Lancelot of the Pines (Louisiana Knights Book 1) Page 11

  The casual hospitality and friendly interest was typical of South Louisiana. That it was sincere was obvious.

  Mandy looked at Lance, and he looked at her. Quietly, she said, “The alternative is peanut butter sandwiches.”

  “About right,” he answered.

  “Do we dare?”

  Lance glanced around the merry group, but made no reply.

  “They don’t look like hired assassins to me,” Mandy whispered.

  “No, I guess they don’t.”

  She turned back to their would-be host. “I’m sorry. We don’t have anything to add to the feast.”

  “Lord love you, chère, we have enough for an army!”

  They did, too, everything from gumbo and jambalaya to dirty rice and fried turkey. There were appetizers, piles of fried fish, fried shrimp, and fried bread, also great dishes of bread pudding, banana pudding and pyramids of brownies, wedding cookies, anise cookies, lemon bars and old-fashioned chocolate fudge. On top of that was a long line of casseroles that looked delicious, even if they defied identification.

  Mandy and Lance tried a little of everything, and then were encouraged to eat more. Lance had a beer or two. Mandy sipped a glass of homemade wine. They both sampled the desserts, eating off each other’s plates.

  Night fell and still they sat talking and nibbling at things different ones insisted they try. No one asked for anything other than given names, and they didn’t volunteer. They learned more than they needed to know about the huge family while telling as little as possible about themselves. It was enough that they were with good people having a good time, or passing one, as some said.

  Before long, someone plugged in a memory stick into a makeshift sound system, one loaded with an endless selection of favorite Cajun tunes filled with the toe-tapping cadence of accordions and fiddles. The moon rose, throwing the dark shadows of the tall pines across the ground. Party lights were strung along the pavilion eaves and camping lanterns were lit and hung from tree branches here and there. Wine and beer made another round. Couples old and young got up to dance on the grass, many of them kicking off their shoes for better traction on the uneven ground. They moved together as if they’d done it a thousand times before, dipping and swaying with firelight and moonlight shining on their faces.

  “Know how to two-step?” Lance asked close to Mandy ear.

  She gave a quick shake of her head. “I never learned to dance.”

  “First time for everything,” he said, and took her hand. Bending, he slipped off her flip-flops, kicked away his own sneakers, and then pulled her out onto the soft, makeshift dance floor.

  It was magical, with the scent of the crushed grass and feel of it beneath her bare feet, the soft glow of the moon, and the nostalgic, old-fashioned music. The two-step proved easy enough with Lance to guide her, and the waltz that came next no harder. The strength of his arms enthralled her, his sensual, masculine scent surrounded her. They moved together in perfect rhythm to the magical swing of the ancient Cajun tune, hands clasped, thighs brushing, upper bodies so close they could feel the thumping of each other’s hearts.

  Pressure built behind Mandy’s breast bone. She never wanted the dance to end. For this single moment in time she was happy. She treasured the passing seconds because of the dangers she’d been through rather than in spite of them.

  There had been too few times in her life without fear or regret, when she could surrender to pleasure like other women. This was one she would always remember, she knew, for it was so rare.

  Tears crowded behind her eyes, but she blinked them away. Nothing must spoil it, nothing take away from the shining gladness she felt inside.

  Still, it ended, as all things must.

  Mandy wiped the moisture from under her lashes and turned away. When asked what was wrong, she only said a gnat had flown into her eye.

  People were beginning to gather children and turn toward their camp sites. Older women were putting away leftover food in ice chests the size of home freezers. Men were folding chairs and picking up beer cans and soiled plates, stuffing them into big black plastic bags. It was time to go.

  Mandy and Lance found their shoes and slipped them own, then said their farewells with genuine expressions of appreciation for the good food, good company. With final waves, they headed back toward their own camp site.

  “That was fun,” Mandy said. It was a terrible understatement, but the best she could do at the moment.

  “It was. Those folks reminded me of people in Chamelot.”

  “Must be nice to be around them all the time.”

  He inclined his head. “It’s a fine place to live.”

  A fine place, but not for her, Mandy knew. She had no ties there. At some point she would return to New Orleans, she was sure, if not for more questioning, then because it was familiar. Strange, how barren that sounded.

  “You’re a natural dancer,” Lance said as he strolled with his hands in his pants pockets. “I can’t believe you’ve never done it before.”

  She almost answered that Bruce didn’t care for dancing, that he had no ear for the music, but decided against it. Enough of Bruce, more than enough.

  “Never had the opportunity, I suppose.”

  “You should make more of them when this is over.”

  “Will it ever be over?” The question sounded as hopeless as she felt.

  Lance stopped, lifted a hand to touch her cheek, drying a stray tear with the backs of his fingers. “Of course it will. They’ll find whoever killed your husband, and that will be the end of it. You can go on with your life without being afraid.”

  “That’s all I want,” she said through the tightness in her throat. “All I’ve ever wanted is to be safe.”

