FORBIDDEN LOVE Page 2

  “About that, Father, I don’t think you should count on me—”

  “Count on you?” Julian interrupted. "Of course I must count on you. What in God’s name could interrupt such a simple task?”

  “Murder,” answered a cool voice, and Hawk turned to see the blonde goddess with the bad attitude walk through the door.

  The housekeeper followed closely on her heels. “I’m sorry, Mr. Charbonnet. She pushed right past me.”

  “It’s all right, Mary. I’ll take care of this.” Julian said and then waited until the maid left before he continued. “What is the meaning of this, Detective? Has the Généreux Police Department become so corrupt that they no longer need permission to enter a citizen’s home? Or is it that you’ve paid off a judge and have a search warrant?” He held out his hand as if waiting to receive the legal order.

  “Funny, Julian,” Danielle said. “I didn’t realize I needed your invitation, too. Isn’t your son authorized to act as your agent? I’m here because I was invited.”

  “Yes, well, we were just getting to that part, Father,” Hawk said. “As I was saying, Constantine and I were interrupted by Detective Delacroiux, who has some questions relating to a homicide. As I don’t feel it wise to discuss such matters out in the open, nor was I interested in the Généreux Police Department’s hospitality, I asked Detective Delacroiux if she would mind stopping by here in order to ask her questions.

  To Danielle, he said, “May I get you something to drink, Detective?” Christ, she was beautiful. Long blonde hair, blue eyes lighter than a summer sky, the faintest brush of freckles across her upturned nose. And so goddamn sure of herself. She would make a dangerous enemy. He needed to find out what made her tick.

  “I’m not here to socialize, Mr. Charbonnet. Do you recognize this man?” She held out several pictures and waited for him to take them.

  “There’s always time to socialize with a beautiful woman.” He toasted her with his glass, then he looked down at her hand and realized what she had in mind. Clever woman. “You wouldn’t by chance be trying to get me to handle those photographs as a method of obtaining my fingerprints without my permission, would you, sugar?”

  She had the grace to flush slightly, but never looked away. He loved that.

  “All right, I’ll spread them on the table for you. Any reason you don’t want me to have your prints, Mr. Charbonnet?”

  “No reason other than principle, Detective, and please, call me Hawk. I don’t want there to be any confusion about which Charbonnet you’re addressing.”

  “Like father, like son,” she muttered, just loud enough to be heard. With a tight smile, she asked again, “What about it? Recognize him?”

  Hawk looked down and saw four pictures of a painfully thin and wizened man. In two of the photographs, he was sitting near a cardboard shelter, wearing a dark watch cap and fatigue jacket, and grinning despite having no front teeth. In the third photograph, he looked clean and sober as he pushed a broom at a shelter.

  She was good. He would give her that. Although she had fanned the pictures when she’d tried to hand them to him, the fourth photograph was covered by the others and had remained so when she’d spread them onto the coffee table. He used the nail of his index finger to push the other photos aside. He kept his face impassive as he stared at the fourth image, the death shot. The same man, looking tiny and shriveled, curled on his side with a knife sticking out of his back.

  Hawk looked up from the photographs. “I’m sorry. I don’t recognize him. Who was he?”

  She ignored his question and turned to his father. “How about you, Julian? Recognize him?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Julian replied. “I would have no reason to know someone like that. Now, I believe we have answered your questions, Detective. I’d like you to go.”

  “Now, there’s no need to roll up the welcome mat,” Hawk drawled, deliberately thickening his Texas accent. The remark drew scowls from both his father and Danielle. “Do you have any other questions, Detective?”

  “Did you see anyone else at the Pier when you were speaking with Constantine?” she asked.

  “I saw several people. Unfortunately, I didn’t recognize any of them. I wouldn’t, you know. I’ve not spent much time here in Généreux and only arrived back in town yesterday. I was raised in England and primarily make my home in London and travel frequently between there and Houston.”

  “Well, I hope you don’t plan on leaving anytime soon. Will you be staying here?” She looked around the room as if suddenly aware of her surroundings.

