The stubborn part of me wants to tell him to go to hell. To take off with his gun and go find my truck. That’s what sixteen-year-old Céleste would’ve done. I’d like to think that twenty-year-old Céleste is a slight bit wiser, and a hell of a lot more curious, so I do what he says, taking in the weight of cold steel against my palm as I turn my back to him.
As the world flicks to blackness, he gives one good tug that tightens the fabric over my eyes.
“You know, it’s not like I’d know where you’re taking me, anyway. The swamp is a foreign, creepy place where strange creatures dwell.”
“Then, I suspect you’ll feel at home.”
“You better have a smile on your face right now, Bergeron. Remember … I have a gun.”
With a gentle prod, he nudges me forward, and I toe the edge of the boat, one hand clutched tight to his. His grip is strong, warm, and when he places his other hand at my waist, guiding me down into the boat, a strange feeling washes over me. Something I haven’t felt in a long time. I’d most liken it to trust, but for many of the people in my life, that comes too hard-earned to give so freely. So, no, not trust, per se, but maybe comfort. A noticeable contrast to the tension that winds me up when he pisses me off, this is much calmer. Oddly pleasant.
He’s a thief and a gambler.
Yes, but Russ was all those, and an alcoholic to boot, and I came to trust him more than anyone else in my life.
Once settled onto the bench-like seat, I grip the edge, waiting in pitch blackness. Scuffling sounds along the dock give his proximity, and the slight wobble of the boat tells me when he’s stepped down onto its deck.
I imagine the quiet that follows is his loosening the rope I saw attached earlier. “So, the cooler. What’s really inside of it?”
More shuffling around, and at the slight squeal of a lid opening, a recognizably strong odor hits my senses. Flinching away, I crinkle my nose. “Oh, God. Fish?”
“For Moses.”
“Who’s Moses?”
“You’ll see.” Motor fired up, the boat lurches into a wide arc, and I tip my head back for the welcomed breeze. It’s odd that the most disruptive noise is the water itself, and not the motor across from me. Perhaps the quietest boat I’ve ever been on.
The gun sits somewhat loosely in my hands. My fingers are constantly aware of the trigger, though, while the skiff hums along the water’s surface.
“So … Céleste.” The sound of my real name rolls off his tongue with just a hint of that Valir accent, like the singe of silk against molten steel, sending a fluttery sensation to my stomach. Maybe he spoke it accidentally. Either way, I like it. “You were born here. On Chevalier?”
Even the island’s name sounds ten times sexier when he says it.
“Yes.” Choosing my words carefully is going to be critical with this one, as I’d bet he has a knack for details, and one slip up might call me out.
“And you grew up here until what age?”
“Not quite a teenager.”
“Your family’s from here?”
“I thought the game was I tell, you tell.”
“This isn’t a game, chère. It’s called conversation.”
“Is that how you make your unwitting victims feel comfy?”
The sound of his chuckle reaches my ear, and through the darkness of the blindfold, I focus on the deep, rich tone that resonates into the pause that follows.
“This place you’re taking me … it’s where you live, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“And is there a Mrs. Rougarou?”
Not a trace of humor, or hesitation, in his voice when he answers, “No.”
“You’re very particular about who you bring back to your place.”
“Yes.”
“So, if I’d have taken you up on your offer, then.”
“I’d have rented a room.”
“Strange how fate works, isn’t it? And since everything is all booked up, you’d have fucked me … where? In your big truck?”
“Most likely. That, or my office.”
“How romantic.” Behind the darkness of the blindfold, I try not to imagine the things he might’ve whispered in my ear, in that lazy Valir drawl, while having me bent over his uncluttered desk. “So, what gives? Is my hair too greasy? Did I burp in front of you without realizing it? Why the sudden lack of interest?”
“The game changed.”
“Which translates to: you don’t fuck girls with targets on their backs.”