[Bayou Gavotte 00.0] Back to Bite You Read online

  “They already know.” Gerry hauled his aunts into Stan’s office and told them, “Before you decide whether to proceed with your lawsuit, I need to tell you all a story.”

  “About what?” June whined. “We have to sue her. Gerry, how could you just let her take our stuff?”

  April crossed her scrawny arms. “Be quick about it, and if you think I’m paying Stan while you jaw on about nothing, you can think again.”

  Gerry told them about the Mardi Gras ball of 1941 and Dorinda and Arthur’s ill-fated romance. “He was shipped off to the South Seas,” Gerry said. “Perhaps through the influence of her wealthy future husband, or perhaps the family of a woman who was jealous of Dorinda. A family who wanted their daughter to be the belle of the ball and win over the most eligible bachelor in town. Would you have any idea which?”

  June’s eyes widened. April shot her a look and sniffed. “Of course not. We weren’t even born yet.”

  “Your mother might have told you something,” Gerry said, and the pink spots on June’s cheeks told him he’d guessed correctly. “She attended that same Mardi Gras ball.” He paused, but neither of them denied that, perhaps because it would be easy enough to prove.

  “Wow. What a story.” Stan glanced at the haughty April and the quivering June. “So that really is a fang in the famous photo of Dorinda.”

  “Of course it is,” April snarled.

  “As my grandfather wished, Mirabel intends to give the dress and parure to the university museum,” Gerry said. “In fact, I think she has gone there now.”

  April made a rude noise. “If you believe that, you’re a complete fool.”

  Hopefully not; he’d been a fool for too many years already. The assistant, who had been typing madly, stopped to open his cell phone and send a text message.

  On to the next step. “Stan, my aunts want to sue Ms. Lane for the house and its contents. You need to know a little more family history first.”

  Auntie June whimpered. Aunt April shushed her and snapped at Gerry, “What does the past have to do with it?”

  “Everything,” Gerry said. “Over twenty years ago, Dorinda Darblay divorced her husband and returned to New Orleans. She and Arthur got in touch again and rekindled their old romance. Shortly afterward, my grandfather was almost beaten to death.”

  April glared. “He was mugged. So what?”

  “He was set upon by hired thugs. Among Arthur’s effects we found a letter from Dorinda. She used her connections in the underbelly of New Orleans to make inquiries about who hired them.”

  “Oh, dear,” June warbled. “Gerry, please try to understand. We meant it for the best.”

  “Shut up, June,” said April. “Gerry’s bluffing. He has no proof.”

  True, but fortunately, June was simply dying to let it out. “We couldn’t let him marry that monster.”

  “Vampires are not monsters.” Gerry strove to keep his voice flat. “They are just people. You sent me to military school to keep me away from a vampire. I suppose I should be thankful you didn’t have me beaten up, too.”

  “But, Gerry, we had to save you!” June cried. “It was for your own good.”

  “Excuse me,” the assistant said. “I just received a text message confirming that the dress and parure are safely at the museum.”

  June groaned, but Gerry couldn’t help but grin. Now to get this over with, find Mirabel, and convince her he wasn’t a jerk as well as a fool.

  “It’s a trick,” April hissed. “She’ll just bewitch some other idiotic man and take them away again.” Her eyes flashed. “Listen to me, you stupid boy. Our mother—your grandmother, in case you have lost all sense of duty to your family—was supposed to be a Mardi Gras queen. Dorinda stole that honor from her. A normal woman doesn’t stand a chance against a vampire. Mother should have presided at that ball. She should have worn the gown and jewels, and they should have been bequeathed to us. She got her revenge by marrying Daddy, but he never really loved her. He never got over Dorinda Darblay.”

  “We couldn’t let him marry her.” June’s voice quavered. “It would have been so disrespectful of poor mother.”

  Gerry gritted his teeth. “And having him beaten up was respectful?”

  “He got what he deserved,” April said.

  “And so did Dorinda,” added June.

  Gerry and Stan exchanged glances. The assistant stopped typing.

  “I was glad when someone shot her!” June cried, oblivious.

  For once, April said nothing at all.

