NYC - REVIEW THIS STORY

Written by Broadway
Last updated: 01/02/2007 02:01:11 AM

Chapter 3

Jean White had been crying too when she received a knock at her door. She glanced at the clock perched on her nightstand; the hands read one-thirty-nine. She rubbed her bleary eyes and slowly padded to the door.

"Scott!" She said. Sure enough, there he stood in the doorway of her penthouse, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, looking as if he suddenly regretted even coming. She unconsciously clutched the fabric of the silk, white robe her brother had bought for her one year for the holidays.

Scott had to catch his breath. That thing she was wearing clung to her curves, and God she had a plentiful supply. She looked like some sort of angel with a white light pouring forth from behind her, reflecting off her scarlet tresses and cheekbones. His gaze traveled up to her eyes, and they were red and puffy.

"Have you been crying?" His voice sounded more concerned than he had meant it to.

She smiled at his sincerity despite herself and mustered the will to nod. "Yes." Her celestial blue eyes got a distant look. "I miss him," was all she said quietly.

Summers again felt a twinge of rage toward this Remy guy he had yet to even meet. Any guy that had the nerve to do this to his sister, especially to a sister like this who loved and was genuinely worried for him, had to be a first rate shmut.

Unknowingly, Scott had encircled her small frame with his arms and was letting her cry on his shoulder. He knew it was one of the worst things he could do, being a detective and all. When you were in this line of work you followed certain rules, and rule number one: never, EVER get involved with the clients. At that point in time though, Scott pushed that vital piece of information to the back of his head and succumbed to the little voice that said he didn't have a chance against her.

He stayed for almost forty-five minutes, talking about anything and everything with her over blueberry tea. He tried desperately not to hang onto her every word, not to get too attached, to stay as clinical as he could get considering he let her cry on his shoulder, but he just couldn't. She enthralled him, plain as that, and slowly, eventually, he came to accept the cold fact.

"But that wasn't as fun as the time Remy took me floating down a lazy Mississippi river." Her voice dripped with wistfulness.

"Mississippi, really? That's where my secretary is from."

Jean's heart fell and she nearly panicked, but instead of falling to her knees and confessing everything, she simply choked out, "Really?"

"Yea, Cher. Heh," He began to chuckle at the thought of the spunky Southerner. "She's quite a pistol, but lays it on real thick with that down home charm if you know what I'm saying."

Jean just smiled weakly and asked Scott to recount an old detective story for her.

It wasn't until about two-thirty that Scott decided it was high time he up and left. Jean walked him to the door, thanking him for coming and telling her Remy was definitely in the city. Surprisingly enough, that little piece of information relieved Jean immensely, considering her brother's many residents.

At the door, Scott couldn't bring himself to leave. He turned to drink in the sight of her one last time, causing her to blush under his devouring gaze. Despite his searing stare, Jean did not feel in the least bit uncomfortable. On the contrary, she felt as if her stomach had just unleashed a swarm of wild butterflies. Her blood pulsed as he tentatively stepped closer and wordlessly rested a hand on her cheek, barely brushing his rough thumb over her petal soft lips. She swallowed a gasp as electricity shot through her body from the contact.

The voice in Scott's head that quickly went from pestering to agreeable screamed at him to kiss her. Jean's mouth had always been a source of weakness for him, somewhat like his Achilles' heel. He was convinced there had never been such a maddening mouth since Eve.

Unfortunately for Scott, his conscience was prepared to fight to the death. A faint sense of obligation stirred in him, of duty. If he kissed her, it could ruin the case. It would be a stamp of his affection for her that he would never be able to take back. And then, what if he didn't ever find the Remy guy? She could very well never want to see his face again if he failed her in this one thing.

The moment hung in the air around them, time graciously standing still until a decision was made. Jean breathed in short breaths, unsure of what to do, what he was going to do, or what would happen if either of them did anything. What if Remy ever found out? Jean had a feeling Scott would conveniently never want to see her again if her brother found out; it would not be the first time it happened.

Scott's mind was near delirious with her intoxicating presence and his willpower could take it no more. With one swift movement of thoughtless passion he captured her rosebud mouth with his own hungry one as if he were starving for her soul. She melted into him as he buried one hand in her mass of ruby ringlets and placed the other one on the small of her back. She combed her fingers through his hair, sending spills down the detective's back.

And then, somehow, in the intuition all siblings have, Jean's stomach dropped at the sense that her brother knew or would somehow soon find out about this. She couldn't do this to Scott; he was a good man. It would only bring them both grief if she let this continue because God only knew when she, her brother, and now Cher(the newest member of their little brigade), would be packing their bags and accounts and settling elsewhere- Vegas, Los Angeles, New Orleans, they all blended together after a while.

Hastily, almost violently, Jean wrenched herself apart from Scott's sweet embrace and all but pushed him through the still open door and into the narrow hallway. "I can't do this," she muttered.