  “Sugar, that sounds as if you might be interested in more than what I may or may not have witnessed. I’m afraid I make it a strict policy never to date cops.”

  Danielle gathered the photographs in one hand and swept her hair back with the other. “Shut up, Hawk Charbonnet,” she said mildly, but he thought he caught the hint of a smile before she dipped her head and let a shimmering fall of blonde silk hide her face.

  ****

  An hour later, Dani had repeated her performance at Constantine’s with similarly unspectacular results. Now she sat alone at her desk, updating the murder book and wondering what in the hell Hawk Charbonnet was doing in town. Was Julian trying to replace Peter with another son? It had been a year since the eldest Charbonnet son slammed his pick up into a live oak going ninety miles an hour. There were plenty of rumors the death wasn’t an accident. Some believed the man committed suicide after discovering some of the more unsavory aspects of his father’s business—other’s believed Peter was a more direct victim of Julian Charbonnet. Unfortunately, rumors didn’t carry any evidential weight.

  She looked up when the door to the squad room opened, and was surprised to see Hawk standing there. He’d changed into a black polo and his long legs were covered in yards of faded blue denim. Delicious. Dangerous. And definitely a man with something on his mind.

  “Detective Delacroiux, I wonder if I might have a word with you in private?”

  “Right here is pretty private, Charbonnet,” she said, looking around the empty room. “What do you want?”

  “Please, call me Hawk, and no, I don’t think this will do. It would feel too much like an official interview. What I have to tell you is off the record for now, although I understand perfectly you may choose to use it later. Have you eaten yet? If you’ll have dinner with me, I think I can add some information to your investigation.”

  Dani leaned back in her chair, saying nothing, just studying the man in front of her. There was a new tenseness in his jaw and a slight tremor to his hands. He needed to get something off his chest, and he wasn’t happy about it.

  “I’m going to read your rights to you before this conversation goes further. Hawk Charbonnet, you have the right to remain silent…”

  ****

  They sat across from each other at her mémé Lina’s place, Delacroiux Pub, otherwise known as Della’s to the locals. Dani loved the red-checker-clothed tables and the brass trim on the bar and booths. Della’s had always been a second home. She wasn’t sure how wise it was to meet with a possible person of interest in her murder investigation away from the station, but bringing Hawk to the pub kept him on her turf. She’d have plenty of backup, if necessary.

  They’d driven separately, leaving her time to wonder what this was meeting was all about. She hadn’t told him any details about the crime, only that it was a murder. It would be interesting to see what—if anything—he had to add to her meager case file.

  Hawk waited to speak about business until after they’d ordered and the waitress had brought their drinks, a root beer for him and a cold glass of tea for Dani.

  “This is awkward.” He looked at her, his eyes dark, full of concern. “I’m not stupid, Detective. I know there must be something other than finding Constantine and me on the Pier that causes you to be interested in speaking with me. As an attorney, I know the best advice is to shut up and say nothing.”

  “Even if you’re innocen
t?”

  Rich laughter burst from him, surprising her.

  “Especially if you’re innocent, sugar. I’m also aware that the Charbonnet family has a certain reputation in Généreux and with your family in particular.”

  “Go on.” Dani leaned forward, curious where this was going.

  “Look, I’m working at separating myself from my father’s interests. He doesn’t know that yet, at least I don’t think he knows, which is part of the reason I’d like to ask you to keep our conversation as private as possible. If you make this part of your official report, he will know within hours. I need a little more time to disentangle myself before he discovers that I don’t intend to continue working for him.”

  “Why’s that, Charbonnet? Don’t want to get your hands dirty?”

  He winced at that. “Please, sugar, we’re sharing a drink together. Call me Hawk. Permit me to call you Danielle. And if you must know, my hands are plenty dirty. But not in this state, and not recently. Maybe someday I’ll tell you all about my adventures. For now, you need to know that I had nothing to do with this crime.”

  “Why, Hawk, you interest me. What reason would I have to think you had anything to do with this murder?” she asked, throwing a bit of sarcasm over top of her honey.

