Lucky’s Lady

CHAPTER 18

THE POWERBOAT ROARED THROUGH THE SWAMP AT a speed that wouldn't have been prudent even in daylight. The water was an obstacle course of snags and deadheads and cypress knees that were hidden now by the high water level. Lucky opened the throttle a little more and eased the wheel right, then left to narrowly avoid hitting a log. He focused straight ahead, trying to channel all his energy into navigating the boat. He knew this swamp better than anyone. All he had to do was focus, visualize the path and react mentally a split second before he needed to react physically.

He had run out of Mouton's like a man with the devil at his heels, stopping at his pirogue only long enough to grab his gear bag before commandeering the craft he was piloting now. He wore his infrared glasses, which allowed him to make out something of his surroundings, but not enough considering the speed he was traveling. The 9mm Beretta was strapped to his shoulder. He would have liked to have his rifle, but it wasn't something he kept in the pirogue and there was no time to go get it.

He had known the instant the pieces had come together back at Mouton's that time was of the essence. What he'd found at Chanson du Terre had confirmed his worst fears. Odille had seen Serena leave the house and walk down the lane toward Arnaud's. The Arnaud girl had watched her walk off toward the bayou. At the end of the service lane along the bayou Serena's purse had been lying abandoned, a can of Mace not far away.

Willis and Perret had her. Lucky thought he had a good idea of where they would take her. Willis had a place where he kept his fighting cocks. It was supposed to be a secret hideout, so they would undoubtedly feel perfectly safe taking Serena there. They wouldn't count on Lucky knowing the place. They wouldn't count on him turning down the attentions of the blonde either. He would have the element of surprise. He only hoped he wouldn't be too late.

The thought of Willis and Perret with their hands on Serena filled his head with a red haze, and he had to make a conscious effort to pull back from the image. Rage was ready to consume him. He could feel it roaring at the edges of his control, ready to sweep in and obliterate all else. He had to keep it leashed. He wouldn't do Serena any good if he came tearing in like a wild animal.

He called on old skills and instincts, reached deep within himself for a sense of dead calm. This was a mission. He would get the boat through the swamp. He would find Willis and Perret. He would kill them for touching his woman.

His woman.

He was in love with Sherena Sheridan. He had been able to deny it before, but knowing Serena was in jeopardy put everything into perspective. What he felt for her went deeper than desire. It had from the first. That knowledge brought no comfort or joy to Lucky s heart. In fact, what it made him feel was bleak and desperate. He could offer her nothing. He was little more than a shell of man, just managing to get himself from one day to the next. How could he take on the responsibility of love, of a wife? He didn't want it, couldn't handle it. Love changed nothing.

He cursed it as he swung the wheel of the boat to dodge a cypress knee at the last second. The only thing this love was doing was distracting him from his task. If he wasn't careful, it would get both himself and Serena killed.

The bayou took a slow bend to the east, and Lucky throttled down, instantly cutting the roar of the motor. He would go on foot from here. Guiding the boat in along the bank as close as he could, he shut it off and stuffed the key in the pocket of his fatigue pants. He tied the boat to an overhanging willow branch and jumped to shore.

As silent as a stalking cougar he moved through the woods, his mind playing back fragments of other missions. For the briefest instant he could smell the rain forest, hear the distant sounds of guerrilla gunfire. He felt his mind start to slip, but he pulled it back with an effort. If ever there had been a time for him to hang on to his sanity, it was now. He pulled the Beretta from its holster and cradled its familiar weight in his hand as he made his way through the dense growth.

It was a warm, still night. The air was heavy with the scent of honeysuckle and mud. The songs of frogs and insects combined into one high-pitched hum that floated across the whole swamp. Lucky strained to catch other sounds, thinking Willis might have stationed Perret somewhere as a lookout, but all he heard was the normal range of rustlings and squawkings that filled the nights. There were no shouts, no screams.

The last thought raised a knot in Lucky's throat. Bon Dieu, he couldn't bear the idea of Serena suffering at the hands of men like Perret and Willis. They were little more than animals-cruel, cunning, base. They would enjoy terrifying her simply because that was their nature, but they would take added pleasure in hurting her because they knew she was his. They would make her pay for everything he'd done to thwart their poaching business.

For one excruciating second he had a clear picture in his mind of Serena tied down, her face twisted in pain, a scream tearing from her throat, tears streaming from her eyes. His vision blurred and he pressed the heels of his hands to his temples and forced back the image and the terrible rush of fear that accompanied it.

