“Unless I try to step out the front door.”
“My point exactly.”
He could see her frustration. “I believe you,” she said finally. “I brought Soledad there, didn’t I?”
“Speaking of whom, she’s been wandering around the place when she was told to stay put. Remy isn’t having any of it, and he can be an absolute bastard when he wants to be, and they’ve all had to be on high alert since they heard what happened to your home. We need you to keep her under control.”
“Home?” she echoed dully, and he could see she was thinking about the bomb. Who the hell could have set it, and why? What was Ms. Parker mired in so deep that people were determined to take her out? He tended to be on the sides of the victims, but with Jenny Parker he wasn’t sure which she was, an innocent or the devious target of a rival group of criminals. If she’d been involved in the trafficking, surely he would have come up with a trace of evidence by now—he’d been looking hard enough. All he had was circumstantial—her appearance just as they were raiding the ship, her speed in settling the victims so they couldn’t answer questions. He hated liars, and Jenny Parker was lying to him.
“Don’t think about it.” There was no sympathy in his crisp voice. “Denial is more than a river in Egypt, and it can come in handy on occasion.”
“You just don’t want a crying female all over the place,” Jenny said, sounding morose enough to be believable. Almost.
“You’re right. I’m going to find out who’s behind the attacks. I’m going to find out everything. And your cooperation would help.”
“Like what?”
“Like telling me what you were really doing on the ship that day, and why that phone is totally different from the one I found when I searched your purse.”
“You did what?” she said, outraged.
“Don’t get your knickers in a twist. The purse and the cell phone are gone anyway. They blew up with your house.”
“Nice of you to remind me.”
“So why the different phone?”
It might have been a trick of the moonlight, but she looked a little sick. “I upgraded mine—is that a crime?”
“No. I just wouldn’t have pegged you as such a devoted football fan.”
She looked confused. Score one for him. “What do you mean?”
“The New Orleans Saints case on the old phone.”
She let out a sigh. “Everyone who lives in New Orleans loves the Saints,” she said. “So what? Exactly what are you accusing me of?”
“Not a damned thing. Not yet.” She wouldn’t be fooled by his almost affable tone. Ms. Parker was no fool.
“I’m worried about Soledad,” she said, changing the subject.
“We’ll head back when it gets light—even hired killers need to sleep, and it’s the safest time.”
“Since you’ve gotten rid of our stolen car, how do you intend to get us there?”
She wasn’t arguing about coming back, he thought. He was expecting her to put up more of a fight. Again, suspicious behavior that had no explanation.
“Wilson will bring a car out to get us.” He took a step closer, and she backed up, almost imperceptibly. He caught her arm. “Watch it! That railing is weak, and you don’t need to go feed yourself to the gators to get away from me. Have I ever made a single pass at you?” Which had been easier when she wasn’t wearing that filmy dress.
“No,” she said warily. “You don’t even like me.”
He didn’t bother to correct her. She was too close. He could smell Doc Gentry’s herbal soap on her warm skin, feel the rapid increase in her pulse. She wasn’t immune to him either, unless he simply frightened her. He was trying to, but it was more than that.
He could pull her closer to him, wrap his arm around that warm body with the mysterious curves and shadows, tilt her face up to his, and kiss her. He could strip that gown off her and take her against the rickety railing; he could get the truth out of her one way or another and he really wanted it to be this way.
In his experience women knew when a man wanted them, even if it was only subconscious, but he had no intention of giving her any proof.
“Sit down before you fall down,” he said, releasing her arm, and she dropped back into the nearest rocker. “Stay put.”