"What's the matter? What's wrong?" Scott sputtered, still catching his breath.

She shook her head. "Nothing, I...We shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry. Good night." She reached for the door to shut it but Scott intervened with his arm.

"Why? Was it something I did?" He tried to keep the note of hurt from his voice.

"No, no, not at all. It's me; I can't do this. You don't want to do this, Scott. You don't want to be in a relationship with someone like me. I'm so sorry." And with that, she closed the door, the last thing she saw being Scott's bewildered and, sadly enough, hurt expression.

Detective Summers rose his hand to knock again, but soon lowered it in favor of better judgment. He stared for a moment at the gold numbers hanging on the white door before him. He was positive that if you listened hard enough, you could hear the brass numbers laughing at him. Ah well, he thought. You knew she'd bring you nothin' but pain, and now what's happened? She never wants to see your ugly mug again. On that note, he stumbled to the elevator and started for home.

On the other side of the door, Jean sank against the wall and cried, silently cursing her brother for his line of work and at the same time missing him like crazy.

Jean jumped nearly two feet from her tucked position on the floor at the tapping at her window. She shot her head up and clumsily brushed soaked red strands from her tear-streaked face. She peered out her window only to see pitch black.

Suddenly, a figure slammed itself against the glass, causing Jean to scream and scramble to a standing position. Her heart pounded violently against her chest as she considered possibilities concerning the Manhattan Massacre and the murder that took place not two buildings down from hers. The penthouse was silent again, until BAM!

Insistently, a hand beat against the glass, ringing through the whole apartment. Jean didn't notice though; she was hurriedly making her way to the window in order to open it and let him in. By now she had seen who it was- her brother.

"Remy! Oh my God, you're alive, thank God." In a spur of conflicting emotion she slapped his broad shoulder. "Where the hell have you been?" She exclaimed as he leaned against his sister for support in climbing down from the windowsill.

"Everywhere, kid." Remy almost laughed. Not quite the arrival he'd hoped for, but after all, Jean was used to this. Rogue was still new to it and just thankful to see him alive. "But yeah, Remy's alive. What? You surprised or somet'ing, Red?" Once he settled himself on the plush white carpet he stared long and hard at Jean. She knew what was coming.

"How much did you see?"

"Everyt'ing. Remy saw everyt'ing." She swallowed. He was not happy. "Who is he?"

"Nobo-" She stopped herself. Even though she had turned around so he couldn't see her blotchy face, she knew he was giving her a 'don't lie to me like that' look. "His name is Detective Scott Summers. He's the one Cher works for. After you turned up missing, we...I hired him. He doesn't know Cher and you are...together. We didn't think he'd approve if his secretary was emotionally involved in one of his cases." She paused and didn't even wait for him to give the order. "I'll tell him his services are no longer needed tomorrow." She sounded almost bitter, and Remy was a bit taken aback.

"Alright, dat's fine. But what was he doing here, Jeannie?"

Jean spun around. "Didn't I correct the mistake, Remy? I pushed him away, sent him out, didn't I? I slipped up for one moment, I'm sorry."

"Yes, Red, you did de right t'ing. Remy not mad at you, I'm mad at him. Remy knows what men have in mind when dey come to a woman's apartment dis late at night. And Jean, you know dat you shouldn't get too close to anyone like dat. What happens when we need to leave de city again? What would you say to him?"

Jean sniffed in response. It was true, though. Getting close to Scott, to anyone, meant trouble. Always had. But it was different this time. The thought of leaving Scott hurt more than it usually did when she was forced to leave any acquaintances. Little did Jean know it would be so soon.

Remy cleared his throat uncertainly. Jean's head shot up, knowing her brother too well to brush that off as a casual cough. "What?"

"Dere's one more t'ing, chere. I need you to pack our accounts and be ready to leave when needed."

Jean nearly fainted. "Wh...? Why?"

"Somet'in has happened. Somet'in big." His voice was solemn; Jean knew something horrible had happened. "Remy can't tell you what it is, not now anyway, but you have to trust me, and be ready to leave."

She was dizzy. No, not so soon. It had only been about a year, that wasn't long enough. Not after she just met Scott. "Where," was all she could say.

"The house in Orleans." He replied simply.

"Have you told Cher?"

He nodded, "Yeah." He shrugged, but didn't dare grin. After all, his sister was a redhead- dynamite temper. "She's okay wit it."

Of course, Jean thought. Cher doesn't know what it's like yet. She's still new to it; give her a couple moves in six years. Jean pitied the woman who was in for quite a shock. Still, she looks like she could be happy anywhere as long as Remy is with her. Jean smiled briefly at that fleeting thought. She was happy for the couple, and remembered being pleasantly surprised when her brother told her he had actually fallen in love.

"You're not going to tell me what's happened, are you?" Jean said.

He shook his head, but didn't say anything. Jean sighed but accepted it. He had made up his mind.

