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  “Yeah. It’s kinda nice, isn’t it?”

  Her body was singing and zinging with sparks. “It is, in a way. In other ways, it’s not so great.”

  He looked puzzled. “How do you mean?”

  Evie sighed. “Geez, Matt, you aren’t that clueless. It was fun while we were kids. I adored you—and then it changed as I got older and realized what boys were for. But it didn’t change for you, and that set me up for a lot of angsty nights discussing you endlessly with my friends.”

  “You discussed me?” He looked puzzled and she wanted to pinch him. Men.

  “Of course. It’s what girls do. We like a boy and we obsess about it. About what he said, what he did, how he looked at us. Does he like us or not? Things like that. I wanted you to like me as a girl, not as a buddy. And you never did.”

  “I did.” Her heart did a little skip that it shouldn’t have so long after the fact. “But I tried not to. I didn’t want to mess up what we had.”

  “We didn’t have anything by then. You’d been ignoring me since I got breasts.”

  His gaze dropped to her chest and she automatically stuck a finger under his chin and tilted his head up again.

  His grin was not in the least apologetic. “Hey, you mentioned them. They are magnificent, by the way.”

  She refused to feel an ounce of pleasure over that comment. “I did indeed, but that wasn’t an invitation to ogle. Focus on my eyes, Girard.”

  “Such pretty eyes. So blue they’re almost purple.”

  Evie rolled said eyes. “Flattery? After all this time? Care to tell me what’s up?”

  His expression changed, growing quietly serious. “I wish I could.” He gave his head a little shake. “I’ve seen a lot of bad shit in this world, Evie. You’re soft and sweet and you smell good.”

  There was a lump in her throat. “It’s just perfume. You should smell me when I’ve been picking crabmeat out of shells all day. Or after a long shift on the line, standing over a hot grill—”

  “Evangeline.”

  Evie blinked up at him. “What?”

  “You gave me one dance. Do we have to talk about crabmeat and grills?”

  Heat slid into her cheeks. “No, I suppose not.”

  He slid his hands to her hips and pulled her tighter against him until she wanted to whimper. “Good. Because I want to remember this the next time I’m on an op.”

  Evie dropped her gaze from the heated intensity of his. They moved together silently for a few moments. And then she spoke. “I heard you got shot. Did you really?”

  “Yes.”

  Her eyes flew up again and her heart pounded. “Where?”

  “A flesh wound in the side, nothing life threatening. Hurt like hell though.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t understand how you ended up in the military. It’s not what I thought you’d do.”

  His eyes glittered. “And I always knew you’d do something with cooking.”

  She didn’t miss that he’d deflected her comment, but she smiled anyway. “How could you know that? It wasn’t like I ever cooked a meal for you when we were swinging from trees or sneaking up on Christina with crawdads.”

  “No, but you talked about food a lot. About the texture of cupcakes, the correct sweet-to-tart ratio of lemonade, and the heat index of your mama’s jambalaya. And then you went to work out at Charlie’s that summer before my senior year. I brought Jeanine Jackson on a date there, remember?”

  Evie had to stifle a groan. “God, how could I forget? I dumped a pitcher of sweet tea down her shirt. But that had nothing to do with cooking.”

  Matt laughed. “No, it sure didn’t. What did she say to you again?”

  “I think you bitch is about right. Or some variation of that phrase.”

  “No, I mean before that. Before you ‘tripped’ and lost control of the tea.”

  Evie sighed. “She gave me a dirty look and told me not to talk to her boyfriend if I wasn’t taking his order.”

  “Was that it?” His brows drew down as if he were thinking back. “I thought for sure it must have been something worse.”

  “I didn’t like her tone.”

  Matt snickered. “Sounds about right. You never did back down from a fight.”

  The song ended then and Evie took a step backward. Matt’s grip on her tightened, but then he let her go, his hands dropping to his sides. Evie swallowed. “Thanks for the dance. It was nice.”

  His gaze was so intense she wanted to look away, but she didn’t. “It doesn’t have to end here. I’m home for a few days. I want to see you again, Evie.”

