Chapter Fifteen
It was probably only five minutes before Maryse heard the back door creak open, but it felt like hours. She peered between the cracks of the desk and tried to see who had entered the office. She clutched her weapons and made the hasty decision that if the bad guy found her hiding place, she would stab him in the crotch with the letter opener, then staple his eyes. It was the best she could come up with.
When she heard Luc’s voice yelling from down the hall, she let out a huge sigh of relief. She crawled out from under the desk and had just achieved a standing position when Luc ran into the office.
“Are you all right?” he asked and did a hurried check of the room, gun still firmly gripped in his right hand.
“Was anyone out there?”
Luc frowned. “No. But they could have gotten away before I made it outside.”
Maryse nodded. “So what do you think happened?”
“I’m not sure, but I’m going to find out.” He pulled out his cell phone and pushed in a number.
Whoever was on the other end of the call must have been sitting with the phone already at hand because Luc spoke as soon as he finished dialing. “Did you get anything?” he asked.
Maryse stared at him for a moment. She’d assumed he was calling the police, but that question didn’t sound like anything you’d start with when calling 911.
Luc was quiet for a couple of seconds, then clenched his jaw. “I see,” he said, and flipped the phone shut.
“Who was that?” Maryse asked, almost afraid to know the answer.
Luc picked his gun up off the desk and shoved it in the waistband of his jeans, then strode to the front office window and peered between the blinds. “We’ve got to get out of here,” he said, ignoring her question.
“Why? Who did you call? What did they say? What’s going on, Luc?”
“Later,” Luc said, and opened the storage closet. On the top shelf sat computer and a monitor, flashing alternating pictures of each side of the outside of the office. Luc pulled a flash drive from the CPU and slid it into his jeans pocket.
Maryse stared at him in disbelief. “You had that recording? And couldn’t someone just steal the flash drive?”
“Wouldn’t do any good. There’s a satellite on the roof. It’s sending a feed to my buddy in New Orleans. That’s who I called. The flash drive only covers part of the building.”
Satellite feed? Monitored footage by remote in New Orleans? Maryse’s head started to spin. Something was very, very wrong here. That was an awful lot of energy and time, not to mention the cost, to spend on a woman Luc hadn’t even known the week before. “Luc, has someone broken in here before?”
Luc barely glanced at her and nodded, then looked out the window again. “The back door was unlocked the day after your truck wreck. I thought maybe you’d just forgotten to lock it, but then I clearly remembered checking it the night before. After your cabin blew up, I figured it couldn’t be a coincidence.”
Maryse blinked, trying to absorb everything, but it was like trying to take in The Godfather trilogy in a single sitting. “So what exactly did your buddy in New Orleans see when the alarm went off?”
Luc turned to face her, his expression grim, his jaw set in a hard line. “The suspect was behind the office. He was wearing a backpack and holding what looked like a spool of wire.”
“And he probably wasn’t hiking.” Maryse studied Luc’s face, certain there was more he wasn’t telling her—like maybe why a zoologist was using words like “suspect.”
Luc shook his head. “Not likely. He was probably about to rig another device like the one used on your cabin. Regardless, we need to get out of here and stay out until the week is over. This place is too remote. Not nearly enough escape routes.”
Maryse narrowed her gaze and stared Luc straight in the eyes. “And exactly how many escape options does a zoologist need?”
Luc’s expression went completely blank, and he looked away. “There’s something we need to talk about,” he finally said, “but it needs to wait. It wouldn’t take much to launch a fire bomb in here.”
Fire bomb? Launch? Hell, her stapler wasn’t going to cover that one at all. “Fine. We’re leaving now, but as soon as we’re out of the parking lot, you’re going to start talking.”
Luc nodded and pulled the 9mm from his waistband. “Wait here a minute.” He opened the front door and peered out with the gun clutched up near his shoulders, ready to take aim and fire. Then he edged out the door. A couple of seconds passed before he stuck his head back in and motioned her beside him.
Given that Maryse was certain she wasn’t going to like whatever Luc was about to tell her in the car, the last place she wanted to be was close to him, but it was a better than running with her stapler. Barely. She slipped outside and waited while he locked the door, then crept behind him, practically glued to his hip. Luc was on high alert, scanning all directions for a sign of movement.
Or bomb setters.
Maryse tried to maintain her cool, but with every step she grew more and more anxious to get away from this isolated stretch of bayou. This was all Helena’s fault—her and her damned money. If this is what you got for mingling with “society,” when it was all over, Maryse was burying herself deep, deep in the bayou where only the mosquitoes could find her.
They were almost to the car when a nutria scurried out of the underbrush directly in front of them. Before her mind could even register the small, beaverlike creature, Maryse dropped the stapler and hauled ass to the car, beating Luc’s strides by a mile. She grabbed the door handle and yanked, thankful she didn’t have long nails to break, jumped inside, and scrunched down as far as possible on the floorboard. Luc jumped in a second later, started the car, and tore out of the parking lot like they were on fire.
Which lately could be a real possibility.
When the rattle from the floorboard went away, Maryse knew they’d reached the highway. She inched up from her fetal position and onto the seat, albeit somewhat slouched, but at least in a semi-sitting position.
“You all right?” Luc asked, the concern evident in his voice.
“Oh, just peachy. I’m getting so used to people trying to bump me off that tomorrow I probably won’t even run. In fact, I was just thinking I ought to wear my best dress every day to save the undertaker the time later on.”
Luc gave her a small smile. “You’re doing great, Maryse. Most people wouldn’t have made it this long without having a nervous breakdown.”
Maryse glared. “And what makes you think I haven’t? Do I seem remotely normal to you?”
“You’re completely out of your element. You’ve had a ton of physical and mental stress put on you in a very short time—not withstanding your new paranormal abilities.”