He would kill Shelby for this. The thought drifted like smoke around the dark edges of his mind. She had bought her own sisters death. Serena had been an inconvenience to her, just as his baby had been an inconvenience to her, nothing more than a stumbling block in the path of her goal. The idea brought a rush of hatred burning through him. He gritted his teeth and fought it under control. This was no time for emotion. He needed to pull himself into the eye of the storm, be calm, detached, focused.

He stopped and leaned back against the trunk of a tree for a moment, willing his body to relax. Taking a long deep breath, he cleared his mind of everything but cool white light.

Serena stumbled through the door of the cabin and fell across the dirty linoleum floor as Willis released her. The only light in the place came from behind the cracked yellow shade of an ancient black iron floor lamp in one corner. The room was filthy and smelled of mice and urine. A low green sofa squatted above the pitted linoleum floor with stuffing and springs sticking up through the cushions. A coffee table made from a heavily shellacked slab of wood sat in front of it. On the opposite side of the room stood a bed with a rusty iron headboard and footboard. There were no sheets, just a thin mattress covered with stained ticking.

Not the kind of place she had ever imagined staying in, let alone dying in, Serena thought as she struggled to her knees. Her gaze swept around the room automatically looking for an escape route. There was a back door, but it looked an awfully long way away as Willis stepped in front of her. He reached down and hauled her up off the floor by her sore arm and shoved her onto the bed.

«Make yourself comfortable, sweetheart,» he said, chuckling.

«Its kind of hard to be comfortable with my hands tied this way,» Serena said, blocking the pain as she pulled herself into a sitting position on the edge of the mattress. «You might as well untie me. I know when I'm beaten. I obviously can't get away from you.»

«That's right.» Willis bent over the coffee table, then turned to face her with a whiskey bottle in one hand and his revolver in the other. A smile of smug triumph twisted his mouth. «You can't get away. And with your hands tied, you can't get a hold of a gun either, and you can't scratch our eyes out while we have our little bit of fun. Nice try, Miz Sheridan, but no go. I like you just the way you are.»

He took a swig from the bottle, whiskey dribbling down his chin as he swaggered toward the bed. Serena watched him warily, trying to gauge his level of intoxication. He'd had several cans of beer on the way. He may have been drinking before that as well. If he drank enough, he might not be able to participate in the festivities, but there was still Perret to contend with.

He stood in the doorway with the shotgun in his hands, laughing nervously as he watched Willis advance on her. Serena was almost more afraid of him than she was of Willis. Willis was cruel and calculating, but Perret had a wild gleam in his eye when he looked at her that made her think he was teetering on the brink of a dangerous land of frenzy.

Willis sat down beside her, his thigh pressing against hers, his hip brushing her hip. He braced himself upright with the whiskey bottle against the mattress and leaned over into Serena's face. The smell of his breath and the sour scent of his body was enough to make her want to draw back, but she held her ground. As long as she kept her mind working and the fear at bay, she had a chance. The second she buckled under the weight of terror, she would be lost; they would be on her like wolves on a lamb.

«See, if I untied you,» Willis said, his mouth a scant inch above hers, «then you might just try to stop me from doing this.»

He brought the pistol up, and Serena's heart lodged in her throat as he drew the end of the barrel slowly along her jawline, down her throat, over her breastbone. He traced the lacy edge of her bra, the cold steel pressing into the flesh of her breast. A shudder passed through her from head to toe, and Willis smiled and chuckled.

«You like that, Lady Serena?» he asked, stroking the gun barrel across her nipple. «You'll like this even better.»

Serena breathed a sigh of relief as he set the.38 aside on the bed, but gasped in the next instant as he grabbed her by the hair and pulled her backward onto the mattress. He leaned over her, looking like something from a horror movie with his twisted smile and one eye swollen shut. Chuckling low in his throat, he raised the whiskey bottle over her. Serena tensed and squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the blow, but none came. Whiskey splashed onto her chest, soaking into the fabric of her bra and running in rivulets down her sides. The scent of it filled her nostrils.

Willis bent over her and took her nipple into his mouth, sucking hard at her through the wet silk. He jammed a knee between her thighs, forcing her legs to part and lowered himself onto her, grinding his erection against her.

