Chapter Fourteen
THE Sunday following their wedding, Alyssa leaned against the
doorjamb of the master bedroom and watched Luc pack the last of his
suitcase. She‟d lived alone for a decade or more. Solitude had always been
a comfort. Luc had moved into her house the day after their wedding. It was
logical, given that, between his upcoming TV show and his appearances,
he‟d be traveling, while she was tied to Lafayette by the club and the
restaurant. But him living in her personal space, her making room in her
closet, bathroom, and drawers, all seemed weird. He was neater than her.
And he ironed, which was a big bonus. But for the first few days, she‟d felt
invaded—home, body, and heart.
Now, watching him prepare to leave, Alyssa had to swallow down
sadness. She was going to miss Luc, probably more than she should.
She‟d grown accustomed to seeing him in Bonheur‟s kitchens, watching
over her during Sexy Sirens‟ wee hours. Two days ago, his publicist had
released the news of their wedding. Since then, Luc had whisked her to her
car each night, tightly holding her against his side. She‟d gotten used to
him fixing her a light snack before bed, his comforting presence beside her
as she slept, inevitably waking to his delicious, addicting touch and the way
he kept her on orgasm overload.
All that would be gone for the next two weeks. Of course it wasn‟t the
end of the world, but somehow being away from him made her jittery and
anxious.
“I‟ll call you when I get in,” he promised.
“Thanks.”
“You‟re feeling okay today?”
Alyssa nodded. “A little tired, but that‟s normal.”
“Don‟t work too hard. Sadie‟s watching you for me.”
“She‟s a tattletale.” She crossed her arms over her chest in a mock
pout.
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“Which is why I chose her to keep me informed.” Luc zipped up his
suitcase and set it on the floor. “I‟ll be back to spend Thanksgiving week
with you and go to your doctor appointment the following week.”
The first meeting with her obstetrician. The first time to hear her baby‟s
heartbeat. “I appreciate you being here for me to lean on.”
He crossed the room and took her face in his hands. Determined dark
eyes bored into her. “I wouldn‟t have it any other way.”
God, when he spoke to her, in that voice, with that concern on his
face, he absolutely melted her. He must know that.
“Before I go, I have something for you.”
She stared, all frowns and confusion as he turned away and pulled
something out from behind his briefcase, which leaned against the wall. It
was a box roughly the size of a loaf of bread, wrapped in thick foil paper
that shimmered with small silver scallops. An elegant white bow topped the
gift.
Luc handed it to her. “It‟s a belated wedding gift.”
“A gift? You didn‟t have to—”
“But I wanted to.”
Swallowing down a lump of emotion, she removed the bow and tore
through the wrapping paper to reveal a plain brown box. After wrestling with
the cardboard, she pulled out the contents and gasped. Inside was a
picture frame in the shape of two silver rings entwined. On the left, a picture
of her in her wedding dress. On the right, a picture of their wedding kiss. In
the middle, where the two rings overlapped, he‟d had their first names and
their wedding date engraved.
“It‟s gorgeous!”
She almost choked on a mixture of gratitude and love. Their marriage
wasn‟t perfect. They were still getting to know each other. But Luc was
trying. She was still holding back. Then again, sometimes she caught him
staring at her, sometimes he thought too long before he answered her, and
she sensed that maybe he was too . . .
“You like it?”
Tears threatened, and she tried to blink them away. “I love it. Thank
you.”
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Luc took it from her hands. “I thought maybe you could put it here, on
the dresser.” He set it on the long, rectangular piece on the wall opposite
the bed. “That way, while I‟m gone, you could look at it.”
And think of me. He didn‟t say the words, but Alyssa heard them. Why
would he ask unless he cared, at least a little? How could she refuse him?
“That‟s perfect,” she murmured, making her way to his side and
wrapping her hand around the steely strength of his biceps.
He turned her into his arms. Softly, he kissed her mouth, and like
every other time Luc touched her, she found her will dissolving. He made
her warm and weak, enthralled her completely.
With a grunt of frustration, he pulled away. “If I do any more of that, I
won‟t make my flight. I can just see me trying to explain that I missed the
first taping because I couldn‟t manage to stop fucking my wife.”
She laughed. She‟d done so little of that in years. Luc was one
incredibly sexy man, but living with him now . . . she was beginning to see a
whole side of his humor that added a dimension to her attraction.
Every day, she fell a bit more. So damn dangerous, this bottomless pit
of feeling. And still, she couldn‟t stop.
“I don‟t need anyone blaming me for anything else. I‟ve already got
half the women of Lafayette pissed at me. Don‟t start dragging California
bigwigs into the snake pit.”
