will be boys.”
Mon Dieu
, she was sexy. The Vic in a patrol uniform that Remy remembered didn’t mesh with the woman who sauntered next to him now. He had to be a dead man not to notice the vibes coming off her. He couldn’t tell if she was putting on a show for their mission or for him. With the press of people around them, they were squeezed against each other. And at each encounter with Vic’s lean body, Remy’s blood thickened and slowed. She felt so much like Cody, strong and feminine, it made him long to hold the fiery redhead again.
A neon sign nabbed his attention, and he slowed his steps. Dread filled him. Entering a strip joint
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