Serena fought the tears that stung the backs of her eyes as the last of her hope was crushed beneath the weight of Gene Willis. She'd had her chance to escape, and she'd blown it. She wished they had simply killed her. She wished that the last thing she was to endure on this earth wasn't defilement and debasement. She didn't want to die with rape as her last memory.

Close your eyes and think of England. That was the line Victorian women had been schooled to remember in the face of sexual relations. Close your eyes and think of Lucky. The tears pressed harder for release as Willis sucked noisily at her breast and thrust himself against the apex of her thighs. Serena bit her lip until she tasted blood. Revulsion shuddered through her and rose in her throat to gag her. This was violence in one of its ugliest forms.

«Hey, who says you get her first?» Perret demanded, suddenly looming up behind Willis. His droopy eyes were narrowed and his mustache twitched as he worked his jaw angrily from side to side. The shotgun was still clutched loosely in his hands and his fingers twisted on the stock and barrel.

Willis raised his head from Serena's breast, but didn't deign to look at his partner. «I say I get her first,» he said, his tone low and dangerous.

Serena watched Perret with interest as his face flushed and his mouth moved back and forth as if he were working up the nerve to spit the words out. The feral gleam in his dark eyes intensified as his gaze fastened on her chest and the wet fabric that covered her breasts. «You said before, I'd get her.»

«The hell I did,» Willis grunted. He ground his hips against Serena's and began to lower his head again, dismissing the man behind him.

«You did!» Perret insisted. «You said I could have her first.»

«Looks to me like his promises don't mean very much,» Serena said. Her deflated hopes lifted a fraction. Her skill with minds and words was the only weapon she had. If she could turn the two men against each other, she might yet have a slim chance to live through this ordeal, and a slim chance was better than no chance at all.

Willis scowled at her. «You shut up.»

«Why should I listen to you?» she countered. «He's the one with the shotgun.»

«That's right,» Pou said militantly, his hand stroking up and down the barrel of the gun. «Me, I got the shotgun, Willis. Get off her. I wanna do her first.»

«Go to hell.»

«I can shoot you, you lyin' bastard!» He swung the barrel of the shotgun around as if he had every intention of making good on his threat, but instead of pulling the trigger, he jabbed the nose of the gun in Willis's back.

Willis swore through his teeth. «All right. Jesus, let me up.»

Perret stepped back and lowered the gun. Willis rose slowly, adjusting his jeans, glaring at the smaller man. In a quick move that belied his cumbersome size, he snatched the shotgun away by the barrel and swung the stock end at his partner like a baseball bat, narrowly missing Pou's head as he ducked back.

«You stupid coonass trash!» Willis shouted. «You can't even get her from the goddamn boat to the house without screwing up! You can damn well wait your turn!»

«You said I got her first!» Perret shouted back.

Serena watched them argue. They yelled back and forth, issuing threats and insults, all the while inching away from the bed and toward the other side of the room. Nothing stood between her and the front door. She could make another run for it. She doubted she would get away, but there was a chance. Perhaps they would shoot her instead of chasing after her, too, and that seemed infinitely preferable to suffering the kind of violation they had planned.

She leaned forward, bracing herself to make a running start. Willis turned suddenly and set the shotgun beside the door. He sent an angry glance Serena's way.

«All right, all right,» he snapped, waving his hands in Perret's face to shut him up. «We'll flip for first chance.»

He dug a quarter from his pocket and Perret snatched it away from him to make sure it wasn't two-headed. Willis grabbed it back and sent it into the air with a flick of his thumb.

Serena sprang from the bed and lunged for the door.

Perret wheeled toward her.

The quarter never landed.

The back door of the shack swung open. A shot exploded through the air and the coin vanished. Serena's heart leapt into her throat as she jerked around and saw Lucky standing there. He was danger personified in fatigue pants and a black T-shirt, mud smeared across his face and arms, a sleek black gun clutched in his hands.

Perret screamed as if he were seeing an appartition from hell. Whirling toward the door, he reached out for the shotgun propped against the wall. The gun in Lucky s hands bucked once and Pou screamed again as a bullet tore into his shoulder. He fell headfirst through the screen door and landed sprawled on the steps whimpering and crying.

Willis lunged for Serena, one brawny arm catching her around the neck. The momentum of his body carried her backward and to the floor, and they landed against the side of the bed, sending it skidding sideways. The.38 was in his hand and swinging in Lucky s direction before Serena could blink. Acting on adrenaline and instinct, she shoved backward with all her might, throwing Willis off balance. His shot went into the ceiling, sending down a rain of disintegrated Sheetrock.