A gross understatement. “Yeah, out of my element. Sorta like a zoologist toting a nine like a character from Law & Order?”
A light flush crept up Luc’s face, and Maryse knew she was in for some very bad information. Luc stared out the windshield a few seconds before speaking. “I got involved with you because it was my job.”
“And that job is…and let’s just stop pretending the answer is zoology.”
“I’m a special agent for the DEQ.”
Maryse straightened up in her seat. This was definitely not the answer she’d expected. “You’re kidding me.”
Luc pulled his ID out of his pocket and passed it to Maryse. Son of a bitch. Special Agent Luc LeJeune. Maryse’s hands dropped into her lap seemingly of their own volition, like the badge was too heavy. “What in the world would the DEQ want with me? I’m the most boring person on Earth—or used to be anyway. What could I possibly be doing so wrong that it would bring a state investigation down on me?”
Luc shook his head. “It’s not you. At least it didn’t start out being you.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Maryse felt beads of sweat begin to form on her brow, frustration and confusion overwhelming her.
“The agency got a tip that a chemical company was dumping waste into the bayou. The informant claimed to be a resident of Mudbug, and on the surface, the information seemed to check out. Then the intel stopped—no more letters, no phone calls, and all attempts to locate this person failed. I was sent down here to find the informant and verify his claims. We’re under a bit of pressure from the EPA.”
“Oh my God! Is it toxic? Where is it?”
“We don’t even know for sure that the dumping is going on, much less what the waste is or where it is. There’s no reason to get excited just yet. If the dumping is going on, the site could be anywhere in the surrounding area, not necessarily in Mudbug.”
Maryse took a minute to process this information. “So you think someone is dumping toxic waste into the bayou somewhere, and you’re undercover to find the guy who tipped you off. Then why are you hooked up with me?”
Luc stared out the window again. “At first it was business. Then it got personal. I thought you’d figured that out.”
Personal? As in he liked her so he was trying to protect her? And business—what business? She wasn’t in any danger when Luc first arrived. “So you came down here to locate a mole and instead, you end up seeing ghosts and playing protector for me. Does that cover it?”
Luc nodded. “I guess so. I care about you, Maryse, and you don’t have the training or ability to deal with something like this. I was afraid something bad would happen if I didn’t help—am still afraid.”
He cared about her? He was spending an awful lot of time putting himself in danger. But the fact remained that he didn’t care enough to tell her the truth. Not until he was left with no other choice. “And what does your agency think of your extra-curricular activities?”
Luc frowned. “They’re not happy. They think I’ve drawn too much attention to myself and they’re afraid it will blow my cover.”
Maryse narrowed her eyes, certain that something in his story didn’t ring true—not exactly. How was Luc supposed to discover the informant when he’d been shut up in an office with her? “But you’re still here.”
“I couldn’t leave you this way.”
Bullshit. “Why not? You could lie to me this way.” Then a thought came to mind—a memory of Luc trying to read her notebook that day in her lab. “You thought I was the informant.”
“That was one possibility, yes.”
“And the other possibility?”
Luc looked out the window down the highway, a slight flush creeping up his neck. Maryse stared at him for a moment, then it hit her. “Oh, my God. You thought I was covering for the chemical company. Somehow hiding the evidence of the pollution.”
Luc jerked his head around to look at her. “No, I never thought that, even when the agency suggested it. I looked into your research because I thought you’d come across the source. I didn’t know what you were working on until Helena let the cat out of the bag.” He sighed. “I’m sorry, Maryse. I didn’t want to lie to you, but I couldn’t tell you the truth. Don’t you understand that?”
Maryse looked directly in his eyes. “All I understand is that every man I’ve been with has used me in one form or fashion, and you’ve turned out to be no different.”
He put one hand on her arm, but she brushed it off. “Don’t even bother. In fact, you can drop me off at the hotel and return to your high security office in the bayou. I won’t be needing your services any longer, Agent LeJeune.”
Maryse didn’t say a word as Luc drove the rest of the way back to the hotel, and Luc was obviously smart enough to know he wasn’t going to talk his way out of this one. But the longer she sat in silence, the angrier she became. What the hell had she been thinking? Not only had she allowed herself to be used by another lying asshole, she’d actually welcomed him with open arms—and legs. What was it about her that she couldn’t find an honest man to save her life?
Which was sort of an ironic question since apparently a dishonest man had done just that.
She stared out the window and held in the tears that threatened to fall. Damn it. Why did she always have to cry when she was mad? Just when she’d thought her life couldn’t get more screwed up than it already was, she had to go add insult to injury by sleeping with Luc.
And even worse—she’d enjoyed it.
No more men, she vowed, as Luc swung the car onto Main Street. Society might as well give her a wimple and start calling her “sister.”
They pulled into the hotel parking lot, and before Luc brought the car to a complete stop, Maryse jumped out, slamming the door behind her, and stalked into the hotel. She could hear the car idling behind her but forced herself to look straight ahead and never hesitate in her stride. When she reached the door to the hotel, she heard the engine rev as the car screeched out of the parking lot. She glanced down the street as she stepped into the hotel and saw the car round the corner to the highway.
Probably going to see his “buddy” in New Orleans. Another DEQ agent, she had to assume at this point. Maybe they were going to review the tapes and see if Luc recognized the man outside the office. And then a terrible, horrible thought hit her. Her eyes blurred, and she walked headfirst into the corner of the door.
Video tape! Satellite feed!
And she’d been having sex with Luc right there on the desk in the middle of the office.
Sex on her desk wasn’t exactly the way she’d always pictured herself on film. No, for her first foray onto camera, she’d had something a bit more dignified in mind, and something requiring a lot more clothes. Something like accepting the Nobel Prize for Medicine.