  “Because of this.” He reached into his pocket and removed a splash of crimson sealed in a plastic bag. “It’s the tie I was wearing today. I believe your forensics team will be able to match the material to the handkerchief in the crime scene photograph you showed me.”

  She hadn’t mentioned the handkerchief earlier, just let the picture speak for itself. He was an observant man. She took the bag, wrote the date and time on it, and slipped it into her purse. She would lock it up as soon as they were finished speaking. “Care to make a statement as to how your handkerchief came to be under the body of a homicide victim, Hawk?”

  He blew out a breath. “I wish to God I knew. I don’t even know for sure when I lost it. I noticed it was missing when I took off my suit jacket. A few minutes later, you arrive and show me the photographs, and I caught a glimpse of the red. I admit it gave me a sick feeling, because I was sure it was mine.”

  “So why not tell me then? Or better yet, why tell me at all?”

  “Look, we don’t know each other, and you have no reason to trust me, but I can promise you, I am not my father. I have no knowledge of this crime, but I believe it may have something to do with me or my father, or both of us.”

  “Why’s that?” Dani asked, more than willing to give him enough rope to hang himself.

  “Because it’s not the only thing in that photograph that I recognized.” He blew out another breath before he continued. “The knife looks remarkably similar to one I recently purchased through an auction in New York. A Scottish dirk from the seventeenth century. The blade is thirteen inches long; the handle made of boxwood and carved with three rings of Celtic knot work. I recognized the handle in the photograph.”

  He leaned forward and said quietly, “Someone is setting me up, Danielle. You’ve got to believe me. I didn’t do this.”

  Dani leaned back and thought about what he’d said, weighing the sincerity of his words against what her gut was telling her. Damn if she didn’t want to believe him. But she wouldn’t. Not yet. He was a Charbonnet, and lying came as naturally as breathing.

  Neither of them said anything while their food was served. She breathed in the spicy tomato scent of her mémé’s crawfish jambalaya, the house specialty, and then watched with amusement as Hawk eyed her dish suspiciously after cutting his cheeseburger in half.

  “What’s the matter, cher? You forget where you be from? You don’ know how to eat ’dem spicy crawfish, no?” Danielle asked, affecting her mémé’s manner of speech.

  Hawk laughed, sending a shiver up her spine. “You’re very good at that, sugar.”

  “I never forget where I come from,” she said with an easy smile. “Eat up. My mémé might not have cooked your burger personally, but it’s the best in town, I guar-un-tee!”

  While they ate in a surprisingly companionable silence, she took advantage of the break in the verbal sparring to think. She was about to take a free pass to poke around the Charbonnet mansion—well, one room in the mansion. Dani finished formulating her plan.

  “Okay,” she told him. “I’ll look into this and keep your involvement off the record for now. I’ll need to get into your room and look around. I’ll dust for prints myself, so we don’t need to bring anyone else in on this. But don’t doubt for a minute, Hawk Charbonnet, that I have what it takes to bring you down if I find out you’re lying to me.”

  “I’m not, I swear,” he said, looking at her with his deep brown eyes. “I’ll find out who was behind this. And when I do, I’ll k—”

  “Kill him? Be careful what you tell me, Hawk,” she warned. “It just might come back to bite you in the ass.”

  Chapter Three

  Nic stood in the fluorescent glare of the clinic hallway, her hand gripping the door handle while the scene from the afternoon played over and over in her mind. “Are you using again?” Nicolette had hissed. She hadn’t needed to ask. As soon as the words left her mouth, she knew they were true. Goddamn it! Del had worked so hard to break free of his addiction. She closed her eyes. You could never be free from an addiction, just work to hold it at bay. Del hadn’t been able to this time. She’d cleaned him up and got rid of the stained clothes. Then she’d packed his bag and taken him straight to Serenity, the drug rehab facility closest to Généreux.

  It wouldn’t have been his grandfather’s choice, but Nicolette was sick of trying to please Constantine. As both her former husband and Del’s grandfather, Constantine refused to accept that she and Del were a genuine couple.