  Her heart ricocheted around her chest. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  He shook his head. “You keep saying that to me, chère, but your eyes say something different.”

  She clasped her hands together and took a deep breath. “I’ve always been weak where you’re concerned. But too much time has passed and there’s too much drama when you’re involved. I’ve got enough going on in my life without adding you to the mix.”

  His expression sharpened. “Are you seeing someone?”

  She wished she could say yes, wished it were true just long enough to make him go away. And she didn’t, because she didn’t want him to go away.

  Geez, way to be strong, Evie.

  “It doesn’t matter. Besides, you’re leaving in a few days. What would be the point in spending any time together?”

  “I think you know the point.” His voice was a deep, sexy growl, and she felt an answering throb in her belly and her sex.

  Impulsively, she stepped forward and squeezed his hand while she gave him a peck on the cheek. He turned his head and their lips met, but the contact was too brief as she backed away again, her heart hammering in her throat and ears.

  “Goodbye, Matt.”

  Evie turned to go just as the lights in the pavilion snapped out. She stumbled to a halt as the crowd gasped. Scattered headlights illuminated the area, but not enough to see more than a few inches.

  A car backfired, and Evie nearly leapt out of her skin. Someone screamed, and then a chorus of screams erupted when the car backfired again. The crowd surged, knocking her off balance. A hand wrapped around her arm and tugged her up against a hard chest.

  “We have to get out of here.” It was Matt’s voice in her ear and she turned her head, prepared to ask him why—until the car backfired again and she realized what was really happening.

  That wasn’t a car. It was a gun.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  MATT STOOD IN THE DARKNESS with Evie pressed against his body and listened. She was soft and warm, but he had no time to enjoy the feel of her in his arms. Something was wrong. The power could go out, sure enough, but those had been gunshots in the aftermath.

  Probably just some drunken rednecks, but Matt never assumed. He didn’t even want to be thinking about work now, but his instincts had jolted into high gear the instant the lights went out. Too many years in HOT had made him into a military machine that kicked into action at the slightest hint of trouble.

  Someone might be playing, but they were playing dangerously, shooting a weapon in a crowded area. It was utterly dark—and then a couple of cars popped on their headlights, shining straight at the crowd. Matt swore. The lights weren’t helpful so much as blinding.

  The gun sounded again, and someone screamed. The crowd started to surge forward.

  “Come on.” He started to pull Evie toward the woods.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Away from the crowd.”

  “Shouldn’t we get to a car?”

  “We will. But right now, we need to go this way.”

  Out of habit, he’d assessed the area when he’d first arrived, and he’d kept a mental calculation of landmarks and cover the entire time he’d been here tonight. It was as natural to him as breathing, and just as necessary to his survival. Though his eyes hadn’t quite adjusted, he knew the parking lot was a couple hundred yards away even without the
headlights for reference.

  Too far across open ground to make a run for it, especially when the person on his six was a woman in high-heeled shoes.

  Matt reached instinctively for his military-issue nine mil before he remembered it wasn’t there. Damn thing was in a locker with all his other gear, far away at Fort Bragg.

  Hell, he didn’t even have a knife. He should have—every Southern man carried at least a pocketknife—but he didn’t. Colonel Mendez had told him to keep out of trouble, so he was keeping out. Besides, this was Rochambeau, not some third world shithole where the latest terrorist scumbag was hiding away.

  Yeah, sometimes a crazy Cajun got a little out of hand, which is what he suspected now. Didn’t mean it wasn’t dangerous though.

  Matt started moving again, getting farther from the pavilion. This time when he stopped, he drew Evie up close behind him.

  He could feel her trembling but he knew she’d never admit to being afraid. That had never been Evie’s style.

  “It’ll be okay.” He spoke over his shoulder. “Trust me.”

  He scanned the darkness, wishing he had his night-vision goggles. With NVGs, he’d be able to distinguish terrain, see movement. Find this jerk and take him down before anyone got hurt.

