Deja Voodoo (A Cajun Magic Novel) (Entangled Suspense) by Elle James Page A

got caught with his hand in that senator’s cookie jar, he’d still be knockin’ me around. Between me and the senator, we’ll put the bastard away.” She smiled up at Ed, chocolate clinging to her teeth. “Then I’ll have more time for the likes of you, Eddy.”
    He hated it when people called him Eddy, especially trash-mouthed women like Phyllis. She’d called him Eddy from the time he’d loaded her into the SUV to the time he’d dropped her off at this Cajun-bubba version of a safe house. If he hadn’t needed her testimony so badly, he’d have thrown her to the alligators on the trip out.
    “I’d better get back,” Ed said. “I have to be fishing on the bayou early in the morning.”
    “I don’t want to hear your hard-luck story, Marceau. While you’re sleeping like a baby on a real bed, I get to spend the night in a folding chair, watching over Ms. Potty-mouth.”
    “Oh, you can’t leave yet.” Phyllis lurched out of her chair and waddled her way over to him, walking on her heels with her wet toenails in the air. “Dontcha wanna stay and play cards? I play a mean strip poker.” She draped an arm over his shoulder and ran her fingers along the V of his polo shirt. “Really, I lose every time,” she purred, pressing her boobs against his chest.
    He grabbed her wrist and removed her other hand from his shoulder. “I’d rather poke my eyeballs out. But thanks for the offer.” He stepped away before she could get her octopus arms around him again. “Why don’t you play a hand with Marcus?”
    “Thanks, man.” Marcus glared at him. “I might just shoot you, anyway.”
    Phyllis pouted. “He’s no fun. He keeps threatening to shoot me.”
    “Yeah, he’s like that.” Ed chuckled and slipped the straps of his backpack over his shoulders. “He’s a trigger-happy son of a gun.” He leaned close to Marcus as he passed him on the way to the door and said in a tone loud enough for Phyllis to overhear. “If she gives you any trouble, shoot her in the knee. It’ll keep her from moving around and she’ll still be able to testify.”
    “Hey!” Phyllis cried. “I’m not deaf.”
    “Give the dog a bone.” He nodded to Marcus. “If you have any troubles, send up a flare.”
    “They don’t pay me enough for this gig,” Marcus groused.
    “No, they don’t.” Ed opened the door and clicked on his flashlight. “You don’t have to walk me out.”
    “Please. I can use the fresh air after all the nail polish fumes.” Marcus walked him to the front door and they stood in the shadows as they scanned the bayou below for movement.
    After several long moments Ed whispered, “All clear. See you tomorrow night. Can I bring you anything?”
    “A gag for her mouth?”
    “You got it.” He left, dropping down into the boat and turning on his GPS to get him back. He’d be glad when this assignment ended and Leon Primeaux was safely tucked away in a federal prison for life. He could get back to civilization, away from the bayou—and the temptation of kissing a certain bayou princess.
    Hell, why did he have to go and think of Alex? Even after visiting the woman from hell, his libido jacked up every time he thought of Alexandra Belle Boyette and that kiss.
    That damn kiss.
    …
    Alex bent to tie her tennis shoe. As it neared the end of her day at the gym, she was so tired she could barely see straight. She had struggled throughout to keep up with, much less lead, her aerobics classes, and had taken a nasty kick to the jaw in her black-belt karate class.
    That’s what lack of sleep got you. She’d tossed and turned after her trip to visit the Voodoo queen. When she did drift into a troubled sleep, she’d dreamed she was running through town in her nightgown. Ed was at the end of the street, waiting for her, his arms open wide.
    Joy filled her heart and she tried to run faster, but her feet sank into mud, the suction pulling her back. The sound of Voodoo drums filled her head and a dark presence