Serena twisted out of his grasp and hurled herself toward the door, scrambling to get up from her knees. Her ears were ringing from the deafening sound of the shots and the pulse roaring in her veins. She didn't hear Willis behind her, but she felt his meaty hand close on her ankle and yank her leg out from under her. As she fell she turned her shoulders and saw Willis coming down toward her, the gun pointed at her head.

Everything went into slow motion then, time stretching out with its weird elasticity. The gun bore down on her, and behind it Willis's face, ugly and distorted with rage. His mouth opened as he shouted something at her she couldn't hear. Then Lucky flew in out of nowhere. He hit Willis like a freight train and they both went sprawling across the pitted linoleum, Willis's gun flying out of his hand and spinning across the floor like a top.

Lucky hauled Willis up off the floor by his shirt-front and slammed him back against the wall of the cabin. He had dropped his own gun and pulled his knife, pressing the deadly edge of the blade to the man's throat.

Willis's whole body trembled visibly. His face turned gray, and sweat popped out on his forehead and ran down his face like water on the waxy skin of a pumpkin. In a harsh whisper he invoked the names of various members of the holy family as he stared bug-eyed into the face of death.

«Oh, I wouldn't be callin' on them, cher,» Lucky said, chuckling softly. A frightening smile lit his panther's eyes and curled the corners of his lips. He caressed Willis's throat with the blade of the knife. «Me, I got a feelin' you're not exactly on the A list up there.»

Willis swallowed convulsively, his Adams apple scraping the razor edge of the knife. «Jesus, Doucet,» he whispered frantically. «I'm not armed. This is murder.»

Lucky's eyes were cold and bright. «You think I care? There isn't gonna be enough of you left for anyone to prove it. You touched my woman, Willis. I'm gonna kill you. I just wish I could take my time doin' it.»

«Lucky.» Serena's voice floated to him from across the room. Tremulous and soft, it barely penetrated the edge of his consciousness, like a voice from another dimension. «Lucky, don't do it.»

He glanced at her as she came into the periphery of his vision. There were scratches all over her face and neck. Her blouse was torn and dirty and hung open down the front. There was a bloody cut at the corner of her mouth and her lower lip was swollen. Her eyes, her beautiful, soft doe eyes were filled with terror and pain. The maelstrom of his fury surged through Lucky with renewed force.

«He did this to you,» he snarled through his teeth.

Serena said nothing, terrified that her answer would push him over the edge. She could see a part of him fighting to keep the wild rage at bay. The rage flashed in his eyes and rippled in his muscles; his whole body was rigid with it.

He turned back to Willis. «I'll see you in hell, Willis,» he whispered, his voice silky-soft. «But you're gonna get there a long way ahead of me.»

He let the knife bite into the man's skin. Several drops of blood beaded on the blade and ran down it to drip like teardrops onto Willis's shirt. Willis's mouth trembled as he let out a pitiful whimper.

Lucky stared at the blood as the scent of it filled his nostrils. Images whirled in his mind-Colonel Lambert, Amalinda Roca, Shelby. He saw each of their faces in the bright red drops, their eyes wild, mouths laughing. He saw fragmented pictures from his past-other enemies, other battles, other deaths. He felt the cold black ooze seeping in around the edges of his mind, threatening to wash in on him like a wave and sweep him away forever. His hand tightened on the hilt of the knife. Willis sucked in a breath.

Then Serena's voice came again, like a siren's call. «Lucky, no. Leave him for the sheriff. He isn't worth it.» She stepped closer, looking up at him with her battered face, tears swimming in her eyes. «Please, Lucky,» she whispered. «I need you. I love you.»

«He hurt you,» he said, enunciating each word with painful deliberation. He kept his eyes on the knife. The storm raged inside him, pulling at him, tearing at him, and the blackness swirled at the edge of his mind like blood. «He hurt you.»

«Not as much as this will.»

The knife bit a little deeper. Willis made a strangled sound in his throat. Blood trickled across the blade. Lucky stared at it, fascinated, horrified. The blackness swept in a little closer, dimming his vision.

He was tired of fighting it. It would be so much easier for everyone if he just let it take him once and for all.

Serena's voice came to him again, so softly it was as if she had somehow spoken the words inside his head. «I'm safe, Lucky. You saved me, now save yourself. Don't do this.»

