Page 136
Shaking the water off himself, he lets out a howl, and Luc tosses him another beer.
I take a seat beside Céleste, wrapping my arm around her, as she tucks herself into my side.
Back at Luc’s, a few of the neighbors’ pop in for a crawfish boil, all of us gathered around a picnic table lined in newspapers, over which hundreds of spicy Valir crawfish have been scattered with corn and red potatoes. The music and laughter takes me back to my youth, as I quietly watch Luc show Céleste how to pinch the tail and suck the heads, just like our grandparents taught us.
In some ways, I miss these simple days, hanging out with Luc out on the water all afternoon, drinking with friends in the evening. Not a care in the world. But I feel as if I’m watching through the eyes of a stranger now. A man no longer welcome at the table. One who’s spent too many years doing despicable things, while everyone else has enjoyed life.
How quickly the days of innocent fun faded to a pitch blackness that I’ve been blindly navigating ever since.
Once everyone leaves, I take Céleste by the hand, leading her to a narrow walkway across the swamp, a wooden bridge, where cypress trees stand at either side and the sound of bullfrogs, owls, and insects add a peaceful soundtrack to the surrounding darkness. A place where Luc and I used to sit until nightfall, fishing, sipping Cokes, and talking about girls.
Céleste and I settle down onto the bridge, legs hanging over the edge of it beneath where the moon sits high in the sky. Not quite full, but bright enough that we don’t need a flashlight to see.
“I think this was the best day of my life.” Head tipped back, she smiles, looking up toward the moon. “Can’t remember the last time I laughed this much.”
“Luc knows how to pass a good time.”
“It’s not just Luc. It’s this place. It’s everything. Feels like being home again. I’ve forgotten what that feels like.”
It hasn’t been home to me for a long time, but even I can’t deny the nostalgia of this afternoon. Feelings I’ve had to tuck away for a long time just to deal with the shit-show my life has become over the years.
The call from Julio was, I suspect, a test. A means to feel out whether, or not, I have the girl, and to separate me from her. The job itself is fairly simple, if not rife with danger. Apparently, tensions between the cartels is at an all-time high right now, and as a result, some prominent figures and kidnappings have been going down in Mexico. In an effort to keep the capo’s daughter safe, I’m to pick her, Verónica, up as she comes in from Matamoros, and bring her to Julio’s, where she’ll be guarded around the clock until things settle. The transport has been kept low-key, and Julio doesn’t want to draw attention by sending an entourage to fetch her. But she’s a target, nonetheless.
And the less Céleste knows, the better.
The smile on her face fades. “This isn’t my home, though, is it? How can anywhere be home, when you don’t actually exist to the world? Here, I’m nothing but a girl caught on camera at a crime scene. A ghost story, and nothing more.”
“Non, you’re more than that, chère.” Curling my palm around her neck, I draw her to me, tangling my fingers in her soft curls and losing myself in her kiss. “You’re my favorite ghost story,” I whisper against her lips.
I strip her down naked and lie back, letting her ride my dick, use me, watching her head tip back, her lip slide between her teeth, with the backdrop of the moon and stars. Warm fluids leak down my thighs as she brings herself to climax while wearing the blush of satisfaction. I reach out to cup her cheek, and something aches inside my chest. A gnawing, twisting pain, like a steel blade winding through flesh. At first, I think it’s a heart attack coming on, and wouldn’t that be fitting, but it isn’t.
It’s her.
So fucking beautiful, it hurts.
La lune. Les étoiles. Ma Céleste.
The moon. The stars. My Céleste.
It’s here, in this moment, that a ludicrous thought enters my mind, and I realize what lengths I would go to, to keep her.
I would take on the most dangerous cartel in Mexico for this woman.
39
Céleste
The smell of sausage, along with sizzles and popping sounds, rouse me out of dreams. Pushing up onto an elbow, I rub the sleep from my eyes, and find Luc standing with his broad back to me, wearing only a pair of shorts, and his ball cap turned around.
Sending a quick glance over his shoulder, he winks. “Mornin’ sleepy! How’s some breakfast sound?”
The clock beside me shows it’s seven-thirty in the morning. Thierry must’ve left super early. Only a vague recollection of him planting a quick kiss to my cheek, before slipping out the door, gives me that impression, otherwise, it could’ve easily been a dream.
While the couch is certainly better than most places I’ve slept in my life--and with the fresh sheets and pillows, it was even comfortable--it was nowhere near as luxurious as the bed I’ve slept in for the last week and a half. With a groan, I fall back onto the pillow and bury my face in the cotton. “It’s too early for breakfast, Luc. Especially your monster sandwiches.”
“You gon’ sleep half da day away, chère.”
“Not half. Just … a quarter maybe.”