Luc smiled vaguely before his expression settled into something
serious. “I have to say something before I go. Peter‟s been quiet since he‟s
been out on bail.”
“I hope his daddy has a tight leash on him now.”
“If anything scares you—anything—don‟t hesitate to call me.”
“You‟ll be two thousand miles away. I‟ll manage. I‟m wearing my biggirl panties.”
“For big-girl panties, they always seem very . . . small.” He leered,
brushing a hand up under her skirt and cupping her bare cheek, then
sighed. “And I know you‟re self-sufficient. Photographers have been a little
annoying in the last few days, but I‟m sure they‟ll follow me to L.A., rather
than stay here to hound you. Still, if you have any trouble, call me.”
“Yes, Daddy,” she mocked.
“Am I being overprotective?” He winced.
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“A touch.”
He sighed. “I‟ll try to back off. But . . . call me if you need to. Or want
to.”
“I will. But I‟ll be fine. The baby will be fine. Bonheur, Sexy Sirens . . .
fine. It‟s only two weeks.”
“Right.” He ran his hands through her hair, then palmed her nape.
“Miss me?”
Like mad. He hadn‟t left yet, and his absence was already a gaping
hole in her heart.
Alyssa didn‟t trust her voice, didn‟t trust that she wouldn‟t reveal too
much. She simply nodded.
“And I‟ll miss you,” he whispered against her lips.
Then, after an all-too-brief kiss, he was gone. She was left staring at
his incredible gift through her stinging, watery gaze, almost afraid to be this
happy. What if it didn‟t last?
BY Wednesday at four a.m., she was frazzled. The crowd at Sexy
Sirens had been unusually rowdy tonight. She‟d fended off more male
octopi than she cared to count. Her two blessings were that Tyler never left
her side, and Peter, who‟d started lurking around the club again on
Monday, had apparently been picked up for a DUI early this afternoon so
he was back in County—and out of her hair.
Now home, she dragged herself through the front door. After not
sleeping well since Luc‟s departure and the baby sapping all her vitamins,
she needed a good eight hours‟ sleep. But damn, it was cold in here. She‟d have to turn on the heater pronto.
When she turned to disable her burglar alarm, she saw it had been
smashed with a sledgehammer. There was nothing left to disable.
Plastic pieces were strewn across the floor. Wires dangled from the
panel. The air in her house felt violated, just like her club and office at
Bonheur once had. Why the hell had she insisted to Tyler that she didn‟t
need him to escort her home?
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She didn‟t dare go upstairs alone. In fact, she needed to get out of the
house now.
Stepping back out into the dark morning, Alyssa reached for her cell
phone. Tyler answered on the first ring.
“What‟s wrong?”
“Someone broke into my house.”
Tyler swore, an ugly string of curses that made her wince. “I‟m still in
my truck. I‟ll be there in less than five. Call the police. Now.”
Whispering her agreement, she hung up the phone, and shivered in
the November chill. It had gotten too cold for her short skirts, and she
wished she‟d brought a coat. She had wonderfully warm clothes in her
closet upstairs . . . but she‟d rather freeze than risk going up there alone.
The 911 dispatcher answered quickly, and Alyssa gave her name and
address, and described the break-in, at least as much as she knew about
it.
Should she call Luc now or wait until a more reasonable hour? It was
two in the morning in L.A., and his taping always began so early each
morning, he‟d be sound asleep.
Before she could decide, Tyler pulled into her driveway with a growl of
his engine and threw the truck in park. He climbed out and grabbed her
shoulders, dragging her against him. “Are you all right?”
“Shaken. Not hurt.”
“And cold.”
Swearing, he reached inside the truck, then wrapped his coat around
her. Alyssa sighed at the sudden warmth, but her relief was short-lived.
“Show me what you found,” Tyler demanded.
“Shouldn‟t we let Remy and the boys in there for a look first?”
Honestly, she just didn‟t want to see what else the intruder had done to her
house.
“You mean preserve the crime scene because they‟re such fabulous
investigators?” Razor blades had nothing on the sharpness of his sarcasm.
“I want to see the scene for myself before they fuck it up.”
“Did you used to—?”
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“Yeah. I won‟t have time to examine the scene closely before they
barge in, but I can look.” He pulled out a pair of leather gloves from the
truck. “Let‟s make this quick.”
Alyssa‟s insides shook as she led Tyler back in the house. The
questions about his past could wait.
Inside the dim interior, she flipped on the foyer light, as she‟d done
when she first entered the house. Tyler looked at the alarm panel, studying
it with a clenched jaw. “Fuck. Was this as far as you got in the house before
leaving?”
