Running On Empty (Fleur de Lis Book 2) Page 2

  Finally, she stopped running. She raised her face to the sky and resisted the urge to scream. Taking deep breaths, she waited. She waited until her heart slowed and her breathing became less ragged. She waited for the endorphins to beat out the raging storm in her mind. When it finally calmed, she whistled for Furby and walked back down the beach toward home.

  Chapter Three

  “Grace!” Carly exclaimed as she spotted Grace walk in to Snapper’s. She circled the bar to give her a hug. “Joey didn’t tell me you were coming!”

  “I surprised him this morning.”

  “Joey!” Carly called. “Grace is here.”

  Joey’s head poked out of the swinging doors. “Hey, Grace! What can I get you?”

  “Get me one of your burgers. Please. And can I get a beer and a shot of Patron? It’s been a helluva trip.”

  “Sure thing,” Carly said.

  Grace smiled as she spotted Emily, Noah, and Ryder by the bar. After hugs and hellos were exchanged, Grace took a seat next to Ryder.

  Ryder was Grace’s best friend. He was a long-legged cowboy full of reckless charm. There wasn’t a bull he wasn’t willing to ride, or a cute woman he wasn’t ready to seduce. He lived with Grace off and on in New Orleans when he worked in town.

  The chorus of “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” filled the bar.

  Emily grabbed Ryder. “Wanna dance?”

  “Yeah. It’s a slow one. You shouldn’t be too bad,” he said, and she rewarded him with a punch on the arm.

  “You wanna dance?” Noah asked Grace after the other two took the floor.

  “Nah, you go ahead, I will want to later though.”

  “Cool.”

  Noah sipped from his beer for a while. The veteran had never been one to talk much, so they sat and watched the other two dance. About midway through the Christmas carol, he finished his beer. He walked across the makeshift dance floor and tapped Ryder on the shoulder. Ryder smiled and relinquished his dance partner.

  Grace took a drink from Carly and drew her knees up to the bar and leaned back. It was her normal pose at the bar. She sat back and absorbed the familiar surroundings. She had grown up in this place. Not the bar; this place hadn’t always been a bar. It was a bait shop until Carly and Joey bought it and turned it into Snapper’s Bar and Grill. In their younger days, Grace, Benjamin, and Ryder had ridden their bikes here on hot summer days for root beer and their favorite candy. The three of them had been inseparable. Then Ben died. That pain had never gone away. She couldn’t imagine what it was like for Noah and Carly to lose a sibling.

  Grace sighed and looked around. Neon beer signs covered the walls, advertising mostly American brews. No fancy imports for this crowd. They were a simple, hardworking, honest bunch of mostly males. Colorful posters of past local festivals were framed and placed throughout the bar. A jukebox that played almost constantly because Carly could not stand silence stood against one wall. A single pool table was in front of that. A big screen TV was nestled in the corner, and was very popular during LSU and Saints games. That was one time the jukebox did not play. One did not play music during football games. The random newcomer who tried would be quickly chastised and his or her money refunded.

  A few regulars littered the main corner of the U-shaped bar. Everyone seemed to have their own spot, and always had. The dominant personalities took the point, and the quieter personalities fanned out from there. It was early, and still happy hour. Later, this group would trickle out and the night crowd would slowly start to filter in.

  “Are you okay, Grace?” Carly asked. Carly frequently took the day bartending shift. Grace knew it was because she loved the day crowd, and also it tended to be a bit slower and she could get some of her clerical and stocking jobs done. As usual, Carly’s blonde hair was pulled back, and the pens she used to write orders or keep track of tabs or other business was shoved in the ponytail. By the end of her shift, she would have several tucked in there, and would be looking for one. “You’re awfully quiet.”

  “I’m fine, Carly.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure. Thank you.”

  “Good.” Carly raised a blonde eyebrow. That was Carly. She looked out for everyone. That was why everyone loved her.

  Ryder left the dance floor and joined Grace at the bar. As usual, he wore a black cowboy hat, boots, and the belt buckle from his latest rodeo win.

