Bayou Betrayal Page 20

  The woman he was falling in love with.

  Man, her head pounded.

  Darkness enveloped her. Monique knew she was awake—coherent, but she couldn’t open her eyes. A blindfold covered them. She strained to hear. Off in a distant part of the building where she lay, she could just make out a man’s voice.

  A greasy stench wafted under her nostrils, causing her stomach to heave. She attempted to hoist herself up from her reclining position, but fell against the restraints holding her hands confined. Using her legs, she eased herself into a sitting position.

  Fear surged as realization dawned—she’d been kidnapped!

  Reverberations of footsteps bounced off the walls surrounding her. Monique’s palms sweated. Her heart raced. He, whoever he was, drew closer. Her heartbeat echoed in her head. She leaned back against a hard object—a wall?—and felt cold steel dig into her spine.

  She still had her gun! Whoever had her must not have checked. Must have thought she had raced out of the burning house without taking anything.

  Shuffle, step. Shuffle, step.

  His breathing sounded strained, coming in bursts and pants. She could smell an undertone of fuel in the close room. If only her hands weren’t tied in front of her, she could reach her 9 mm. She struggled against the restraints and detected a little play in the knots.

  Shuffle, step. Shuffle, step. Step, stop.

  Panic overtook her. While she couldn’t see through the blindfold, she could feel his presence. Feel his stare. She worked her hands faster.

  Harsh hands yanked the fabric covering her eyes. She blinked several times, trying to focus in the dim room. Why, she was in Spence’s church.

  But who was the man standing in front of her?

  He was shorter than her five-foot-five-inch frame and looked to be early to mid-thirties. Very slight build, with a thick head of hair. Yet, she didn’t recognize him.

  His scowl was very intimidating. “You’ve caused me quite a bit of trouble, Mrs. Harris. Guess it’s time to return the favor.”

  Dear Lord, I know we just got back on an even keel, but please help me.

  She stiffened her spine and mustered all her strength, pushing it all into her voice. “You have the advantage—you know who I am, but I don’t know you.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Who I am isn’t important.”

  “But you’ve kidnapped me. Why? I haven’t done anything to you.”

  “No, you haven’t. But it’s who you are that’s important.”

  “I’m nobody. Just a widow trying to rebuild my life with my new family.” Tears filled her eyes. Images of Felicia, Luc, CoCo and Spence’s faces flashed before her.

  And Gary Anderson.

  No, she wouldn’t give this man the satisfaction of seeing her cry, seeing her broken. She worked her hands until she felt a little more slack.

  “And if you’d have stayed in Monroe and forgotten all about your new family, you wouldn’t be in this pickle.”

  And then she knew. She froze. “You’re Kevin Haynie.”

  He cocked his hip out. “Very astute.”

  “Why does my father want me away from Lagniappe? It’s not like he’s ever coming back here.”

  Kevin snorted. “Shows what you know. He’ll be out within sixty days.”

  “He murdered his own brother and nephew. Last time I checked, they don’t let murderers like that go free.”

  “You’d be amazed at what the Trahan money can buy, honey. Even an early release, if you know how to work the system.”

  “But Justin doesn’t have any money. It’s all in a trust fund that has reverted to Luc and Felicia upon his incarceration.”

  “Not quite, toots.”

  Oh, no. That stupid special trust fund for any legal heirs. Now everything made sense. All of it—Kent being murdered, the threats, the fires…all because of Justin Trahan’s greed.

  “Why kill my husband? How does that have anything to do with the trust money?”

  “Ah, I see you’ve figured a few things out all on your own. Good girl.”

  “What was the point?”

  “We’d hoped it’d distract you. Since Justin rejected you, we’d hoped you’d stay in Monroe and forget all about Lagniappe.” He sneered. “We didn’t count on you being so stubborn.”

  Her mouth went dry as her false bravado vanished. She glanced around the church, looking for something, anything, to distract him. Just long enough to work a hand free to get her gun.

  “Well, I’ve enjoyed our little chat, but now it’s time for me to get back to work.” He lifted the gas can and tossed the contents all over the red carpet covering the center aisle.

  Stall him! “Why here? Why not my house?” She ignored the rope burning into her wrists. Just a little more play and she could squeeze her right hand free.