“I was too afraid to stay, in case the pissed-off intruder was still here
with his friend, Mr. Hammer.”
“Especially if he also brought other friends, like Misters Knife or Gun,”
Tyler muttered grimly. “Good girl.”
From the back of his waistband, Tyler pulled out a nasty
semiautomatic. Alyssa stared, wide-eyed.
“Where did you get that?”
“My truck. I don‟t make a production about the fact I have it. Stay
behind me,” he instructed as he made his way up the dark stairs.
He shouldered open the first door on the left, the guest room, and
flipped on the light. “Anything look disturbed?”
Alyssa peeked over his shoulder. Everything looked exactly as she‟d
left it that afternoon. In fact, it had a vaguely stale smell, as if no one had
opened the door in weeks, which was true.
Tyler extinguished the light and rolled his shoulders, as if trying to get
calm. He crept toward her exercise room, gun drawn. The door was still
wide-open, as it had been after she‟d finished her morning workout.
Inside, he groped around for the light switch. A moment later, soft
overhead light illuminated the space. Everything was the same: punching
bag dangling from the ceiling, stair climber, free weights. Even the
remnants of this morning‟s bottle of water remained on the windowsill.
“Nothing,” she murmured.
“Good.” He sighed as he switched off the light, clearly trying to find his
calm.
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“Maybe when the alarm went off, he smashed it in frustration, then
took off.” But even as she said the words, she knew that someone had
been up here. She felt it—and the resulting fear.
Tyler just grimaced, as if he didn‟t want to scare her with the truth.
She chewed on her bottom lip nervously. “I don‟t know why it didn‟t
alert the police.”
“I‟m going guess this asshole snipped your phone line before he broke
into your house, cutting your connection to the police.” Tyler sounded grim.
“If you don‟t have detectors on your windows, he probably cut a hole in the
glass and climbed in.”
“Which is why it‟s so cold in the house.” Nausea slid through her.
“Exactly. Then he probably disabled the audible alarm system in your
attic. That way, no matter what he did next, he never had to worry about
alerting your neighbors. Then I‟ll bet he pounded your alarm panel just for
fun.”
“Would a run-of-the-mill burglar do all that?”
He shook his head, then turned to trek down the hall, toward her
bedroom. “They usually prefer something simpler. Open windows are an
engraved invitation. But that‟s not to say they won‟t do whatever necessary
to get past your fancy equipment if they think you‟ve got something of great
value.”
“B-but I don‟t. I never bothered to buy a flat-panel TV. My laptop is at
Bonheur. I don‟t keep cash in the house. I don‟t have much jewelry.”
“And you‟ve been wearing your wedding rock, so it wasn‟t lying around
the house.”
So Tyler had noticed her ring. And his grousing voice didn‟t sound
thrilled in the least. Then again, she wasn‟t surprised.
As Tyler opened the master bedroom, he paused. “Light switch?”
“On the wall to your right, closer to the bathroom.”
He hesitated, then shook his head. “Too far in the dark. Just in case . .
.”
Edging away from her bedroom, he backtracked to the guest bathroom
in the hallway and switched on the little room‟s bright lights. The beam of
illumination drifted across the hardwood floor of the hallway and cast gray
shadows just inside the doorway of her room.
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“Wait here.” Tyler‟s voice made it clear that his demand wasn‟t up for
negotiation.
Terror pulsed in her stomach. She had the worst feeling that whatever
she found was going to crush her, scare her in a way that the notes affixed
with knives never had. Heart racing, she pressed her lips together so she
didn‟t pant and alert Tyler to the fact she was right behind him.
“You‟re not following directions.”
Alyssa ignored him until he thrust out an arm. “Fucking wait outside
the doorway. And get out of my light.”
Reluctantly, she stepped aside, peering around the door. A moment
later, Tyler flipped the light on.
He revealed complete disaster, and she screamed.
Luc‟s clothes had been piled in the middle of the bedroom, torn to
shreds, then doused in red paint. The linens had been yanked from the
mattress and strewn across the floor, again ripped in a fit of fury and
drenched in crimson. It was all over her carpet, her bedroom walls. She
could feel the rage of whoever had done this. The act had been deeply
personal, his silent act of war.
“Who would do this?” Her voice shook, and she clutched her stomach,
wondering if she was going to lose her dinner.
“Peter would be my first choice.”
“He‟s in County right now.”
A grim frown crossed Tyler‟s face. “Primpton?”
“He just wants to shut me down. For that, he needs to publicly discredit
me, not scare me. Invading my personal space doesn‟t accomplish a damn
thing.”
