“Maybe. A little. You don’ talk much about it,” Bijou pointed out.

“I’ve never told a woman I love her. Never. Not once. But you, Blue.” He shook his head.

“You don’ have to . . .”

He laid a finger across her lip, that amazing, fantasy lower lip he couldn’t resist. “Let me say this to you. I need to. Even if it’s just this once. You deserve to know.”

Bijou nodded, her tongue curling around his finger and drawing it into the warmth of her mouth. His cock jerked in response.

“Everything you do is so fuckin’ sensual, Blue. Everything. I tried to make this about our leopards. And then about sex. But I ran out of places to hide. I had no idea what love was. I’d never felt it before you came along. I needed time to sort it all out. I didn’t honestly think it would happen for me. You came along, and you were just too damn good to be true. I had no idea the emotion would be like this. All encompassing. So intense. I feel a little like a deer caught in the headlights.”

He used his finger to tease her mouth before bending his head to hers and kissing her. “What I’m tryin’ to say in my own clumsy way is, I’m very much in love with you.”

Bijou’s long, feathery lashes swept down and up several times. For a moment he thought tears swam in her eyes, but after she’d blinked a few times, her eyes were clear, sparkling and looking at him with everything he could have wanted.

“Say it. Tell me,” he urged.

“I don’ have near the confidence in myself you think I do. When I’m singing, Remy, that’s someone else. When I’m me, I have no real idea of even how to be in a relationship, let alone how to love someone properly. You’re taking a big risk.”

He smoothed back her hair. “I told you right from the start to trust me. I’ll get you through it. We’ll find our own way, Blue. But you’d better tell me before I do something rash.”

She laughed softly. “You’re so crazy.” She traced the smile on his face. “Of course I love you. I came back to New Orleans just for you. It’s always been you.”

Satisfaction went deep. He kissed her again. “Come on, honey, I can smell coffee and breakfast.” He slipped off the bed and pulled her up beside him.

They took a long slow shower, Bijou washing him carefully and thoroughly, which required another, much quicker assault on her body. Remy felt relaxed and ready for work by the time they went down to breakfast. He wasn’t in the least surprised to see Gage waiting for him, looking as grim and upset as Remy had been before Bijou had worked her miracle on him.

“You need a woman, Gage,” he greeted and poured himself a cup of Saria’s excellent coffee. “You spend too much time with murder these days.” He was only half teasing. Gage did look older. He’d always been a bit of a prankster, but there was little left of the boy. He didn’t care to see his brother take the same path he had, but clearly, it was too late.

“We all need the right woman,” Gage said. He smiled at Bijou. “Good mornin’. How long do I have to wait to have you as my sister? It will boost my status with the voters as well as my men.”

Bijou laughed. “Glad I can be of some help to you.” She took the coffee he offered and sank into a chair, clearly savoring the aroma of the fresh-baked beignets. “I know this morning must be awful for you, Gage. I’m so sorry.”

“Have you heard anything more?” Remy asked. “Have the Rousseau brothers been located?”

“Not so far, but Judge Thomasson was found this morning with a self-inflicted bullet hole in his head.”

Remy’s head came up sharply. “Are you certain it was suicide?”

Gage nodded. “He left a note, said he couldn’t stop the voices whisperin’ in his head, telling him to kill himself. He knew he was possessed. He had to free the Rousseau brothers, because he knew if he didn’t they would send their demons to him to rob him of his soul. They wanted the charges dropped, which he couldn’t do, so they sent their demons anyway.”

“Voodoo,” Remy said softly. “He was a believer.”

“Go into the dinin’ room and eat,” Saria said. “Both of you. And you too, Bijou.”

Remy followed Gage into the dining room and sat down at the ornate dining table. Of course Saria had made a big breakfast for them. She always made certain the men in her house had food, a leftover habit from taking care of her father, or maybe it was more likely she enjoyed cooking and feeding her family.

“Yes, he had faith, but he should have gone to Eulalie and to us. We found a recorder in his vents, motion-activated. Voices whisperin’ to him to kill himself,” Gage said. “The Rousseau brothers took out a little insurance to make certain their legend grew in the eyes of the voodoo community.” He sat across from Remy and reached immediately for the trout.

“I would say that means they’re still around. We have to figure out where they are before they get out of town and become someone else’s nightmare,” Remy suggested. He scooped up trout and added poached eggs and hollandaise sauce from the silver warmers set in the middle of the table.

“Fresh-squeezed orange juice,” Saria announced, putting two wineglasses filled with the juice in front of her brothers. “Drink it. Neither one of you is gettin’ any sleep, and if you’re going to catch all the criminals lurking around the bayou, you’d better be in shape.”