She glanced up at him. “You used the difficult way. You built a temporal model, didn’t you? I can see your equations.”

She smoothed the paper, running her gaze over the formulas. “I worked this out last week using a spatial model. The peanut husks are concentrated under the bar stools, and I counted around one and multiplied, and around the tables, especially during the first three days after Delmar sweeps. If you notice, almost all the husks around the round tables form a donut ring that runs about one foot under the table to about twice the radius of the table.”

Trap stared at her, his heart stuttering in his chest. For the first time, he actually was completely shocked, but he shouldn’t have been.

“I just counted the husks around one chair at the four-chair table and multiplied by four to get a pretty good estimate of the total husks associated with the table.”

He leaned close. “You took the easy way out. And it isn’t very accurate.”

She raised her chin. “I did not. I did it the intelligent way.”

“Over a week’s accumulation the peanut husks turn to mulch and can’t be counted. They get kicked around…”

“I factored in the ones that fall beneath the bar and get kicked back where Delmar works. I came up with thirteen thousand, two hundred and sixty per week.” She sent him her first real smile. The kind that made a man’s cock hard. Made his heart jerk and happiness spill through his bloodstream like sunshine. She raised her green gaze to his. “Nice. You’ve got a brain.”

Hell, yeah, he had a brain. Excitement burst through Trap. He’d wondered why Whitney had paired him with Cayenne. Now he knew. She could satisfy his mind along with his body. She would be a complement to him in every way, not just in the field or in bed. She would stimulate his mind. Understand him. And he would do the same for her.

Movement had her standing, and he turned his head to see the two Comeaux brothers exiting the bar. “That’s my cue to leave. I don’t want to see you around, Trap. You stay away from me. I mean it. This is the last time we’re going to be friendly.” She moved around the far side of the table when he stood also, shaking his head.

“Damn it, Cayenne. Don’t make us enemies.”

“That’s what we are,” she whispered. “That’s the way it has to be. You don’t know the worst in me, and I don’t want you ever to know. Or to see. Or to experience.”

She hurried across the room to the door, taking his favorite jacket with her. She turned at the last minute and sent a whisper into the air. “See but not see. Hear but don’t hear.”

Instantly he felt that pull in her voice, the one he felt when he’d gone into her cell to rescue her and she’d called him to her. He was much more resistant than the others, because he didn’t allow emotions too close to the surface and her voice seemed to tap into an emotional stream. Now he knew how she kept the men in the bar from describing her.

He signaled to Wyatt and the others, although he didn’t need to. They were already disposing of their beer bottles and making for the door.

“I’ll meet you back at home,” Trap told them. “I’ve got a couple of things I have to do.”

Wyatt smirked at him. “Yeah, I’ll bet you do. The boys will take the airboat home and I’ll go with you in the Pepper. I’m thinkin’ you need a babysitter.”

He wasn’t going to stand around arguing, and when Wyatt put that smirk on his face, he was as stubborn as hell. Trap nodded and hurried out.

CHAPTER 4

The night air felt cool on Trap’s face as they hurried out of the Huracan Club and down the steps onto the dirt that fronted the building. Humidity often kept the air a little muggy, a little sultry, and the perfumes of the swamp could be cloying. The brief rain left the trees and shrubbery glistening from the half-moon’s beams. Water along the river sparkled liked diamonds.

Trap and Wyatt stayed in the shadows, holding perfectly still. Motion drew the eye and out of habit, neither moved a muscle while they carefully checked the area around them. They had enemies far worse than the Comeaux brothers and never lost their vigilance. As if by mutual consent, without a word¸ Trap stayed in the shadows covering Wyatt while the Cajun sauntered to the boat. The smaller boat was lightweight and fast, able to move easily through shallow water and speed through the deeper channels.

Wyatt was at home in the swamp and bayous. Born and raised there, he’d spent his youth hunting and fishing throughout the entire area. His home had been built from the cypress trees growing on their property – trees that withstood the water and the insects far better than anything else. The other GhostWalkers were just beginning to know their way around the waterway. Trap didn’t mind in the least sitting back and letting Wyatt take the lead.

“She warned me off, Wyatt,” Trap announced, with a small sigh.

“She kissed the heck out of you,” Wyatt pointed out.

“I kissed her,” Trap corrected.

“She kissed you back, and that kiss didn’t seem like a warnin’ to me.” Wyatt sent him another cocky grin. “Seems to me that was a ‘hello handsome’ kinda kiss. You probably didn’t recognize it, not bein’ Cajun and all.”

Trap shook his head. “She’s going to know we’re following her if you keep yapping.”

“Trap, that woman wouldn’ have stood for you puttin’ your hands on her like that if she didn’ want to kiss you. She was armed. She’s got to be venomous like Pepper and the girls. You took your life in your hands gettin’ that kiss, and she knew it and knew you knew it. She rewarded you with that kiss for your bravery.”

Trap sent Wyatt a quelling look. “Shut the hell up. You’re so full of shit.”

Wyatt laughed softly and turned his attention to maneuvering the waterway. He knew the route the Comeaux brothers would take home. They weren’t subtle or cagey. They knew no one would ever dare follow them for any reason. The Comeaux family had a reputation in the bayou. They were hard drinking and mean. More than anything else, if you tangled with one, you tangled with the entire family. They had a lot of cousins, most every bit as mean as the brothers.

“I’m not certain how she thinks she can lure them off their boat to shore,” Trap mused aloud. He didn’t care whether Wyatt heard him or not. He was trying to figure out exactly what Cayenne would do. He had to get ahead of her. His brain came up with one too many ideas. The idea of her standing naked on the shore of the island rose all too vivid in his mind to torture him.