  He brushed her bottom lip with his thumb, a stroke as gentle as a butterfly wing. “There is no real security in this world, Mandy. Things always happen. We lose what we value or else the people who mean the most. The closest we can come to safety is in the belief that those closest to us will never deliberately cause us harm.”

  They stood in the black shadow of a slash pine. Its tall trunk was only a step away. Lance circled her waist with a strong arm and turned with her in an abrupt move, pressing her back against the thick bark. He touched her mouth with his, a tingling benediction. She made a soft sound in her throat and pressed closer.

  The kiss changed, became deeper, firmer. His mouth was sweet and spicy, heady with the mingled flavors of wine and beer and alluring man. He took possession of hers, laving its inner surfaces with his tongue, delving into its secret recesses as if he wanted to taste all of her and would be satisfied with no less.

  Catching her breath with shivering delight, she rose on tiptoe and slid her arms around his neck. She felt the hard contours of his chest against her breasts, the exciting brush of his thighs near her pelvis. His skin was moist and warm, the smooth texture of it seductive under her palms. She smoothed her hand along his neck to his jaw, feeling the prickling roughness of his evening beard against her palm, accepting it with fascination and the need to brush the sensitive surface across it again and again.

  His chest swelled and he eased closer. The heat of him against her satisfied some deep, inner longing. She made a soft sound of need in her throat.

  Lance went still and pulled away. His breathing was fast and not quite even as he rested his forehead on hers. Slowly, almost casually, he turned his head. He stopped breathing, whispered a curse.

  Mandy opened her eyes, blindly following his line of sight. Stunned recognition flowed over her in a wave. She grasped Lance’s arms in a hold so tight her fingers ached with sudden cramp.

  “Don’t move,” he said against her hair. “You’re okay. All they’ll be able to see is my back.”

  He was talking about whoever was in the sedan, solid black so it blended with the night, that was easing along the winding camp road. As out of place as a bat at an Easter egg hunt, it was exactly like the one that had trailed her so often in New Orleans.
It rolled toward them in near silence, slowing at each site as if checking out the RVs parked at them.

  Closer it came, and closer still to the dense shadow where they stood. Its headlights brushed them, swept over them, and then moved on.

  Mandy wasn’t okay, not by a long shot. A shudder shook her, and then another.

  Not a single doubt existed in her mind that the occupants of that car knew she was with Lance at the campground. They were no longer looking for her alone.

  They were searching for both of them.

  Chapter 10

  “I don’t think they saw us,” Lance said as he watched the taillights of the black sedan recede, rounding a curve in the direction of the open field where the family gathering had been held.

  “Not this time.”

  He had to strain to hear Mandy’s voice, though her warm breath against his chin sent a rash of goose bumps across his shoulders. He’d taken advantage of the moment, and he knew it. He also understood, much more clearly than was comfortable, how close he’d come to forgetting the car he’d seen approaching, forgetting everything except the woman in his arms.

  That was a new one in his career as a lawman. How the hell had it happened?

  As if he didn’t know.

  “How did they find us?” she whispered.

  “Good question.”

  “Nobody should have any idea where we are, nobody. Except—”

  “I didn’t tell Trey where we were headed. No one has any idea except Sheriff Tate, and he doesn’t have details.”

  “So they tracked us somehow.”

  It didn’t seem possible, but she had to be right.

  “We have to get out of here,” she said, pushing against his chest with both hands.

  “Yeah.”

  The question was how. The baby RV was a nimble and mighty example of its kind, but no match in speed or maneuverability for a car. More than that, driving too fast on the curving back roads that led away from the campground was likely to land them upside down in a ditch.

  Lance thought of abandoning the cumbersome vehicle, but what was their alternative? He could steal a car or truck, but that went against the grain so completely it was a final resort.

  No, what they needed was to leave the campground unseen. Yes, and to gain time and distance before anyone knew they were gone.

  Mandy was apparently thinking along the same lines. “Too bad we don’t happen to have a few sticks of dynamite with us for a nice diversion,” she said, “the way they do in the movies.”

  That was it. A diversion was exactly what they needed.

  Lance laughed and planted a kiss on her forehead. “You’re a genius.”

  “I am?”

  “And there are times when being a cop is a good thing.”

  Releasing her, he pulled his cell phone from his pocket and located the number for the campground office. Seconds later, he was talking to the park ranger who made regular patrols along the roads. In tones as grave as he could make them, he identified himself and described a suspicious black sedan cruising the grounds, checking out campsites.

  “That won’t give us much time,” Mandy said when he punched the button to end the call.

  “Better than nothing.”

  Lance was about to return the cell to his pocket, but stopped. He stared down at it a second, thinking of the two or three times he’d spoken to the sheriff. If anyone knew he was with Mandy, knew anything at all about him, they might have been able to hack into it, track them to this lake in the middle of nowhere.

  Slipping the battery from the smart phone, he dropped to one knee and scratched a hole in the decomposed pine needles and dirt under the tree. He rammed the cell down into it, covered it with loose dirt, stomped down on it with his heel and then kicked loose pine needles over it.

