light.
"The scratches aren't as deep. I'll clean them, but they won't need a bandage." Checking the other ankle and finding that it only had one faint mark; he doused another ball of cotton with alcohol.
Schyler watched his capable left hand swab the scratches and bites on her ankles. She tried to think of what Ken had called these Cajuns who healed. She tried to think of anything except the intimacy of having her foot propped high on Cash Boudreaux's thigh and his face practically in her lap.
"You said I was lucky to get off this light," she said. "Has that dog attacked people before?"
"There was a kid, a few months back."
"A child? That dog attacked a child?"
"I don't know if it was that particular dog. Jigger's got pit bulls with just enough mongrel in them to make them meaner than junkyard dogs."
"What happened to make the dog attack the child?"
"They say the kid provoked it."
"Who said that?"
He shrugged uncaringly. "Everybody. Look, I don't have the details because it was none of my business."
"Some of that gossip that doesn't apply to you," she said snidely.
"That's right."
"What happened to the child?"
"He got okay, I guess. I didn't hear anything more about it after they took him to the hospital."
"He had to be hospitalized? And no one did anything?"
"About what?"
"About the dogs. Didn't Jigger have to pay a fine, anything like that?"
"It wasn't Jigger's fault. The kid was in the wrong place at the wrong time."
"It's Jigger's fault if the dog was running free."
"I guess you've got a point. Those dogs are mean sons of bitches. He trains them to be. They have to be mean to fight in the pit."
"The pit?"
He looked at her with derision and gave a dry, coughing laugh. "Haven't you ever heard of pit bull terrier fights?"
"Of course I've heard of them. They're illegal."
"So is spitting on the sidewalk in front of the courthouse, but that doesn't stop folks from doing it."
He had finished treating the wounds on her ankles and was restoring his supplies, including Monique's homemade, anesthetizing salve. Schyler shoved her skirt down over her knees. That didn't escape his attention.
Ignoring his lecherous smile, she said, "You mean that pit bull fights are held around here?"
"Have been for years."
"Jigger Flynn breeds dogs to kill and be killed?"
" Oui ."
"Well, somebody's got to put a stop to that."
Cash shook his head, obviously amused by the suggestion. "That wouldn't sit too well with Jigger. His pit bulls are one of his most lucrative sidelines. They aren't defeated in the pit too often."
"As soon as I get to Belle Terre, I'm calling the sheriff."
"I'd let it drop if I were you."
"But that animal could have killed me!"
Moving suddenly, Cash closed his fingers around her throat and drew her face closer to his. "You haven't been back very long, Miss Schyler. I'll save you the trouble of finding this out for yourself." He paused and stared deeply into her eyes. "Nothing in Laurent Parish has changed since you left. Maybe you've forgotten the first unwritten rule. If you don't like something, you look the other way. Saves you a lot of grief. Got that?"
Because she was concentrating so hard on his fingers touching her skin, it took her a moment to comprehend his warning. "I hear you, but I won't change my mind about this. I hate to think what would have happened if Flynn hadn't come along when he did and called the dog back to the truck."
"You'd've been chewed to pieces, and that would have been a damn shame, wouldn't it? 'Cause you look pretty damn good just like you are."
His thumb made a slow stroke along the base of her neck. When the pad of it swept over the rounded welt, he went back to investigate more closely. He rubbed it several times. "That mosquito got you, didn't it?"
Schyler felt herself quickly losing control of the situation. The intensity in his eyes was thrilling, but it made her uncomfortable. She liked die structure of his stern face and the sexy inflection of his
"The scratches aren't as deep. I'll clean them, but they won't need a bandage." Checking the other ankle and finding that it only had one faint mark; he doused another ball of cotton with alcohol.
Schyler watched his capable left hand swab the scratches and bites on her ankles. She tried to think of what Ken had called these Cajuns who healed. She tried to think of anything except the intimacy of having her foot propped high on Cash Boudreaux's thigh and his face practically in her lap.
"You said I was lucky to get off this light," she said. "Has that dog attacked people before?"
"There was a kid, a few months back."
"A child? That dog attacked a child?"
"I don't know if it was that particular dog. Jigger's got pit bulls with just enough mongrel in them to make them meaner than junkyard dogs."
"What happened to make the dog attack the child?"
"They say the kid provoked it."
"Who said that?"
He shrugged uncaringly. "Everybody. Look, I don't have the details because it was none of my business."
"Some of that gossip that doesn't apply to you," she said snidely.
"That's right."
"What happened to the child?"
"He got okay, I guess. I didn't hear anything more about it after they took him to the hospital."
"He had to be hospitalized? And no one did anything?"
"About what?"
"About the dogs. Didn't Jigger have to pay a fine, anything like that?"
"It wasn't Jigger's fault. The kid was in the wrong place at the wrong time."
"It's Jigger's fault if the dog was running free."
"I guess you've got a point. Those dogs are mean sons of bitches. He trains them to be. They have to be mean to fight in the pit."
"The pit?"
He looked at her with derision and gave a dry, coughing laugh. "Haven't you ever heard of pit bull terrier fights?"
"Of course I've heard of them. They're illegal."
"So is spitting on the sidewalk in front of the courthouse, but that doesn't stop folks from doing it."
He had finished treating the wounds on her ankles and was restoring his supplies, including Monique's homemade, anesthetizing salve. Schyler shoved her skirt down over her knees. That didn't escape his attention.
Ignoring his lecherous smile, she said, "You mean that pit bull fights are held around here?"
"Have been for years."
"Jigger Flynn breeds dogs to kill and be killed?"
" Oui ."
"Well, somebody's got to put a stop to that."
Cash shook his head, obviously amused by the suggestion. "That wouldn't sit too well with Jigger. His pit bulls are one of his most lucrative sidelines. They aren't defeated in the pit too often."
"As soon as I get to Belle Terre, I'm calling the sheriff."
"I'd let it drop if I were you."
"But that animal could have killed me!"
Moving suddenly, Cash closed his fingers around her throat and drew her face closer to his. "You haven't been back very long, Miss Schyler. I'll save you the trouble of finding this out for yourself." He paused and stared deeply into her eyes. "Nothing in Laurent Parish has changed since you left. Maybe you've forgotten the first unwritten rule. If you don't like something, you look the other way. Saves you a lot of grief. Got that?"
Because she was concentrating so hard on his fingers touching her skin, it took her a moment to comprehend his warning. "I hear you, but I won't change my mind about this. I hate to think what would have happened if Flynn hadn't come along when he did and called the dog back to the truck."
"You'd've been chewed to pieces, and that would have been a damn shame, wouldn't it? 'Cause you look pretty damn good just like you are."
His thumb made a slow stroke along the base of her neck. When the pad of it swept over the rounded welt, he went back to investigate more closely. He rubbed it several times. "That mosquito got you, didn't it?"
Schyler felt herself quickly losing control of the situation. The intensity in his eyes was thrilling, but it made her uncomfortable. She liked die structure of his stern face and the sexy inflection of his
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