A part of him wanted to let the knife go deeper. In his mind's eye he could see the blood flowing, swirling up to drown him, just like in his nightmare. It would wash over him and then he would be gone, no more battles to fight, no more betrayals to endure, no more love to forsake. His hand trembled on the hilt. He could feel his control bending, bowing under the weight.

«Hang on,» Serena whispered. «Please hang on, Lucky.»

She stared at him, tears streaming down her face, afraid that if she blinked she would lose him. She could feel the tension vibrating around him. His fierce gaze was on Willis, but she didn't think Willis was what he was seeing. The expression in his eyes was something that came from looking inward and seeing the things one feared most. The most deadly struggle going on in the room was the one Lucky was waging with himself, and if he lost it, Serena had the terrible feeling he would be lost forever. A part of her would not have mourned for a second if Gene Willis had met his end, but revenge was nowhere near worth the price it was going to cost her.

«Hang on, Lucky,» she said again, drawing on some deep reservoir inside her for calm. «You can beat it.»

«I'm tired,» he whispered, his eyes bleak and afraid as he looked through the face of Willis.

«I know,» Serena said, taking another half step toward him. «I know you're tired, but you're stronger than you know. You're better than you know. You can beat it for good. Pull back from that edge. Please, Lucky, for me, for your family, for yourself. Pull back. You can do it. I know you can.»

Lucky stared at the blade of the knife, at the blood dribbling across it. He could feel himself teetering on the precipice, the ground crumbling beneath his boots. The abyss of madness beckoned, but on the other side Serena lured him back with strong; soft words, with the love he wasted so desperately to hang on to, the love he knew he could never keep. The pressures of the conflict built within him like steam until he was shaking from the force of it, as if he might explode at any second, and it kept building and building.

With a great roar of anguish he pulled the knife back and plunged it into the wall beside Willis's head. He pushed himself away from his captive and Willis crumpled to the dirty floor in a dead faint.

Lucky stepped back, swaying unsteadily on his feet as the darkness rushed to the outer boundaries of his mind and vanished in a blinding flash of light. He turned toward Serena, feeling strangely weak and disoriented, as if some vital electrical force had been suddenly drained from his body.

Serena tried to smile at him through the rain of tears streaming down her face. «I've never been so glad to see anyone in my life,» she whispered.

Lucky drank in the sight of her, feeling her every cut and bruise as if it were his own. He wanted to heal her. He wanted to take her back in time and protect her from this nightmare and prevent her from witnessing what she had just witnessed. He wanted a lot of things at that moment-to be stronger, to be whole, to be the kind of man who could have had a future with a woman like Serena-but he contented himself with knowing she was alive and safe, and he pulled her into his arms to prove it to himself.

«Merci Dieu,» he whispered, burying his lips in her hair. His whole body was trembling from the internal battle he had just been through. His breath came in shallow gasps. Tears squeezed through the barrier of his lashes. He tightened his arms around Serena as if he were trying to absorb her into his being. «Je t'aime. Je t'aime, ma douce amie.»

I love you. Serena pressed her cheek to his chest and cried with a mixture of joy and relief and belated fear. Lucky loved her. She was safe. He was safe. They would have a chance at tomorrow together. But there was so much more left to face and so many feelings still to be dealt with, not the least of which were her feelings about what she had experienced tonight. They rushed to the fore now that she was in the shelter of Lucky s arms.

«I've never been so afraid,» she mumbled against his chest as the tears came harder.

«I know. I know, mon cherie. It's all right now. Everything's all right. You're safe.» He pressed fervent kisses to her temple, her cheek, her lips, trembling at the sweet taste of her. He couldn't get enough of just touching her, holding her, breathing in the faint scent of her perfume. With one shaking hand he began to carefully brush the leaves and twigs from her hair.

«Lucky?'

«Oui.»

«I really like having you hold me,» Serena said, twisting a little in his iron grasp, «but do you think you could untie me first? I'd kind of like to hold you too.»

Lucky pulled back abruptly, swearing in French. He turned Serena around and dealt with the cord that bound her hands. She almost cried at the pain as feeling came rushing back into her fingers and her shoulders were allowed to sag forward, but decided she was too glad to be alive to cry about it.

They dealt with Willis and Perret quickly. Lucky dragged Pou back inside and grumbled while Serena did a cursory first aid job on the man's bullet wound. Then he bound both men hand and foot and tied them each to a bedpost.

