Ghostwalker 03 - Night Game

elbow to stare down into her eyes. He wanted to beg her to save them, but he could only do his best to convince her. “Don’ you want me, cher ?”

    She cupped the side of his face with her hand, her thumb sliding back and forth over his jaw in a small caress. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.” She rubbed the pad of her thumb over his lips. “Marriage ceremonies leave paper trails. You know that as well as I do. I believe Peter Whitney is alive. If I were to marry you he’d come after both of us.”

    “Lily married Rye and no one’s bothered them.”

    “Now that’s a real shocker. You’re just adding to my belief that Lily knows exactly what Whitney is up to.”

    “So maybe that wasn’t the best example. What about Nico and Dahlia? You can’t think they’re involved with Whitney.”

    She shook her head. “I can think a lot of things you don’t, Raoul. You know Nico, I don’t. For all I know he married Dahlia, and Whitney stays away because she’s right where he wants her to be.”

    He kissed her. He tasted his own desperation, his fading hope. He tasted bitterness. “Just let’s do this, Flame. We can go to a friend of mine, here in the bayou. Grand-mere and Wyatt can go with us. I won’t even tell my friends if you’d rather I didn’t. We’ll be low-key.”

    “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll stay with you until you have to go back.”

    Gator turned over onto his back, his fingertips pressed against his eyes. “And then, what?
    It’s over? You just walk away like nothing happened?”

    “I have cancer, Raoul.” She was grateful for the candlelight. It made it so much easier to say the simple truth. She wouldn’t be around all that long once it took hold.

    “Whitney put it in remission twice. We’ll go to a doctor.”

    “And I’ll be in the computer system for Whitney to find.” She sighed and reached for his hand. “Whitney manufactured his own variety of cancer that last time. He told me he did.
    If just any oncologist could put it in remission, why would I ever go back to him?”

    “Did you ever have it checked out to see if it was the truth?”

    “I hacked into his records. At that time, he probably let me, so who knows how accurate they were?”

    “Then let’s give it a shot.”

    She rolled onto her side. “Raoul, I love you. I know that I do, but I’m not signing your death warrant. I believe Peter Whitney is out there and that he’s looking for me. I will never, under any circumstances, go back there alive.”

    “Then we’ll go to Lily.”

    “They’re one and the same to me. It’s all right.”

    “It’s not all right, damn it.” Raoul closed his eyes briefly and made himself breathe.
    There was no reason to argue; she’d made up her mind and he knew he couldn’t change it.

    “Let’s just take this one day at a time. Who knows what will happen?” Flame suggested.

    “Yeah. You’re right.” His voice was husky, tears clogging his throat. She was giving him no choice.

    “I’d marry you in a heartbeat if things were different.”

    He forced a smile and sat up. “I want you to sleep tonight, so I’m going to make you some hot chocolate.” He stood up quickly before she could stop him. He took care to mask the emotion in his voice.

    “You don’t have to do that. I doubt if I’ll have any trouble sleeping.”

    “ Grand-mere makes this special blend and she gave me the recipe. I made it up for you already. It won’t take any time.” He hurried into the small kitchen area and hastily poured the chocolate from the thermos he’d brought. It was still hot and steam rose from the mug. From the kitchen cupboard he pulled a small vial of clear liquid and stood for a moment staring at it.

    “Are you having some too?”

    “Yes.” He closed his eyes briefly and then dumped the liquid quickly into the chocolate, stirred, and added a bit of whipped cream before filling a second mug with chocolate.

    “Here you go, cher . There’s nothing like it before bed.”

    Flame sat up and took the mug from him. The sheet slipped down exposing her breasts and he kept his eyes fixed on the bruises while she drank.

    “This is good. An old family recipe?”

    He nodded as he settled hack on the bed beside her. “She made it for us on special occasions.”

    “What kind of special occasions?” She loved his childhood stories. She could so easily picture him as a little boy with tousled curls.

    “If we managed