  * * *

  Mirabel entered the museum escorted by Officer Turlow, the rookie cop she’d met when Arthur died, and a crowd of fascinated spectators. For a brief instant, she’d feared Turlow would try to arrest her, but he had only offered a bashful escort to wherever she chose. He also informed her that Gerry Kingsley and his aunts had driven away from the house just as one of his brother officers had arrived. She supposed she should be relieved or comforted or something, but after her burst of rage, she just felt numb.

  After someone had graciously found an old raincoat for her to wear, she handed over the gown and paraphernalia to the museum director in full view of at least a hundred witnesses. After recounting the touching story of Arthur and Dorinda’s romance and being regaled with coffee and cookies, she slipped out the back door wearing her bra, panties, flip-flops, and the raincoat. The thought of going home to be alone with her misery was so depressing that she headed for the club instead.

  Halfway there, her cell phone rang. It was the friend who’d been keeping an eye on Sergio.

  “He knows where you are,” the friend said. “Not only that, he knows you’re with some guy called Gerry Kingsley.”

  Mirabel’s breath caught. Her heart began to thud. “How could he possibly know that? We met only yesterday.”

  “That I don’t know,” her friend said. “You might want to tell Gerry to make himself scarce.”

  Mirabel hung up. She couldn’t let anything happen to Gerry, no matter how much he’d hurt her. She would call and warn him, and . . .

  Oh, no! She didn’t know his cell number. But Janie Jo did. Mirabel took off running for the club.

  She staggered in a few minutes later, out of breath and drenched in sweat from the humid heat. “Janie Jo,” she gasped. “Do you have Gerry’s cell number?”

  “Sure,” said Janie Jo, cracking her gum. “It’s in the office. Hey, what’s wrong?”

  “I’ll tell you later. Get his number, and hurry!” She followed Janie Jo into the office.

  “It’s five-zero-four,” Janie began.

  “Just dial it,” Mirabel said, shivering with impatience.

  But Gerry didn’t answer. “Try again,” Mirabel said, “and meanwhile I’ll put his number in my phone.” Maybe he was still at the lawyer’s office. She had to go look for him. She had to find him before it was too late.

  “No answer,” Janie Jo said. “Should I leave a message?”

  “Give me the phone.” Even if Gerry got the message in time, would he pay attention? He’d already brushed off her concerns about Sergio. The beep sounded. “Gerry, please listen. Sergio’s in town, and―”

  A crash and clatter stopped her in midsentence.

  “What was that?” said Janie Jo. “Some kids must have knocked over the trash cans again.” She stormed away.

  “And he’s out to get you,” Mirabel said into the phone as she followed. “Please, please go somewhere safe and stay there until I find him.” She hung up. She would go home first, in case Sergio knew her address and was lurking there.

  Janie Jo opened the back door. Grunts and heaves sounded from the yard. “Oh, my God, Gerry!” she cried.

  Mirabel hurried out behind her. Gerry and Sergio circled each other in the tiny paved yard. “Sergio,” she hollered, “if you touch him, I swear I’ll kill you!”

  Needless to say, Sergio ignored her. So did Gerry. A cell phone rang—she recognized Sergio’s ring—but he ignored it, keeping his eyes
on Gerry.

  “Should I call the cops?” Janie Jo said.

  “Yes!” Mirabel gave her the phone. “Quickly!”

  “No,” Gerry grunted. “I can handle this.”

  Sergio rushed him, and they grappled, shoving and heaving, trying to trip one another. They seemed evenly matched strengthwise, but Mirabel knew better. Sergio was dirty—a street fighter.

  They were apart now, circling again. Oh, crap! Sergio had his switchblade out.

  “Stop fighting, you idiots!” she shrieked. “I’m calling the cops.” She grabbed the phone from Janie Jo just as Sergio lunged.

  Suddenly he was in the air, tossed over Gerry’s shoulder. He landed on the paving stones with a crunch. His knife went flying, and Gerry caught it.

  Wow.

  “Fuck,” Sergio wheezed.

  “Thank God.” Mirabel flung her arms around Gerry—and then let go. She backed away. She didn’t want him dead, but he was still a traitor.

