Savage Nature - Christine Feehan [100]
Pauline stepped aside to allow him entrance. Evan, already in the room, stood just to the right of the large living area, gun loose but ready in his hands. His gaze met Drake’s over the top of Pauline’s head and flicked to his left, toward the corner Drake didn’t have a visu on. His hand signed subtly. Pauline was not alone. Drake forced his body to straighten and he stepped just a little ahead of Saria, sweeping her back with one arm, signaling Jerico with another subtle hand movement as he did so.
Saria didn’t protest, nor make a big deal out of it. He loved that about her. She had a measure of trust in him he wasn’t altogether certain he deserved yet, but he was determined to live up to it.
“He definitely has heroic tendencies, Miss Pauline,” Saria chattered, as if Drake just hadn’t signaled possible danger.
She’d read him, he knew she had, but she didn’t miss a beat. His heart swelled with pride. The more he was around her, the more he knew absolutely that she was the one. She would stand with him, no matter the danger, or the hard times. Saria Boudreaux was the kind of woman a man kept forever.
He stepped past Pauline, already turning to face whoever was hidden behind the corner. The scent of blood and sweat hit him immediately, providing identification. Amos Jeanmard lay on the sofa, an ice pack pressed to one cheek, his chest heavily bandaged. He didn’t bother to try to get up, obviously very conscious of Evan’s weapon. The barrel was down, but still pointed in his direction.
Joshua came in through the kitchen, gun ready, his gaze on Jeanmard. He signaled all clear to Drake.
“Jeanmard,” Drake greeted.
“Lickin’ my wounds and lettin’ my woman fuss over me a bit,” Jeanmard said. “You hit like a freight train.”
Drake nudged Saria. “See that? His woman fusses over him. She doesn’t call him a big baby,” he whispered, overly loud.
Jeanmard snorted. “You won’ be gettin’ sympathy from me. I tried to get you out of it, but you went all Rambo on me. Now you’re stuck with her.” He grinned, self-satisfied. “Me? I’m retirin’ on the front porch and rockin’ with my woman.”
Pauline pushed past Drake and sank down in a chair opposite Amos. “I put supper out after I tended to Amos, so please feel free to eat. I’m sure you’re all hungry.”
Joshua nodded. “Thanks, ma’am.”
“Don’t think for one moment I believe your crap, Jeanmard,” Drake said, towering over him, hands on hips. “You knew exactly how I’d react. You played me. You and Remy.”
Jeanmard grinned at him. “Not Remy. I knew either you or Remy would come at me. I wasn’t expectin’ such a violent attack and thought I could put on a bit of a show before handin’ over the reins. Instead, I think you broke all my ribs.”
Drake glanced at Jerico and then to Joshua. Both shook their heads. The house and grounds were clear of any enemy. Jeanmard was alone. Drake signed his crew they could stand down and eat. They sent him a small, taunting grin, knowing he had gotten himself in over his head here in the Louisiana swamp—for a woman. He wouldn’t be living it down any time soon.
“Take a seat before you fall down,” Jeanmard suggested. “There’s no need to play the tough guy around me. I’ve felt you hit and I’m already suitably impressed.”
Drake might have believed him if he hadn’t caught the note of laughter and knew he’dn played for a sucker. The old man had wanted out and he’d found a sure way to do it. “I might have killed you,” he pointed out, sinking down into one of Pauline’s comfortable chairs. It felt a little like heaven to him.
“I’ll get you some food,” Saria offered.
He caught her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. She was worth it, although a little sympathy might have added to the deal. He felt Jeanmard’s scrutiny and let her hand slide away. “You’ve got a few problems here, Jeanmard.”
The older man gave a small derisive laugh. “Actually, there are a lot of problems, but they’re all yours now, not mine. The broken ribs are worth it. And call me Amos.”
Drake glanced at Pauline. She hadn’t said a word, but she obviously knew Drake and Jeanmard