«Let's get out of here,» he said when the task was accomplished and the two thugs sat on the floor glaring up at him. «I'll bring the sheriff back later for these two.»

Serena nodded. Now that the danger had passed, she was feeling the effects of what she had been through. She ached all over and felt vaguely dizzy and rubber-legged. Lucky seemed to sense her fatigue and without a word swept her up in his arms. With long, purposeful strides he carried her away from the shack and into the woods.

He wound his way through the tangle of dark forest silently, surely. Serena put her arms around his neck and laid her head against his shoulder, marveling at the sense of safety she felt with him in this place she had feared for so long. But gradually the feeling of safety gave way to a subtle foreboding.

Lucky hadn't spoken a word since leaving the cabin. Serena thought she could actually feel him withdrawing from her. He might have, in a moment of intense emotion, told her he loved her, but she had the terrible feeling that love was something Lucky was more likely to shy away from than embrace. He had told her before that he didn't want her love, that he didn't have anything left inside him to give her. The discovery that he was capable of feeling would not be welcome to a man who had sentenced himself to emotional exile.

She sighed wearily at the thought that while the battle for her life was over and won, the battle for her heart was a long way from being over.

«Hey, it's a real boat,» she said in a weak attempt at levity as they emerged from the woods at the edge of the bayou and she saw the powerboat sitting in the black water. «It's got a motor and everything.»

Lucky eased her over the side and set her on her feet, then frowned as he pulled himself into the boat and dug the keys out of his pocket. «They have their uses,» he said shortly.

«Yes, they do. Be sure and thank the owner on my behalf for loaning it to you.»

«Can't.»

«Why not?»

«'Cause I stole it.»

«You what?» Serena clamped her mouth shut and sank down into one of the passenger seats, feeling giddy at the idea that Lucky would commit a felony on her behalf. It had definitely been too long a day. She needed to go to bed and sleep for a year. Unfortunately, there was no time for that.

«How did you know they had me?» she asked, wrapping her arms around herself to ward off the chills that were beginning to rack her body now that

Lucky didn't answer her until he'd found a blanket stowed in one of the boat's cubbyholes. He draped it around Serena's shoulders and tucked it carefully around her legs. «The distraction they sicced on me had a big mouth and a little brain.»

«And could she really suck the brass off a doorknob?» Serena asked, unable to keep the sarcasm from her tone.

«I wasn't interested in finding out.» He tipped her chin up and tried to read her face in the dim light of the moon. «Were you jealous?»

«Yes,» she answered honestly.

He didn't respond to that, but turned and prepared to start the boat.

«We'll need to tell the sheriff about Burke too,» Serena said, finding practical ground safer footing than probing the uncertain territory of their relationship. «I think Burke is the one who paid Willis and Perret to-to-«

«No. He didn't. Skeeter Mouton says Burke was in the roadhouse when Willis and Pou left for their meeting this afternoon.» Lucky turned around and sat back against the console of the boat, crossing his arms over his massive chest. The look he leveled at Serena was serious. «I think you'd better face facts, Serena. Shelby did this.»

Serena's heart gave a painful jolt. «No.»

«You stood in her way, so she arranged to get rid of you.»

«No,» she said again, shaking her head. She didn't want to believe it. She didn't even want to consider the possibility. It was one thing to know she would never be close with her twin it was something else to accept that her twin had tried to have her killed. She knew Shelby was emotionally unbalanced; there was no denying that after the scene over the power of attorney, but murder? Serena couldn't bring herself to believe that.

«How would Shelby ever have hired men like Willis and Perret?» she argued. «She wouldn't go near a place like Mouton's.»

«She wouldn't have to. All she need do is call up your 'family friend' Perry Davis.»

«Perry Davis?» Serena said, bewildered. «But Perry is-«

«Crooked as a dog's hind leg,» Lucky finished. «He finances his nasty little gambling addiction by taking payoffs from poachers. He wouldn't have any trouble finding the right men for a dirty job. No trouble a'tall.»

Serena leaned over and rubbed her temples. This was all happening too fast. It was overwhelming. In the span of just a few days her entire orderly world had been flipped upside down and inside out. Now Lucky was telling her a man she would have trusted was a criminal.

«What was to stop Burke from using Perry as a middleman?» she asked, lifting her head as the question sorted itself from the chaos in her mind. «He wouldn't want to be linked directly with people like Willis and Perret. It doesn't mean anything that he didn't meet with them himself. He paid them to start the fire and he paid them to kidnap me.»