  He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her forehead. He pulled back and looked her in the eye. When Grace looked up at him, his dark eyes, usually filled with humor, darkened.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” she said. “Not now.”

  “Okay. But,” he raised an eyebrow, “I’m not letting you off the hook for long. You will tell me what’s going on.”

  “I will. But not today. Not tonight. Drink with me and dance with me,” she said. She needed to escape from his prying eyes. She couldn’t talk about what happened. Not yet.

  He took his cowboy hat off and shoved it on her head. “You got it.” He turned toward the bar and propped one cowboy boot onto the rail that surrounded it.

  “Some guy do you wrong?” he asked.

  Grace flinched, then said, “I thought you were going to leave it alone?”

  He turned his barstool to face hers and stared her down. Grace met his glare, unblinking. A standoff between two strong-willed people; it wasn’t the first one, and it wouldn’t be the last.

  A quick Cajun two-step tune rang through the bar. To distract him, she grabbed Ryder’s hand. “Dance with me.”

  Ryder took her hand and led her through the spirited and complicated traditional dance. Ryder had always been one of the best dancers she had ever partnered with, or even seen dance for that matter. His sure movements on the dance floor had led him to more than one romantic encounter. If it wasn’t his smooth moves, it was his charm. He was a shameless flirt. And his dark “Cajun cowboy” good looks didn’t hurt either.

  When they returned to their stools, Grace’s cheeks were red from exertion. Her heart beat like she’d just performed on stage.

  Grace set the cowboy hat on the bar, and Ryder put it back on his head. He lit a cigarette and was quiet. She resumed her normal slouch, drink in hand. Ryder simply let her be, and she appreciated that.

  One of the regulars, Evan, came around to their corner of the bar. “Hey, Ryder? Wanna shoot a game?” He gestured to the pool table.

  “Sure, man. Rack ’em,” Ryder said, getting up to grab a pool stick. He gave Grace’s leg a squeeze as he passed.

  Grace turned to face the pool game. She watched the two square off on the table and talk smack to each other, and it took her mind off her problems for the time being. Sooner or later, she was going to have to tell Ryder about what happened with Brent. He wouldn’t let her get out of that. Not since she had told him every little secret about herself for as long as she could remember. Sometimes, Grace thought Ryder knew her better than she knew herself. He also didn’t bullshit. He never minced words or sugarcoated his opinion, and Grace loved that.

  She smiled as Ryder made a difficult shot. The jukebox died down, so Grace grabbed a five and went to it. She was shuffling through the albums when she felt an arm wrap around her shoulders. She jumped.

  She turned to see Joey giving her a funny look. “Grace?”

  “Oh, sorry, Joey. You scared me.”

  “I see that. You okay?”

  “Yes, I’m okay,” she snapped, and felt bad immediately. “I’m just tired. Too many gigs lately. I need a break.”

  Joey scanned her face, knowing she wasn’t being completely honest, but let it go anyway. He gave her a quick hug. “It’s good to have you home, sis.”

  He left her at the jukebox and went to join Ryder in their little corner. Ryder had won the game and was waiting on the next challenger to rack the balls. Grace picked the last few songs and sat back down.

  Carly returned with a round of shots. “Here’
s to our Grace! Carly Bombs and a Patron for Grace!”

  Several groaned, “Not Carly Bombs again! I suffered the entire next day!”

  “Tough,” Carly said. “We don’t all get to get together much anymore. Where’s Gabe, by the way? Daniel said he was on his way home too.”

  “He’s coming,” Joey said. “His band is taking a break until October, so he’ll be here a few weeks.”

  “That’s awesome. It’s been what? A year since he’s been back? His band has really started to take off! And have you seen his pictures? Oh my God! He’s so hot!” Carly exclaimed.

  “I have.” Grace had noticed the difference in his social media pictures as well. He had shaved his goatee and cut off his long, curly brown hair. His new look was more rock, more edgy. More than once, Grace had seen a pic he posted and thought, Damn, Gabe.

  He wasn’t the quiet, soulful artist he had been the last time she saw him.

  “What do you think prompted the change?” Grace asked.