  But first he needed to get Evie somewhere safe, away from the shots. And then he would find this guy and kick the fucker’s ass for being so damn stupid. If the cops didn’t get here first.

  Behind them, the pavilion was in pandemonium. People yelled and screamed, surging toward their cars. Tables scraped against concrete. Bottles shattered. A woman wailed.

  A car turned then, the headlights sweeping across the grass. Straight toward their position.

  Matt tried to duck out of the path of the beam, but too late.

  The gun exploded again, closer and louder this time, and Matt jerked Evie to the ground.

  Evie hit the grass with an oomph. “What the—”

  Matt clamped his hand over her mouth, pressed his lips to her ear. “Shh.”

  Miraculously, she stilled. He could see her eyes in the darkness, see how wide and frightened they were. Part of that, he knew, was the way he was acting. But he didn’t know what was going on, and he wasn’t taking any chances.

  What he knew was this: someone was shooting a weapon, unsafely, in a crowd of people. And that someone had to be stopped.

  “Stay here.” He breathed the words more than said them.

  She gripped his arm. “I’d rather not,” she whispered. “I think we should go to your car, or I’ll see if I can find Julie and Steve.”

  Disbelief punched him in the gut. His team never argued when he gave an order. Maybe they should have. Maybe Jim and Marco would still be alive if they had.

  Matt shook off the doubt and despair that internal voice filled him with. He had no time for self-pity. “It’s too dangerous. Stay here while I get this guy.”

  “Let the police take care of it. I’m sure someone called them by now, but we can call again to be sure.” Her head dipped as she fumbled with the tiny purse slung across her body. “Just a sec—”

  Matt circled her wrist, stopping her. “I need to find him before someone gets hurt.” He left if they haven’t been hurt already unspoken. “I can’t do that if you won’t cooperate.”

  Her teeth fastened onto her lower lip as she considered it. “Wouldn’t it just be easier to call the police?”

  “No.”

  Her breath left her on an irritated sigh. “Fine, I’ll stay. But not for long, Matt. I don’t like this at all.”

  “If I’m not back in ten minutes, head into the trees. Call the cops if they aren’t here, and don’t stop until you reach the road.”

  Matt started to go, but then he stopped. Quickly, he dug his fingers into the soft earth, then smeared dirt across his face and down his arms, dimming the reflection his skin would make in the headlights. It wasn’t as good as greasepaint, but it would have to do.

  Evie squeezed his arm. “Be careful.”

  He would have laughed if he didn’t feel the urgency of finding this sonofabitch. Instead, he kissed her, a quick peck on the lips that surprised her if the way her eyes widened was any indication.

  “Please stay here,” he added. He was unaccustomed to asking, but she nodded. Then he started up the slope, belly-crawling inch by slow inch.

  He sent up a brief prayer that he didn’t crawl over a fire-ant mound. No Louisiana native could ever forget the sting of a fire ant, or the knowledge of what a nest of the nasty critters could do. Not a pleasant thought, though he reckoned the parish was pretty good about ant control in a public park.

  After he’d crawled about fifty feet, he stopped and dropped his head to the side to make sure Evie was where he’d left her—and his heart lodged in his throat.

  Fuck.

  Her face was a beacon, her skin reflecting the light from the parking lot even when it wasn’t pointed straight at her. He’d taken care of himself, but he hadn’t considered her.

  Idiot. She’d wound him up so tight he hadn’t been thinking straight. He should have rubbed dirt on her, whether she liked it or not. Jesus, he was losing his touch. Maybe it was a good thing the Army was thinking hard about his future. If he couldn’t get the most basic things right, how could he go back into the field and be in charge of a team? How could he risk losing anyone else because he screwed up?

  He signaled to Evie to put her head down and hoped like hell she understood what he meant. She dropped her head to her arms, but didn’t hide her face.

  Holy hell. He could go back, but that would waste valuable time. He resumed his crawl, listening for any movement close by. Soon, he reached a picnic table and pulled himself to a crouching position behind it. One glance back at Evie to make sure she was okay.

  There was a good hundred feet between them now but he had no trouble finding her. Her face shone, but she was safe.

