Ghostwalker 03 - Night Game

showed up,” Gator greeted, stepping back to allow her into the house.
    “I was getting worried about you.”

    “I had to take care of a little business. I’m not normally late.” Why had she said that?
    Flame nearly groaned aloud. She didn’t need to explain or apologize.

    She followed him into the kitchen. The room smelled of corn bread and jambalaya. A large pot on the stove simmered and a tea towel covered a plate of cookies. She couldn’t help inhaling the scent of freshly baked bread and cookies she couldn’t identify, but her mouth watered.

    Only then did she notice the house was strangely silent. Her muscles tensed with sudden suspicion. “Where is everyone?”

    Gator didn’t answer. His gaze drifted over her, almost as if he were drinking her in. The intensity of his perusal caused a strange reaction in her body, her heart doing funny little flips and her womb clenching tightly. Up close, in broad daylight, she found him unbelievably attractive. There was a quirk to his mouth and a hint of laughter she found as sexy as all get out. His fingertips brushed her face, feather-light, his touch so gentle she was nearly disarmed on the spot.

    “You’ve been doing recon.” She stood very still, holding her breath as he brushed at another spot on her chin. “You didn’t get this near my house.”

    “No. Someone was nosing around the houseboat. I thought it might be you, or a team sent by Whitney to assassinate me.”

    His eyes narrowed and his mouth hardened perceptibly. “Who was it?”

    She was inexplicably pleased with his reaction but forced herself to give a casual shrug.
    “You don’t want anyone stepping on your toes?”

    “Absolutely not. If anyone gets to do you in, believe me. honey, it’s going to be me after all the grief you’ve given me. Who was it?”

    She frowned. “I’m not sure. They didn’t look military or particularly skilled as fighters.
    Only one of them seemed competent in the bayou. The rest made too much noise. I didn’t recognize any of them.”

    “What did they want?”

    “I have no idea. I left them to a hot afternoon in the swamp. They’re sitting on Burrell’s little island and it’s going to be uncomfortably muggy. If they’re looking for me…”

    “Is it possible Saunders had homing devices in the briefcases?”

    She scowled at him. “I’m not an amateur. That was the first thing I checked for. In any case, the briefcases are at the bottom of the canal.”

    “I don’t like this.”

    “I didn’t like it much either,” she admitted. “On the other hand, they didn’t seem interested in the houseboat or the cars so more than likely they were trappers and had nothing to do with me.”

    “I’m coming home with you after you visit with Grand-mere Nonny to see what these bums are after.”

    “No one invited you,” she pointed out.

    “So invite me because I’m going home with you.”

    “Be still my heart. I feel absolutely faint. Your charm is just overwhelming me.”

    “Let me see your knife.”

    She rolled her eyes. “You’re obsessed.”

    He was, but not with her knife. “Stop stalling. Put the weapon on the table.”

    “Weapon?” Her eyebrow shot up. “Why would you think I only had one? I brought a freakin’ arsenal along just in case you wanted to go a round or two.” She leaned close so her breath was warm against his ear. “Does it turn you on?” She pulled a long knife from her boot and spun it in her hands, smirking a little at him. “Nice balance, but not the best for throwing.” She laid it on the table.

    It wasn’t the same blade she’d had the night before, but he was beginning to think he had a kinky streak because something was turning him on. “Just how good are you with that?”

    “I only carry it for show.” She reached behind her neck and withdrew a second blade. It was quite a bit smaller. “This is a great throwing knife. One of my favorites.” She placed the knife beside the larger one.

    It wasn’t the one she’d had strapped to her thigh the night before either. “Is that all you’ve got, cher ?” He quirked an eyebrow at her in challenge.

    “Course not. I knew you might have a couple of friends along, you know, just in case things got a little too hot for you to handle. I’m not afraid of you, but you do so hate being alone with me.” She withdrew a thin wire, placed it beside the knives and added three small throwing stars. Her belt yielded a small tool kit that