  For a long moment, no one said anything. Sergio lay on the ground, struggling to get his wind back. Calmly, Gerry shut the knife. He was a little out of breath, but that was all. Janie Jo righted the trash can with trembling hands. Mirabel was still shivering with reaction when the cell phone rang again.

  Sergio reached into his pocket and pulled it out. Still flat on his back, he grimaced at the display and heaved himself to his feet. He didn’t answer the phone. “It’s that crazy Aunt April of yours, Kingsley. I told her it was a bad idea to rough up a family member, but she insisted.”

  “I think you’ll find she has changed her mind,” Gerry said.

  “What the hell?” Mirabel stared at Sergio. “Gerry’s aunt told you to beat him up?”

  “It’s a long story,” Gerry said. Mirabel didn’t look at him. Now that he was safe, she felt her temper rising again. She didn’t trust herself to speak to him.

  She kept her eyes on Sergio. “So this isn’t about getting me back?”

  “It would have been if they’d hired me a couple of days ago, but I met someone else last night,” Sergio said with a smug little smile.

  That was good news, but it didn’t explain everything. “How did his aunt know about you? About us?”

  “She’s got connections on her mother’s side,” Sergio said. “Cousins or something.” He turned to Gerry. “I wouldn’t have done it—you’ve got to be nuts to mug someone in Bayou Gavotte―but I needed the money. My new girl likes diamonds.”

  “I hope April paid you in advance,” Gerry said.

  “Fifty percent, and she’s not getting it back.” Sergio grimaced. “No hard feelings? I’d rather the Bayou Gavotte underworld didn’t hear about this. Might come back to bite me.”

  “It never happened.” Gerry tossed him the switchblade. He’d so been right about his ability to take care of himself.

  “Better get back to my new squeeze,” Sergio grunted. “Can’t leave her alone too long or someone might steal her.”

  “I’m so glad you have a new girlfriend, Sergio,” Mirabel said. She could go home to New Orleans now―but first she had to deal with Arthur’s house. She’d have to pay Gerry for the repairs to the roof and then put the place up for sale—cheap. What a shame; she had come to like the old house, and returning to New Orleans didn’t hold much appeal right now.

  “A new vampire,” Sergio said. “How lucky can I get? Two vamps in a row. Can’t resist her.” He blew Mirabel a kiss and left. Janie Jo went back indoors.

  Mirabel followed. The last thing she wanted was to be stuck out here alone with Gerry. He’d been perfectly able to resist her in favor of helping his aunts.

  “I need a private room,” she told Janie Jo. “Give me a bucket of beans and a jug of chocolate syrup.”

  “Coming right up.” Janie Jo grinned. “Will, um, Gerry be joining you?”

  “No,” Mirabel said. “I want to be alone.”

  ***

  Gerry played Mirabel’s message three times. The panic in her voice, and the way she’d hugged him in relief, didn’t jive with the way she’d backed away and ignored him after the fight.

  All he had to do was get her to listen. He pondered a while, considering ways and means, and then went into the club.

  ***

  Mirabel was sitting in her underwear, unable to eat even a spoonful of the baked beans the club was famous for, when Gerry knocked on the door.

  “Mirabel, let me in.”

  “Go away,” she said through the door. The sound of his voice made her want to burst into tears. What was wrong with her? He was a weak-assed traitor. She couldn’t possibly love him anymore.

  “I need to talk to you,” he said.

  “Why? There’s nothing to say.”

  “There’s plenty to say, and if you don’t open up, I’ll use the master key to get in.”

  “Hey!” Her temper flared again. “You can’t do that. I paid for privacy.” Well, not exactly. “Or I will tomorrow, when I have my pocketbook with me.”

  “You don’t have to pay for the room,” Gerry said.

  Okay, now she was really mad. She set the beans down, slung back the lock, and opened the door. “You miserable beast, I wouldn’t take a—”

  Flick! A spoonful of whipped cream hit her in the face.

  “—dime from you!” She licked at the cream. It was the real thing.

  But he wasn’t the real thing, and that was all that mattered. She swiped at the cream with her hand. “Take your pie and get out of here!”