  Then a movement to her left caught his eye. He stared, willing the shape to take form. When it did, his heart slammed into his chest. He’d never get there in time.

  *

  “You think Girard is so cool now?”

  Evie watched the hand holding the knife. It wasn’t pointed at her, but still. The gun, at least, was tucked away in his belt.

  “Jimmy, this isn’t funny. You need to stop it right now.”

  “I ain’t hurt nobody. I just want to talk to you.”

  “You were firing a gun,” she pointed out. “In the dark. How do you know you didn’t hurt anyone?”

  It was ninety damn degrees on a steamy Louisiana summer night and her teeth were chattering like she was standing in downtown Chicago, sans clothing, in the middle of January. It infuriated her to be so helpless, but she couldn’t stop the chattering no matter how hard she tried.

  She didn’t really think Jimmy wanted to hurt anyone. But he was just stupid enough and mean enough to do it anyway. He’d been one of the bullies back in high school, one of the guys who picked on those littler or stranger than he was.

  Her eyes had grown accustomed to the dark now, and she could see Jimmy blink as he considered her question. “I fired in the air,” he said after a minute. “Not at anyone.”

  Evie gritted her teeth. “Bullets come down again.” It happened all the time in those countries where people fired weapons in celebration. They aimed automatic rifles high in the air, and the bullets came down in the crowd. Sometimes, people got hurt.

  “I fired toward the lake.” He said it as if he were proud of that fact.

  “Why did you do it at all?”

  His jaw thrust out. “Did you know that Girard’s daddy bought him into the Rangers?” Jimmy spit on the ground. “I coulda been a soldier, but my knee blew out. Can’t pass the physical so they won’t let me in.”

  Evie wanted to choke him at that moment. This was about some pissing contest with Matt? “I’m sorry to hear it. I’m sure you’d have made a fine soldier.”

  “Damn straight.” He waved the knife
. “I got the jump on him, didn’t I?”

  Anger was a slow boil in her belly. “You sure did. Now can I please go?”

  “No.” His voice was hard and it sent another shiver down her spine.

  “You don’t want to hurt anyone, Jimmy. You don’t want to get in trouble with the law.”

  He snorted. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  “Then put the knife down.”

  He lifted the hunting knife in his hand. It was serrated and ugly, the kind of thing a guy used to stab deer or something. Hunting, thank heavens, was something she’d never had a taste for.

  Sure, she deboned chickens and cleaned fish and it didn’t make her queasy—not a good thing for a chef to be, after all—but hunting and cleaning big game was not her kind of thing.

  He slid the knife into the sheath at his side. He hadn’t been wearing that earlier, or she would have noticed it for sure. That meant he’d left the party, went to his truck, and got his weapons. And all for the purpose of… what? Getting one over on Matt? Getting even with her?

  “There. Satisfied?”

  Evie shifted on her feet. She wasn’t used to standing in heels and they were starting to hurt. It didn’t help that the ground was soft nearer the lake and the spikes kept sticking in the dirt.

  “Better, yes.”

  “You weren’t nice to me, Evie.” He spoke as if he were lecturing her on manners. “I got you a drink and everything, and you weren’t nice.”

  “I’m sorry.” It made her furious to say it, as if he hadn’t tried to feel her up, but she didn’t suppose now was a good time to point out his boorish behavior.

  “You can be nice to me now.” His voice was low, suggestive.

  Her stomach turned. “How’s that?”

  “You could kiss me.”

  Evie’s heart knocked against her ribs. Bile rose in her throat. She hadn’t been attracted to Jimmy before. The thought of kissing him now was absolutely abhorrent.

  “I don’t kiss on the first date.” She said it primly, aware of how ridiculous she sounded. “You’ll have to ask me out proper and keep your hands to yourself, and we’ll go from there.”

  Not that she’d go out with Jimmy Thibodeaux if hell froze over, but she’d sure like to get away from him now. She didn’t like being alone with him. She had no idea where Matt was, but she kept hoping he’d show up with a few other guys and kick Jimmy’s ass into next week.