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Night Game by Christine Feehan

By Christine Feehan

Gator Fontenot of the designated Forces paranormal squad needs to reel within the elusive Iris ''Flame'' Johnson, a sufferer of an identical bad experiments that warped Gator--and a red-haired weapon of unbelievable harmful powers bent on revenge within the sultry bayous of latest Orleans. yet can humans haunted via violent betrayals belief the eagerness that quickly ignites among them? Or is one in all them simply enjoying one other seductive and lethal evening online game?

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He didn‟t. Whatever had happened to her went too deep, was there in the dark places of her mind and swirling for just a moment in her eyes. There was horror there—and knowledge of things he had never experienced and never wanted to. He reached out and patted her hand. ” Flame forced a smile. “I‟m always careful. ” She turned her head to stare out over the water. The gentle waves lapped at the sides of the houseboat, creating a motion she found soothing. She was inexplicably tired lately. Instead of singing in a club with the crush of a crowd surrounding her, she wanted to lie in her bunk and pretend she had a home.

What would make him trade all that to work for Whitney? A flash of anger curled through her and she felt the house shift ever so slightly. Forcing air through her lungs, she continued moving, trying to think of other things. She flashed the small penlight on the pictures above the stairs. Little boys smiled out at her, surrounding an older woman who looked both proud and stern. As Flame moved down the stairs, the boys became older, barefoot teens with alligators and fish, the same silly grins of their faces.

A woman‟s voice cut through the tension. ” Shocked, Flame looked at the little old lady wrapped in a robe and holding a shotgun nearly as big as she was in her hands. Her silver-white hair was braided and looped in a neat bun at the back of her head. Her skin was paper thin and white, but her eyes were clear and steady, her lips compressed tightly in disapproval. Gator scrambled to drag up a sheet, half standing as he did so. “Grand-mereNonny—” His grandmother cut him off without a word sending him a glare.

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