  He caught Mandy’s hand then, and he plunged into the dark woods beyond the road. Circling down along the lake, he came out at the rear of their campsite. The RV sat there, silent and empty in the glow of campground security lights.

  Lance paused, watching as long as he dared. The coast seemed clear. Taking a deep breath, he moved forward with Mandy close behind him.

  Short minutes later, they were ready to roll since Lance had seen to it they were always halfway there. Moving out, he drove without headlights as long as they were in the camping area. He turned them on only as they neared the exit. And he didn’t breathe easy until they had cleared that gateway and its access road, and were heading south with all possible speed.

  Mandy glanced at him in the lights from the dashboard after a few miles. She faced forward again after a second, her eyes on the road that unwound like a yellow-streaked black ribbon ahead of them.

  “What now?” she asked.

  “Haven’t decided.”

  “Oh?”

  “I mean it,” he said in answer to the doubt he heard in her voice. “I’m not trying to keep you in the dark.”

  She deserved that consideration, he knew. She’d been quiet since they reached the RV, but had done her part, clearing the table and counter top of anything that might fall once they were in motion while he disconnected the water and electric lines; seeing to it cabinet knobs were locked and the refrigerator latched and switched over to gas for travel while he closed the slide-out. She was pale, but hadn’t clung, succumbed to hysterics or blamed him for this fast departure. For all those things, he was profoundly grateful.

  “Maybe—” she began, but stopped at once.

  He sent her a quick look. “What?”

  She set her teeth into her soft bottom lip, a move that did nothing whatever for concentration on his driving. It was a moment before she went on. “Maybe you should take me back.”

  “Back?” Lack of understanding wiped all expression from his voice.

  “To Chamelot. Or maybe to New Orleans.”

  “To see about the final arrangements for your husband, you mean.”

  “Not—not really. I keep thinking about that car back there. What if whoever was in it had seen us? What if they’d started shooting, the way the man did at the safe house?”

  “They didn’t.”

  “But what if they had? I don’t think being a human shield was part of the job description when you were delegated to look out for me.”

  He gave her a straight look. “I thought we agreed this was no longer just a job.”

  She met his eyes for endless seconds, her own unsure in the dashboard lights. Whatever she saw there did nothing to change her mind. “It’s nice of you to say so, but I’d still rather not have to worry that you might be killed because of it.”

  “You’re worried about me?”

  “Somebody needs to be if you’re going to turn all gallant every time something happens.”

  “I thought I was making sure nobody started shooting in the first place.”

  “Whatever.” She shoved her fingers into her hair and then propped her elbow on the window ledge. “Just drop me somewhere and go back where you belong, all right?”

  His laugh had a rough edge to it. “I can’t do that.”

  “Whyever not?”

  “Your safety is my responsibility. That hasn’t changed, even if the assignment has become a bit more off the record than it was before.”

  “Oh, come on. It’s not official at all.”

  “It’s as official as I want to be,” he said in hard negation.

  “Meaning if I decide to walk away next time we stop—”

  “You can’t. I won’t let you go.”

  “That’s—” She stopped and pressed her lips together, as if she couldn’t find words strong enough to blast him.

  “It’s the way it is,” he said, and turned back to his driving.

  Mandy muttered something under her breath that he didn’t quite catch. It was okay; she could call him anything she wanted. He’d had his say, and that was what mattered.

  It was a couple of hours before dawn when they pulled into the parking lot of a big discount store. T
he place was open but customers were few. The near daylight conditions created by banks of floodlights showed a big motor home and a fifth wheel rig parked to the far left side, along with an eighteen wheeler with its diesel engine on idle. Lance pulled into a slot between the other two RVs and turned off the key.

  “What are you doing?” Mandy asked, looking around in some mystification. “Why are we stopping here?”

  “It’s called hiding in plain sight.”

  “Meaning?”

  “We’re one more happy camper taking advantage of the free overnight parking offered by this discount chain.”

  “And no one is supposed to guess we’d risk parking here with the others?”

  “Exactly.” He gave her a fast smile. “Besides, we can use a few things.”

  “Such as?” As far as she could see, the refrigerator and small panty held enough food for several more days.

  “A couple of cheap cell phones, for a start.” He set the emergency brake and rose out of his seat. “Then I could go for some ice cream.”

  If the last was meant to distract her, it didn’t work. “You really think we were tracked by way of your phone?”

  “Makes more sense than anything else.” He moved toward the back to check the freezer compartment as if gauging the amount of room before turning to her again. “You want vanilla, chocolate, strawberry, or something more exotic?”

  “Surprise me.” She folded her arms across her chest.

  “Fair enough,” he said, moving to open the side door before clattering down the automatic steps, “since you’ve sure surprised me.”

  She didn’t think she was meant to hear that last bit. Or maybe she was; it was difficult to tell. A frown settled between her brows as she watched Lance walk toward the store entrance. He was alert to his surroundings, his gaze narrowed as he watched a battered pickup with a dog crate in the back pull out of a parking space. Still, he moved with an easy, long-legged gait that suggested he had not a care in the world.

  It was beyond annoying when her stomach was tied in knots.