  “I think it was a woman,” Carly said.

  “You always think that,” Joey said.

  “Well, did you ask him?”

  Joey’s eyes widened. “No. Guys don’t ask guys that kind of thing.”

  Carly rolled her brown eyes. “Ugh. I guess I’ll just have to find out the details when he gets here.”

  “Said he’d see us tomorrow. You can grill him to your heart’s content.”

  “You know I will. And we have another reason to celebrate!”

  Carly always looked for a reason to celebrate. Someone was coming home? Celebrate. Saints won? Celebrate. Tuesday? Celebrate. Carly was Grace’s polar opposite. Where Grace was dark, Carly was light. One thing they had in common was their love for music, which several of the group shared.

  Gabe, Grace, and Benjamin had played together in high school. Benjamin played drums, Gabe the guitar, Grace the bass, and Gabe’s friend, Bennett, filled in with guitar and backup vocals. Their band name back then was Lafitte’s Treasure, and they had been convinced they were going to go all the way.

  She had played with Loup Garou until today. And Benjamin…Grace’s heart constricted. What if he had joined one of them in New Orleans, or Austin, instead of taking that job in the oilfield? Would he still be with them?

  Grace looked down at her drink that sat on the bar, moisture pooled on the white napkin under the glass. Absently, she turned it in circles, lost in thought.

  Ryder nudged her with an elbow. “Whatcha thinking?”

  “About Ben,” she said.

  He exhaled a stream of smoke. “I miss him too.”

  He clinked his beer bottle with her glass. “Let’s go dance. You know Ben would be pissed if we sat around and carried on over him.”

  “You’re right. Go play some music.”

  Grace turned to Emily as he walked away. “How’s the catering business going?”

  Emily smiled. “It’s going so great! I just got some more business from some companies in Lafayette. Word is spreading. And I’ve branched out into holiday parties. I’m going to do some Mardi Gras balls too.”

  Emily was one of those quiet types, not shy, but happy to sit and listen to everyone’s conversations. She was perfect for Noah; she was always calm and always steady. Except that one time at the spaghetti cook-off, but that had been her ex-husband’s fault. Grace smiled, wishing she would have been here to see Em give that ass the what-for. Carly had messaged her all about it, though, and Grace had cheered her from New Orleans.

  A fast Cajun tune rang out through the bar. Grace, knowing it was Ryder’s music, met him on the dance floor. She took his hand and together they turned circles. She spun until she was almost dizzy. Whether it was from the dance, the drinks, or the lack of good sleep, or a combination of all three, she didn’t know.

  The song finished, and a slow Cajun waltz came on. She loved waltzes, but Ryder hated them. Too slow for him; he liked the flashier dances. But Ryder would play them every now and then so she could dance. He stepped back, and Noah joined her on the floor.

  When he placed his hands on her, she stiffened. Noah’s eyes narrowed for a moment.

  “You okay?”

  Grace shook it off. “Yeah, just jumpy. Too much time in New Orleans, I think.”

  His dark look told her he wasn’t convinced, but he nodded. “Yeah, probably.”

  He led her through the series of steps and turns, sliding along to the one, two, three step of the music. He was a smooth dancer. Grace had danced with him often in the past and enjoyed it. Stiff at first, by the end of the dance, Grace felt comfortable again.

  The song ended and Grace returned to the bar. After two dances, she was parched. She downed the rest of her drink, and Carly quickly replenished it.

  The door flashed open and one of Pointe Shade’s boys in blue walked in. Grace glanced at Carly, who rolled her eyes. Ryder had told Grace that the sheriff, Brent’s uncle, Denis Mouton, had taken a liking to Carly and was now making regular appearances. That was a lost cause. Carly and Joey had been fighting their feelings for months now.

  Denis Mouton was also known for shady arrests and harassing women. He had been involved in an altercation a few months earlier that ended in a gunshot to his crotch. The official details had never been released.

  John, one of the regulars standing at the bar, nodded to the cop. “Hey, Mouton! Dat you?”

  The cop took off his dark sunglasses and folded them in his hands. “That’s me.”