“Maybe he‟s just hoping to run you out of town?”
“I‟m sure he‟d love that, but he should know better after eighteen
months of bitching.” She shook her head. Primpton doing this didn‟t feel
right.
“True . . . but he‟s the only suspect we‟ve got, unless you can think of
another slighted customer who would be this pissed at you.”
“No.”
Alyssa kept taking in the devastation in the room with her mouth
agape. Her perfume bottles were everywhere, most broken, and the room
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smelled like a horrific mix of flowers and chemicals that nearly made her
sick. He‟d piled a bunch of her lingerie in the middle of the naked bed, and
as she approached it, the sight got even more revolting.
“Oh, my God. Th-that‟s semen.”
Instantly, Tyler was at her side, staring at the thick white ejaculate
some sick freak had sprayed all over her lingerie.
Alyssa put a hand over her mouth and turned away. Now she really
was going to throw up.
But her eyes landed on something silver on the carpet, barely sticking
out from under the comforter. Fear and denial turbocharging her heart, she
ran to it and reached out to grab it.
“No!” Tyler growled, then pulled her back before she could clutch the
object. “You can‟t touch anything. Let me.”
Gingerly with his thumb and forefinger, he lifted the downy comforter
enough for Alyssa‟s worst fears to be confirmed: Someone had destroyed
Luc‟s wedding gift to her. The photo of their wedding kiss had been ripped
into little pieces. The terrible intruder had splashed red paint on the picture
frame. It dripped down the engraving. She sobbed and reached out for it,
wanting the frame restored so badly she ached.
Tyler wrapped his arms around her middle, forcing her arms to her
sides. “You can‟t.”
“B-but Luc gave this to me.” Sick, shuddering, shaking sobs poured
forth and she doubled over, unable to look at the devastation anymore.
Tyler pulled her back against his chest, his palm over her abdomen,
his lips at her ear. “It‟s okay. We‟ll fix everything. Honey, don‟t make
yourself sick over this. It‟s not good for you.”
Or the baby. She knew that, but the shock and fear crashing through
her system, combined with exhaustion and the noxious scents, had her on
overload.
“Shh,” he soothed.
She just shook her head. “I can‟t.”
“You have to get it together. Remy and the boys will be here soon.
Let‟s go.”
Alyssa gave him a miserable nod, and Tyler dragged her to her feet.
Her knees nearly didn‟t support her, but she forced herself to stay upright.
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Tyler dropped the comforter, slightly away from the ruined picture
frame, revealing the last and worst of the horrors. The picture of her in her
wedding dress had been ripped from the frame, and he‟d left her a
message that made her scream herself into a black abyss.
ALYSSA was missing. Pacing his Los Angeles hotel room before
dawn, Luc tried her house and cell numbers again. No answer at either and
no voice mail at the former. Sadie had been unable to locate her at
Bonheur or the club. Remy could only tell him that Alyssa had made a 911
call and reported that someone had broken into her house. And that by the
time the sheriff and his deputy arrived, her car was there . . . but she was
nowhere in sight.
Had someone abducted her? What if someone other than Peter had
left those threatening notes and taken her?
The term “cold sweat” had a whole new meaning for him as he shoved
the last of his belongings in his suitcase.
An hour ago, he‟d called Jack Cole, who had immediately started the
hunt for Alyssa. Jack had called a few minutes ago to say that, so far, he‟d
found nothing. And Luc felt helpless in Los Angeles. If Alyssa was missing .
. . The taping of the show was important, but not more than finding her and
the baby.
The only other person his wife knew that he hadn‟t spoken with yet
was Tyler. Alyssa would go to him; the bouncer made her feel safe. But
what else did he make her feel? Would she really fuck the baby‟s biological
father mere hours after Luc turned his back? He didn‟t have an answer, but
Luc knew Tyler would be only too happy to have Alyssa in his bed again.
Still, the jealous clenching of his gut was better than thinking a madman
had gotten his hands on her.
But both options sucked.
Swearing, Luc grabbed his phone again and called Jack. “Anything
new?”
“Sorry, man.” Jack‟s voice. “I checked the hospitals. Nothing.”
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Closing his eyes, Luc tamped down panic, fearing that, one way or
another, he‟d lost Alyssa. “Keep looking. Please. I‟m on my way to the
airport. I‟ll call Sadie again, see if she can track Tyler down. I‟ll catch the
first flight back I can.”
After more murmured sympathy from Jack, he hung up and made the
call to Sadie he dreaded. She answered right away.
“I checked with Brandy,” the dancer said. “She hasn‟t heard from
Alyssa.”
