Wild by Eve Langlais Page B

recollection was nothing compared to the much more vivid memory of the giant tiger in her office who’d smashed down her office door and then licked her when she’d taken a break from crawling to escape. “What about the tiger?”
    â€œTiger? What tiger?” Brody uttered a small laugh. A false one.
    â€œThe one that helped me escape.”
    He averted his gaze. “Wow, you must have really inhaled a lot of that smoke. There was no tiger there.”
    â€œWhat about those guys? The ones who clocked me?” The ones he’d alluded to, and yet, by his own words, hadn’t he arrived after they’d left? How did he know about them? And what about the club? Was the fire contained?
    â€œThe bar?” She sat up. “Is it all right? Did someone call 911?”
    â€œThe fire was put out, and they think the building was saved, but the bar won’t be open for a while. The fire gutted the back end of it pretty good. We won’t know the true extent of the damage until the place cools down and the inspectors can get in to assess. They’ll need to check the structure to see if it’s safe to renovate.”
    â€œWas anyone hurt?”
    Brody didn’t immediately answer, using Garoux’s reappearance to stall. Lulu eagerly took the glass of water offered, the tall glass tumbler cool in her hands. The liquid was cold and refreshing as it slid down her burning throat. The water held a hint of mint and an almost medicinal aftertaste.
    Is Garoux trying to drug me? She forced herself to stop drinking to ask, “What’s in the water?”
    â€œNothing nefarious, I assure you. Simply a healing brew we keep on hand.”
    â€œOn account of he likes to yell a lot and give himself a sore throat.” Broderick’s mock whisper and accusation almost made her giggle—which was totally out of character. A fear it would send her into another coughing fit had her biting her tongue instead.
    What she did ask, again, was, “Did anyone get hurt in the fire?”
    â€œNot exactly.”
    â€œWhat’s that supposed to mean?”
    Broderick shot Garoux a look. Why would he look to the other man in the first place? Exactly how did they know each other, and why would Broderick bring her here? It occurred to her rapidly clearing brain that the pair seemed well acquainted. Well acquainted enough to share a secret. Her gut insisted there was something afoot here. Was Broderick working for Garoux? But in what capacity?
    What use could a mob lord have for an investigative accountant?
    What about bribing him to look the other way if he finds something?
    Was Broderick a criminal? She sure hoped not. Criminals belonged behind bars, not featured in her lusty fantasies.
    â€œNo one was technically hurt,” Broderick finally replied. “However, given your car was found in the club’s parking lot and that you haven’t checked in, for the moment, you’re presumed dead in the fire.”
    Now there was an unexpected answer. “I can’t be dead!”
    â€œCalm down, sweetheart. You won’t be dead for long. Once the fire investigators get into the building, they’ll soon realize there’s no body.”
    â€œOr even quicker than that, we can call someone and let them know I’m alive.”
    Again, Garoux and Broderick shared a look. “Or not.”
    â€œWhat do you mean, ‘not’?”
    A “bah!” sound emerged from Garoux. “Use your head, girl. Someone was out to kill you.”
    â€œWe can’t be sure of that. I wasn’t supposed to be there. Maybe their goal was to burn down the club, and I just happened to get in the way.”
    â€œPerhaps,” Garoux conceded. “In that case, why don’t you call the cops to let them know you’re okay and then go home? Give me a call in the morning if you’re still alive.”
    â€œWhat’s that supposed to mean?”
    Broderick