  “Good. I tink dat’s your game. Dey’s one ball left on de table.” John nodded to the pool table where one white ball rested on the green felt after Ryder and Evan had taken a break from the game.

  Grace watched Carly’s face twitch in an attempt not to laugh, and when Mouton saw this, his face turned even redder. A vein throbbed in his forehead. His hand went to the baton at his side, as if he wanted to do bodily harm to the offender.

  Noah stepped in. “Can we help you, officer?”

  Mouton slowly slid his steely grey eyes away from John and over to Noah.

  “I’m just making some rounds. I was returning from court in Orleans Parish.”

  “This isn’t your jurisdiction,” Noah pointed out.

  “True, but I always like to make sure the public is protected, no matter where they’re located.” Mouton’s eyes moved from Noah to Carly. Carly frowned, and turned to a customer and started chatting. Mouton’s eyes narrowed at the obvious dismissal. His gaze roamed the room and landed on Grace. He walked over to stand in front of her. Grace felt, rather than saw, Ryder slide to the right just a bit closer to her.

  “Well, aren’t you the little songbird from New Orleans? Brent’s told me all about you. All about you.”

  He knew. She said nothing. She looked down for a minute and fiddled with her black painted fingernails. Her head pounded and her stomach roiled. She refused to let Mouton see her panic.

  Finally, she looked back up at his irate glare. He was not used to being dismissed so easily.

  “Sir,” she said, drawing out the word, “I don’t think anyone I know would use the words little or songbird to describe me.”

  “Oh, and what words would they use?”

  Her lips twitched, and she looked back down at her fingernails. “Um, I don’t know? Sarcastic? Mean?” She looked up and met his eyes again. “A real bitch.”

  Ryder groaned beside her as Emily spewed her drink across the bar.

  “Is that right?” He leaned closer to her face. “Well, in Pointe Shade, we know just what to do with little girls with big attitudes.”

  Grace leaned in a bit closer. “Try me.”

  Noah cleared his throat. “As you can see, officer, we are all just perfectly fine here. No drama. I think you can head on back to Pointe Shade now.”

  Mouton stepped back, his eyes still on Grace. “I think I should. But I’ll be seeing you again, soon.” He smiled at Grace. “And hopefully in my jurisdiction next time.”

  She shrugged and took a sip of her drin
k. “Whatever floats your boat.”

  His hand reached down to his baton again, and in that moment, Grace felt her insides go cold. She refused to look away though and watched as he tipped his hat to Carly and walked out the door.

  Grace fought down the bile that threatened to rise by sipping her drink. Not successful, she sat the drink down on the bar. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Shots are coming,” Carly said. “You want to wait a minute?”

  “I’ll be right back,” Grace replied. “Just need a moment.”

  Carly eyed her. “What’s up?”

  Grace forced a smile. “I’m fine, don’t worry. I’m just going to the bathroom.”

  “Okay then,” Carly said, although the look she gave Grace said that she knew better.

  Grace patted her on the arm and walked away. Once in the bathroom, Grace braced her arms on the vanity. She lowered her head and took a few breaths, hoping to make the sick feeling she had left over from Mouton’s visit go away.

  “What are you going to do? Who’s going to believe you? And don’t forget Sheriff Mouton is my dear uncle. I won’t pay for anything…” Brent’s words echoed in her head. Grace forced down the bile again. Turning on the faucet, she splashed cold water on her face.

  “Grace? You okay? You coming? Shots are ready?” Carly’s voice was muffled through the bathroom door.

  Grace took a deep breath. “Coming.”

  She turned off the water, took one more cleansing breath, and walked out the door.

  Chapter Four

  “Grace.” Brent’s voice echoed beside her ear, his hand cold on her face.

  “No,” Grace said, shaking her head.

  “Grace, you know you want this.”

  The haze drifted back over her mind, and Brent’s face faded away, as well as the feel of his touch.

  “No,” Grace said as she slept. The sound of her own voice woke her up. She gasped for air and sat up in bed. She was chilled to the bone. She pulled the quilt up and lay back in bed, waiting for her heart to stop racing.