  “Couldn’t take a chance on you escaping again. Which you did.” He trailed the liquid down the aisle and into the entryway. “Besides, Justin’s still upset with his niece and nephew. Burning down the church seems a bit poetic, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Why not just shoot me, the way you shot Kent?” Working her hands against her wrists, she felt a little more slack in the knot.

  He sashayed back to her, frowning. “I didn’t kill your husband. Justin hired those bozos before I came into the picture.”

  “So why not shoot me?”

  The smile that spread across his face sent icy spiders up her back. “Because I’m not a killer. I give life. I let fire loose, let it breathe and eat and play.”

  Oh, sweet mercy, this man was insane. She struggled frantically against the ropes.

  He pulled out a matchbox, withdrew a match and struck it. The flame danced upward. The scent of sulfur filled the air, mixing with the greasy fuel stench.

  Her heart pounded.

  “Isn’t it beautiful? See how it moves, how it’s alive.”

  She held her breath as the flame ate the matchstick.

  Just before it reached his fingertips, he blew out the fire. He smiled. “I love this part…where I’m about to unleash it, but am still holding it back, controlling the beast.”

  Sick. The man was sick. And she’d better think of something fast before he killed her.

  He withdrew another match and held it against the strike-plate.

  Her gaze darted around the front of the church. The altar.

  “Wait.”

  He let out a sigh, but held the match. “What?”

  “At least let me pray before you do this.” Finally, only a little left and she’d have her hand free.

  Kevin tilted his head, considering. “Why not?” He nodded toward the altar. “Go ahead and pray.”

  She stood on wobbly feet.

  He held the match against the strike-plate. “But no funny stuff, or you go poof.”

  She dropped to her knees, using the movement to block his view of her hands. Despite the pain, Monique jerked her right wrist free.

  Her hands were untied!

  But he held the match…he could strike it and drop it before she could stop him. As much fuel as he dumped everywhere, the place would go up immediately—no chance for her escape.

  God, help me here. I don’t have any other choice but to pull my gun. Please don’t let him strike that match.

  In a single, fluid movement, she rose and put her weight on her toes, slipped her hand around her gun, spun and held the shooter’s stance with Kevin Haynie in her sights. “Drop the matches, now!”

  His heart raced faster than the cruiser over the roads to Vermilion Parish Community Church.

  Gary couldn’t believe it when the dispatcher came over the radio and redirected all available emergency personnel to the church because a Monique Harris had stopped arsonist Kevin Haynie from setting the church on fire and held him at gunpoint.

  Well, glory be praised that she had her gun. The woman never ceased to amaze him. And when he saw her, he intended to tell her just that.

  After he hugged her to make sure she w
as really okay.

  He whipped into the church’s parking lot just seconds before an EMT unit. Not knowing the situation, Gary withdrew his weapon and ran into the church. The smell of gas, grease and sulfur nearly gagged him. He crashed through the entryway into the sanctuary.

  And skidded to a stop at the sight before him.

  Kevin Haynie sat quietly in the first pew. Monique leaned against the podium, gun trained on Haynie.

  If he’d had any doubts that he needed to pursue a relationship with the woman, they were dispelled now.

  He rushed forward, handcuffed Haynie and read him the Miranda rights before turning to Monique.

  Her copper curls sprang out all over her head. She lowered her gun to the podium and grinned. “About time you showed up.”

  He drew her into his arms and, ignoring the EMT and fire department personnel filtering through the church, dipped his head and kissed her. Long. Thoroughly. With as much emotion as he could put into a kiss.

  She blinked when he backed away. “Wow. Remind me to get taken hostage more often if you’ll run to my rescue and kiss me like that.”

  “Bite your tongue.” But he lowered his head and kissed her again.

  EPILOGUE

  “You know, I bet you’ll be promoted next week after the sheriff gets back.” Monique sat on the swing beside Gary, looking out over the bayou from her backyard. “You did a great job.”

  “Look at you—you’re the one who caught Haynie.”

  “Only because of information you uncovered.” She glanced at their interwoven hands. “You realize your gift saved my life.”

  “Huh?”

  “The rocker. I threw it out the window to get out when the house was on fire and Haynie had me trapped inside.”

  “Good thing the house was old or it would’ve never made it through double-paned windows.”

  “I’m just sick that the rocker burned up.”

  “I’ll buy you a new one.”

