Page 22 of Vapor

The question is, does he feel even a fraction of this yearning, or is it all one-sided? That’s the only thing I want to know, but I suspect that’s not why he followed me into the maze. He wants answers, and I’d better start giving them to him.

Chapter 6: Vapor

Blue is otherworldly in the pale moonlight. Her silky green dress caresses her slight curves in all the right places. Her auburn hair, pinned up by a sparkling emerald comb, brushes her bare shoulders. The off-the-shoulder neckline of her dress highlights her collarbones, making me want to leave a trail of kisses along each ridge. Even in my most vivid fantasies, she’s never been this stunning.

“How long can you be away before you’ll be missed?” I ask, sitting beside her on the bench inside the gazebo.

“Twenty minutes. Maybe thirty if Father and Broussard are occupied by their business partners. Did you go to Black Snake Bayou?”

“I did.”

“And did you save the girls?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, thank God.” She presses her hand over her heart and closes her eyes for a moment.“I was so worried.”

“About them?” I ask because I’m curious. Did she know that she was sending me into a potentially deadly situation? And if she knew, did she care about my safety?

“Yes, the girls and you too. Did you go alone?”

“I brought my men with me.”

“Was anyone hurt? Where are the girls? Somewhere safe?” She leans forward slightly. I want to close the distance between us and press my arm against hers, but I hold back. She has information I need. I can’t let my dick take over until I find out everything she knows.

“Who told you about the cartel’s handoff?”

“No one.” She lowers her voice so much that I have to struggle to make out what she’s saying.“I overheard my father and Broussard talking in his study.”

“Why tell me? Why not call the cops?”

“The police?” She laughs at a normal, conversational volume.“Are you kidding me? They’re in on it.”

“What do you mean?” My spine stiffens.

“It’s all so complicated.” She rubs her palms over her skirt before dropping her hands back into her lap.

“Start from the beginning. When did you first hear about the girls?”

“A week ago. I wanted to tell someone, I swear. But I don’t have anyone I can confide in. At least no one who could do anything about it. Then I heard about your meeting with Broussard.”

“Your fiancé,” I say.

“Ugh! Please don’t say that.” She grimaces.

“Why not?”

“Because he’s not… the wedding isn’t my choice.”

“What are you talking about?” I’m thoroughly confused now. She’s not making any sense.

“My father promised Broussard that I’d marry him as soon as I turned twenty-one. My birthday is in three months. Well, two months and three weeks now.”

“The end of August?”

“Yes. The thirty-first.” Her already fair skin turns chalky white.

“Can’t you just refuse? This isn’t Victorian England or some shit. Your father can’t force you to marry him.”