  Whap! A dollop of cream landed on her breast and slid into her cleavage.

  Gerry came into the room, kicked the door shut, and bolted it. He set the pie down. “Not until you’ve calmed down, gotten a hold of your temper, and we’ve talked.”

  Her heart sank. She’d lost her temper again—twice now because of Gerry—but that was no excuse.

  Damn it all, yes, it was! What was the use of a temper if she couldn’t let fly from time to time? He’d done his best to betray her to his aunts. He’d taken them to the lawyer to plan a lawsuit.

  And now he was dipping his finger into the chocolate syrup and licking it off, a quirk of a smile creeping onto his face. How dare he look so pleased with himself?

  Her fangs slotted down. She was way too enraged to stop them. Maybe now he would realize she meant business. “About what?”

  “About why you don’t have to pay for the room.” He was looking at her fangs, but not as if they scared him. “About why I should pay for it instead.”

  “Not a chance, you b—”

  Splosh! He dumped the jug of chocolate syrup over her head.

  “Stop it!” she sputtered, backing away, but he advanced toward her with the bucket of beans. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  “Loosening up.” He arced a spoonful of beans her way. They slid down her belly. “Letting go.”

  He had her against the wall now. He stuck his thumb in her underwear and slopped beans into the front. “Setting myself free. Since I’m getting all the benefit from this food fight, I should pay.”

  She squirmed as beans slithered into her crotch. She pushed chocolate-slathered hair out of her face. “Damn it, Gerry—”

  He backed away and set the bucket of beans on the table.

  “And also because the club is yours. I signed my shares over to you tonight.”

  She gasped, inhaling chocolate up her nose, and sneezed. “You’re on a guilt trip, I suppose.” She sneezed again, grabbed a tissue, and blew her nose. “I don’t want your club.”

  “Why would I be on a guilt trip? I haven’t done anything wrong.” He kicked off his shoes. “Except be a fool, but I was just a dumb kid, and it never occurred to me to ask questions.” He paused. “Turns out I was probably safer that way.”

  With aunts who would contract to have him mugged because he’d taken up with a vampire, that was definitely true.

  An appalling thought occurred to her. Oh. My. God. No, impossible. Surely not.

  Gerry interrupted it
. “I also willed you all my worldly goods.”

  Not another one! “You, too?” she wailed. “Why?”

  “Because you turned my life around,” he said, taking off his sneakers and socks. “You made me see what I didn’t want to see. You cracked open all the family secrets and got the mess over with.” He stripped off his shirt. “I’ve never felt so free in my life.” He unzipped his fly and shucked his jeans. “You’re looking tasty tonight.”

  “Just hold on a minute,” she said. He seemed to think he could just crawl all over her and lap up the chocolate and cream. First they had to talk. “What happened about the lawsuit? Where are April and June?”

  “With Stan, the lawyer, trying to figure out a way to sue you, me, or both of us without being thrown into jail. I told Stan the whole sordid family history in front of them and his assistant, and he recorded it all. If anything happens to either of us, my aunts will be prime suspects. When I left, Stan was on his third whiskey, June was blubbering, and April was alternately scolding and threatening.” He peeled off Mirabel’s bra, spread chocolate syrup over her nipples, and sucked it off.

  “Stop it,” she said. “I can’t think when you do that.”

  He kept right on licking and sucking. “Maybe this club isn’t such a dumb place after all.”

  “Of course it’s not dumb.” She fought off the growing haze of lust and put her horrifying suspicion into words. “April and June contracted to have Arthur mugged, didn’t they?”

  “Yep.”

  “Their own father.”

  “Yep.”

  “That’s . . . just . . . awful.”

  “Yep.”

  She laid her head against him for a long moment, unintentionally smearing chocolate syrup all over his chest. He laughed, and she licked it up, and her sadness eased.

  He got down on one knee. The beans had made a squishy mess on her abdomen. He ate a mouthful and grimaced. “No, even on you I can’t stand baked beans.” He pulled down her undies and cleaned her thoroughly with his fingers, driving her mad, and then shucked his underwear.

  “We can’t have sex here,” Mirabel said, regretfully eying his erection. “It’s against the club rules.”