The two chatted for a while longer before Remy made his way out. "Now Red, be a good girl and tell me what you're going to do for your ole brot'er Remy."

"I'm going to tell Scott he's no longer needed-"

"With no explanation as to why," He cut in.

"Right, I won't tell him why. Then I'm going to tie up loose ends at the banks, transfer our accounts, and pack necessities around the house." She paused. "But it's not sure we're going to have to leave, right? I mean, it's still up in the air?"

"Yea, chere, but..." He sighed, "Just pack, kay?" She nodded silently.

Remy tilted his head. "Dat's my girl. Now how 'bout a kiss." The siblings exchanged kisses on both cheeks and Remy crawled out the window the way he came in. "Bye, Red. I'll be back."

Remy weaved through the alleys, sticking as close to the shadows as one could without looking suspicious. He stopped at a thick steel door built into the brick wall and knocked twice.

"Password," Someone rasped on the other side.

"Blackbird."

The door lurched open with a swift creak to reveal a large, brawny man. "Hey, Rasputin." Remy said. The man nodded stiffly and pointed down a corridor, knowing already who Remy came to see and where to find him. "Thanks mon amie."

Remy reached an open room at the end with three men gathered around a small table in the center. Logan sat in the middle. When the Canadian saw him he dismissed the other two businessmen and gestured for Remy to take a seat.

"How goes it, Cajun?" He asked gruffly.

He shrugged, "It goes."

Logan lit a cigar. "Where ya' been? People have been asking for you."

"Really, well dat lifts a man's self-esteem." He paused and accepted a smoke. "Who?"

"A detective. We go back, his name is Summers."

Remy nodded. "I know dat one. I saw him just about half an hour ago in Jeannie's apartment. Couldn't keep his filthy paws off her. She kicked him out, dough. Smart girl- my sister. She learns from her brot'er." Remy grinned. "Red hired him to find me, I guess. Cher works for him."

Logan's features scrunched in confusion. "Cher?"

"Yea, Cher. Oh, dat's right, I didn't tell you. Remy's a soon-to-be married man, Logan." He leaned back in his chair.

"Really? Heh. Congrats, kid, that's great. She must be really somet'in to tie a cowboy like you down."

"Yea, but ahh... she's worth it." Remy slipped into a momentary reminisce. "I'm tellin' you, she's got this sweet li'l accent, a body that makes Remy wanna beg, and eyes that look like jewels I've never seen before. And we both know I've seen enough to compare." The two men smiled. "So when're you going to get hitched, Logan?"

The stout man snorted. "You know me, Cajun, never the time."

"Liar. I like you Logan; I wouldn't mind seein' you wit' Jeannie, even. You'd keep her head in the right spot and I'd have to be blind not to see the looks you give her."

Logan shook his head. "No good. You know the kind of life I live. I wouldn't bring a girl like your sister into it, no matter how I feel about her. She'd be miserable."

Remy smirked. "Well anyway, I came to tell ya' Remy is going to be lying low again for a while. The cops are after me, for murder dis time, so I need to hide it out for a little bit. I'm just askin' that ya' watch over t'ings while I'm gone. I'll be at the Nightcrawler. Keep an eye on my girls- Cher and Jean. Can you do dat for Remy, mon amie?"

Logan assured him he could and with that, Remy was off again- this time not to be seen again for a long time coming.

Detective Summers offered Eric Lensherr a seat in front of his desk. "What can I do for you, Eric?" The two men were mutual friends; Scott had been known to buy stock from Eric and his deceased business partner, Charles.

"The usual, Detective. I will pay you one thousand dollars to find a man by the name of Remy White."

Scott went an unnatural shade of white. One grand: it was a lot of money.

"I know him. Or of him, at least." Scott said.

"Yes, he's quite...renowned in the smuggling business if I'm correct." His voice was dulcet and slightly accented. German maybe? "I believe he killed my business associate, Charles. I trust you've heard."

"Yes, I'm sorry about that, Eric." He pondered ephemerally. "I will see what I can do. It shouldn't be very hard. After all, aren't the police searching for him, too?"

"That's right, but they can do nothing. He will outwit them, I'm sure of it. You, however, I have faith in."

Scott straightened. "Are you aware that White is also a main suspect for the Manhattan Massacre?"

Eric's forehead creased in concentration, "I think I've heard of it. Refresh my memory."

"Six women- dead. It's all over the headlines; they say he's unstoppable...whoever it is."

Outside of the office, Scott's secretary nearly fell out of her seat.

Lensherr rolled his eyes, annoyed. "I wouldn't put it below that cold-blooded killer." He finished tightly, rising to leave. "I will contact you tomorrow." He walked out the open office door, giving a small smile and tip of his hat to Cher.

Cher chewed her pencil nervously. Omigawd! She thought. Remy is suspected of killing all those women? And that man? He doesn't even know them! She grabbed her purse and headed out the door, muttering something about going for a cup of coffee to Scott. She had to find Remy.