Luc pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting off the headache he knew
stemmed from lack of sleep. When he hadn‟t been able to reach his wife in
the wee hours of the morning, he‟d been unable to go to sleep. No way
he‟d be able to rest until he knew what the hell was going on.
“What about Tyler?”
“I called. No answer. I‟d drive by his place . . . but I don‟t know where
he lives. He‟s never been interested in socializing with anyone but Alyssa.”
Socializing? Luc barely held in a grunt. If Tyler had Alyssa, Luc bet the man was doing something far more personal to his wife.
Thanking the dancer, Luc hung up and called Jack again as he
grabbed a taxi to the airport. “Can you find an address for a guy named
Tyler Murphy? He‟s new to Lafayette.”
“Alyssa‟s bouncer? Yeah. Give me a few and I‟ll call you back.”
Gratified that Jack was on his side, Luc tried Alyssa again. No
response. He left a message on his producer‟s cell phone, indicating that
his wife was missing and he was on his way back to Louisiana.
Traffic was light before six a.m. As soon as Luc hit the airport and
cleared security, his phone was ringing. His heart stopped. Hope was a
nasty spike of adrenaline. Until he looked at his display. Jack.
“Talk to me.”
“There‟s no record of a Tyler Murphy living in Lafayette. At least no
one with a driver‟s license living in the area between the ages of twenty-five
and forty. Checked the surrounding areas, too.”
Luc‟s blood ran cold. “What does that mean?”
“Either Mr. Murphy hasn‟t updated his license since moving to the
area, which he‟s supposed to do within thirty days, and as a former cop he
should know it.”
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“Yeah, he‟s been there about four months. What‟s the „or‟?” But Luc
feared he knew the answer.
“Or the man isn‟t who he claims to be.”
Fuck! Maybe her buddy Tyler had been threatening her all along.
Getting her pregnant was probably just an added kick on his sick freak
agenda.
As Luc boarded the plane, he tried Alyssa one more time. No answer.
Luc didn‟t want to think this but . . . what was he going to do without her?
That question haunted him for the next five hours, along with chilling
regret. In that moment, he‟d take back the anger, his snide comments,
cross words, anything that had made her cry. He replayed their final night
at Sexy Sirens, right before Peter‟s attack, in his head and wondered how
the fuck he could have been such a prick while he‟d cooked for Bonheur‟s
opening. She‟d been nothing but honest about the kind of woman she was,
and he‟d treated her with contempt. All because he‟d been too afraid to
admit how much he loved her. Because he‟d feared he was forming an
attachment to someone who would make him choose between his heart
and his dreams—and he‟d punished her.
As his plane touched down in Lafayette, Luc had to restrain himself
from charging out of his seat as they taxied to the gate. Quickly, he
checked his cell phone for messages. Nothing.
But one thought hit him like a ton of bricks: Not once during the long
plane trip had he thought of the baby. His every thought, fear, and prayer
had been for Alyssa.
JACK met Luc at the baggage claim, Hunter in tow. A cold sweat
flattened him. Had they come to tell him the worst?
“What‟s going on?” Luc demanded.
“Nothing new has happened.” Jack stuck out his hand, and Luc shook
it, trembling with overpowering relief. Alyssa might not be safe yet, but at
least she hadn‟t been found dead.
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“We‟re still following clues,” Hunter offered. “The sheriff here is an
idiot.”
Kimber‟s brother looked as though he might have thawed toward Luc.
Maybe. In his assessment of Remy, Luc agreed.
“We came to pick you up.” Jack looked at the baggage carousel. “Got
bags?”
“Carried on,” he told Jack. “You didn‟t have to come here. I have a
car.”
Jack raised a dark brow. “Sleep any in the last twenty-four hours? Able
to get your mind off of Alyssa at all?”
Luc sent the man a bullish glare. Hell, no, and both he and Hunter
knew it. “Then take me to the house. I want to see it.”
The two men glanced at each other. Luc saw instantly they were
against that plan.
“Unless you have a strong stomach and can absolutely say you won‟t
fly into a rage, I don‟t recommend that,” Jack finally said.
The first . . . usually. The latter, no. He was already pissed.
“Lay it on me straight. Did there look to be signs of a struggle? Remy
wouldn‟t say a damn thing.”
“No. At least I don‟t think so. But the psycho‟s parting shot didn‟t leave
me with a warm fuzzy.”
Luc‟s heart stopped. “Parting shot? He left something behind?”
Jack grimaced. “Alyssa‟s wedding photo covered in red paint with the
words DEAD WHORE.”
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