  Years earlier, she’d barely been twenty-three when she’d married old man Constantine for his money, so she could hardly blame him for his suspicions, but she wasn’t lying about her feelings for Del. Constantine would blame her for Del’s relapse and send him back to the rehab clinic in Switzerland. She wouldn’t be able to see him.

  Well, she’d just discovered she couldn’t see him here, either. At least not for the next fourteen days while he went through what the staff called the detox period. Then it would depend on the specific treatment the doctor designed for Del.

  The doctor had permitted her to return to say good-bye for now and to tell Del she would wait for him. The doctor said he would need to hear that. It was important she make him believe her. She could wait. As long as they got him off the goddamn drugs.

  With a deep breath, Nic opened the door and stepped inside.

  Del was a beautiful man, big and strong, with short brown hair and deep brown eyes. Now he looked shrunken, faded. It was as if the few hours in the clinic had already robbed him of his vitality. She watched as he sat on the edge of the bed, head down, hair gripped tightly between his fingers.

  Her first instinct was to scream, to hit, to ask how he could do this to her. Instead, she pushed her feelings aside—this wasn’t about her. She had only a moment to wonder at her newfound selflessness before she saw his tears. Del, hurt, lost, vulnerable.

  Nicolette’s heart squeezed painfully at the sight of this man who at this moment was so very broken. He’d been her friend from the start—always been there for her, dried her tears, and picked her up after each of her disastrous relationships. It had taken her years to realize he’d been waiting. For her.

  This time, she would take care of him. His well-being was now her responsibility and for a change, she was going to do what was right for someone beside herself. She stepped closer and cradled his head against her chest as his soft crying turned to weeping.

  “Oh, God, Nicolette. I’m sorry, so sorry. What have I done?” Del sobbed.

  “Shh, Del. No one knows. No one will ever know. I took care of everything.”

  ****

  Tony Espinoza sat in the dingy hotel room, monitoring the listening devices he’d managed to place in the
suspect’s house. Motherfucker’s been playing outside the law for years. I might be working by myself, but I’m gonna be the one to finally stop Julian Charbonnet.

  One of the problems he faced was the size of the mansion. How could anybody be sure to cover the rooms where Julian talked about his business? He’d been able to plant two bugs, but he couldn’t stay here and monitor them all the time. He would bring in a couple of recorders tomorrow. All he needed was a little break. A little chink in the Charbonnet code from one of Julian’s thugs. If he got that, he might be able to swing a genuine court order and a surveillance team.

  The son was a bit of a wild card. Tony hadn’t been expecting him to show up in Généreux. He did his most of his business and probably all of his crimes overseas. London, if he remembered correctly. He could put some careful feelers out to a friend in Interpol to see if Hawk Charbonnet had a record anywhere in Europe. It didn’t matter. Tony recognized garbage when he saw it, and any kid of Julian’s would be rotten through and through.

  God, he was sick of working in this backwater town. He was a fucking FBI special agent, for Christ’s sake. Fucking brass. Banished him just because he’d gotten a little cozy with a witness. All he needed was a break and he’d be back in New York. Hell, when he bagged Charbonnet, he’d be back in Washington.

  His actions over the past two days might have been regrettable to some, but Tony knew the end justified the means. Thinking it all over, he knew he’d do the same thing again. Adding Hawk to the mix was a bonus. Julian placed great value on family, so if Tony could get something on the son, he would finally get Julian. The bastard would dance his last dance in a cell.

  ****

  “What do you mean you ‘took care’ of things?” Constantine asked.

  “Just what I said,” Evelyn answered. “Things have been taken care of. I don’t like anyone to think I married a fool; therefore, I took it upon myself to eliminate any problems. Oh, no, darling. Don’t bother to thank me. It was the least I could do.” She paused, a look of uncertainty passing over her face. “I suppose that’s not strictly correct. The least I could do would be to do nothing, but of course, we know that’s unlikely.”