«I don't think so, sugar,» Lucky said. «But we'll find out soon enough.»

They arrived at Lucky s house sometime later. Serena had no idea of the hour. The night had taken on an endless quality. She sat huddled in the passenger seat of the boat with the blanket wrapped tightly around her while Lucky quietly piloted the boat through the swamp. Neither spoke. When they reached his dock, Lucky tied the boat and carried Serena into the house.

Serena didn't even think of protesting. The aftershock of what had happened, the knowledge of what might have happened, the questions of who had caused it all to happen bombarded her nerves until it was all she could do to keep from falling completely apart. Having Lucky hold her was the best medicine she could have thought to prescribe.

He carried her into the bathroom and undressed her carefully. She kept her eyes on his artists hands, long and strong and infinitely gentle, as they peeled away her torn, soiled blouse and the whiskey-soaked bra. She thought of the way Willis had touched her and shivered.

«Are you afraid of me, chere?» Lucky asked softly.

Serena shook her head. «No. It's just that-«She broke off as another shudder of revulsion trembled through her and tears swam up to blur her vision. «He… touched me. And I feel… so… dirty.»

Lucky bent his head and kissed the teardrops falling from her eyes. He whispered to her in his low, soothing voice. «It's all right, chere. I'll take it all away.»

He filled the small clawfooted tub with warm water scented with a fragrant oil taken from a mysterious brown bottle in the medicine cabinet. When the water was ready, he finished undressing Serena and carefully placed her in the tub.

The water felt like heaven, warm and soft and soothing The fragrance of the oil drifted up in the steam, filling her head and taking away the remembered smells of sweat and liquor and fear. Serena closed her eyes and leaned back, relaxing for the first time in what seemed like weeks. Lucky leaned over her with one arm around her shoulders and carefully washed away all the dirt. He ran the cloth gently over her face, soothing her with his touch as he washed all the places that had been scratched and bruised. With infinite care he touched the cut at the corner of her mouth, ran the cloth down her throat, stroked it over her breasts. As he pressed soft kisses to her temple, he brought the warm, scented water up in his cupped palm to pour it down over her skin again and again in a cascade of cleansing, healing fluid.

Serena didn't speak for fear of breaking the spell. She allowed Lucky to touch her, to try to take away all evidence and memory of what had happened. She leaned into his strength, absorbed his gentleness, soaked up the love he was giving her, hoarding it away in her heart. Tomorrow loomed on her horizon like a storm gathering at the edge of the swamp, making these moments all the more precious to her. She savored each one and prayed what was left of the night would last forever.

When the water cooled, Lucky lifted her from the tub and dried her, then wrapped her in a towel and sat her down on the commode to carefully comb the tangles from her hair. He tended to the worst of her cuts with more of the mysterious oil from the cabinet, then carried her to his bed.

Serena snuggled into his embrace when he slid in naked beside her, letting her arms find their way around his waist. Her head nestled into his shoulder as if it had been made to fit there.

«Lucky?» she whispered.

«Hush, cherie,» he murmured. «You need to sleep.»

«No. I need you.» She lifted her head and found his eyes in the soft light from the candle beside the bed. «Make love to me, Lucky. I need to feel you. I need to have you love me. I need to have it feel good and right. Please.»

Lucky studied her face in the glow of the candle's flame. His heart nearly burst at the earnest plea in her soft, dark eyes. Dieu, he loved her so! He hadn't thought it possible for him to feel such emotion again, but now he ached with it in his muscles, in his bones, in his blood; he could taste it bittersweet upon his tongue. He loved her. And while there was precious little he could give her, he could give her this: his touch, his body, a memory of tenderness to take away the pain.

«Please, Lucky,» she whispered.

Turning onto his side, he lowered his head and kissed her slowly as he stroked his hand down her side. He made love to her with a patience he hadn't known he possessed, with a tenderness he had long denied. He caressed her and kissed her endlessly, until Serena took the initiative and guided him to the soft heat between her thighs. He slid into her, his breath catching at the exquisite sense of being one with her, and he loved her slowly and gently, until they were both replete.

He didn't withdraw from her afterward, but held her close, stroking her hair, brushing whisper-soft kisses to her temple.

«I love you,» she whispered as she finally gave in to sleep.

Lucky gazed down at her as the candle on the stand guttered and died and darkness swept in around them.

«Je t'aime, mon coeur,» he whispered into the silence.