  She laughed and glanced to the house. “They’ll finish all the cleanup tomorrow, and will be able to start rebuilding next week. It’s a blessing only the front part of the house was damaged.”

  “I talked to Spence this morning. He said the church’s all done, thanks to your funding the job.”

  She shrugged. “I figured Justin owed them that. I’m quite certain he was livid when he heard I’d pulled all the cash out of the special fund and given it to the church.”

  He chuckled. “Oh, I’m sure he was.”

  She snuggled closer, relishing the warmth of his embrace. “And thank you for getting his request for early release denied so quickly.”

  “Hey, it was easy to do with all the evidence. Ogburn and Haynie’s statements alone sank Justin’s ship.”

  “I’m glad.” She stood, tugging him with her. “You know, if I’m going to build a home here, Lagniappe’s pretty much stuck with me forever.”

  He turned her toward him, staring into her face. The warmth in his eyes made her knees go weak. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

  Now her knees really went weak.

  Gary pulled back and smiled. “I love you, you know that?”

  Happiness surged through her like a wildfire over timber. Tears stung her eyes. “Oh, Gary. I love you, too.” And she did. A part of her heart would always belong to Kent, but Gary was in the present. And the future.

  He kissed her again, then hugged her. “Yeah, but you just remember who said it first.”

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you for trudging along through the Louisiana bayou once again. I’ve enjoyed introducing you to the newest member of the Trahan clan, Monique, and sharing her story with you. She’s a welcome addition to Lagniappe, wouldn’t you say?

  Some of Monique’s struggles in her anger at God were struggles I’ve encountered over the past few years. Thank you for allowing me to share part of my spiritual journey with you. I hope you laughed a little, cried a little, and your faith was strengthened by Monique’s story.

  I love hearing from readers. Visit me at www.robincaroll.com and drop me a line, or write to me at P.O. Box 242091, Little Rock, AR 72223. I invite you to join my newsletter group and sign my guest book. I look forward to hearing from you.

  Blessings,

  Robin Caroll

  QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

  Monique lost her husband and had to deal with the additional burden that he had died so violently. How do you handle grief?

  Gary wanted a promotion and set out to prove himself worthy. Have you ever wanted a promotion or a particular job? How did you conduct yourself?

  Justin denied that he was Monique’s biological father. Have you ever been rejected by someone you’re related to? Close to? How did you handle the emotions rejection brought up?

  Felicia and Luc accepted Monique into their family with open arms—no questions asked. If faced with a similar situation, how would you react?

  Gary appreciated all the sacrifices his mother had made for him as a child. Has anyone made sacrifices for you? How did you show your appreciation?

  Monique was angry with God because she’d lost both her mother and her husband. Have you ever been angry with God? How did you deal with your emotions?

  Justin Trahan would stop at nothing to satisfy his greed. Do you know or have you ever known someone who was insatiably greedy? How do/did you interact with this person?

  Della was a nurturer by nature, but Gary worried Monique might find her overbearing. Do you know someone with a personality similar to Della’s? How would you describe her or his attitude?

  Gary appreciated his fellow deputy’s skills and talents, even though he might be in competition with Mike. Have you ever felt competitive toward a coworker? Were you able to appreciate your coworker’s skills and/or talents? Why or why not?

  Monique had to learn to let go of the past to move on to love again. Whether a love is lost by death or other means, losing love can be difficult. Have you ever lost love? What did you do to overcome your loss and move on to the future?

  Small towns often have a gossip mill, fed by people like the character of Anna Grace. How do you deal with gossip?

  Gary fumbled around Monique—saying the wrong thing, blurting out things he shouldn’t have, and so on. Have you ever acted like that around someone? Share.

  Parker Fenton gave Monique an odd feeling for no apparent reason. Have you ever felt that way about someone? How did you handle the situation?

  Even during trying times, and trials we don’t understand, God is our protector. How can you back up that statement with Scripture?

  The rocking chair Gary gave Monique, which later helped her save her life, was special to her. Does something someone gave you have a special meaning to you? Explain.

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-2707-5

  BAYOU BETRAYAL

  Copyright © 2009 by Robin Miller

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Steeple Hill Books, 233 Broadway, New York, NY 10279 U.S.A.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This edition published by arrangement with Steeple Hill Books.

  ® and TM are trademarks of Steeple Hill Books, used under license. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.

  www.SteepleHill.com

 

 

&
nbsp;