He hadn't ever let himself believe, not for one minute, in spite of Nonny warning him a time or two, that Joy Chassion was playing him, using him until someone came along who could get her out of the bayou. He hadn't wanted to know - to believe - to even consider for one moment that his judgment could be that bad.
He'd never had that kind of hurt before and he sure as hell never wanted to experience it again. He'd sworn off women. They were unreliable and untrustworthy. He'd be damned if he ever went down that road again. And worse, he couldn't trust his own judgment. Joy hadn't been worth it, and the sad truth was, he'd never really been in love with her, only with his own fantasy. He'd made a damn fool of himself and he'd have to live with the consequences for the rest of his life - and so would his family. Nonny was going to have to look elsewhere for babies.
The funny thing was, he must have known all along that Joy couldn't be trusted. She wanted money and a different life. He had the ability to give her both, but he never told her. Never wanted her to know. She had to love him for who he was, not what he could do for her.
Wyatt shook his head. "Grand-mere, I've been braggin' to Malichai and Ezekiel that there's nothin' quite like our cafe and beignets. They've never had them before."
Nonny looked both shocked and horrified. "Never?"
She got up immediately and went to the warmer, where she removed a large platter of beignets. She placed it squarely between the two men and marched back to get the hot black coffee for them.
Wyatt waited until she was seated again and his two friends were covered in powdered sugar. He leaned toward his grandmother, holding out his hand to her. "Your phone, Nonny. I want to see what these men look like."
She pulled the small cell phone from the pocket of her sweater. "I took several. Those are the men who trampled my plants. The one with the dog tried to scare me, but I whispered to it and it stopped showin' me its teeth. He wasn' too happy and I was afraid I mighta gotten the dog in trouble."
Malichai and Ezekiel both put down their beignets to study the series of photographs on her phone. Most were quite clear in spite of the fact that she was taking them on the sly.
"Which one put his hands on you?" Ezekiel asked.
"You sound jist like my boys. No sense in gettin' everyone riled up. My dress and jeans came out clean and I woulda had to wash them anyway."
Wyatt stiffened. "What does that mean? You fell?" he demanded. "Did you fall down? Did they push you?"
"I said they put their hands on me and I kicked one where it counts," she reiterated. "He didn't like it much, 'specially when his friends all laughed at him."
This time the table actually shook. It was no slight tremor. Wyatt got up and paced across the floor trying to rid himself of restless energy - energy that could easily get out of hand with his kind of temper.
"He shoved you into the swamp?" He managed to get each word out between his teeth. He glared at Malichai, who had begun eating the beignets again. "He shoved her and you're eating?"
Malichai's eyebrow shot up. "Fuel, my man. One of us has to be efficient when the two of you are hotheads. Nonny, out of curiosity, were you aware you raised a hothead?"
She nodded thoughtfully. "I did, Malichai. I did. I thought he might grow out of it, but like his brothers, he's got that Cajun temper and it just grew up right along with all of them."
"You should have told me immediately that these men pushed you down, Nonny," Wyatt said. "It's no laughin' matter. I thought maybe they got a little overzealous tryin' to guard their plant when somethin' went wrong, and that was bad enough but..."
He raked both hands through his hair and his eyes glittered like a hungry cat hunting prey. "Shovin' you? Pattin' you down? Threatnin' you? No, that's intolerable. I think I need to have a little friendly chat with these men."
Ezekiel rose and pushed back his chair, reaching for the plates. "Thank you for such a fine meal. I'll just do up the dishes, Grand-mere, and then we'll go see about reading from the good book along with Wyatt."
Malichai shoved both chairs back into the table and helped gather the bowls. "Magnificent meal, Nonny. I'm actually full... for the time being."
"Leave the dishes, boys," Nonny said. "I'll get them done. You boys don' be out too late, and Malichai, there'll be somethin' hot on the stove when you come back in."
Chapter 2
"We're goin' to take the pirogue so we can go in quiet," Wyatt announced as he stepped off the porch. "Neither of you has to come with me. I'm goin' in soft, just a recon to see what I'm up against."
"Like hell we're going to let you go alone," Malichai said. "I ate a lot. I need a little exercise before going to sleep." And I don't believe for one minute you're going in soft. I'll just tag along and make certain you behave yourself.
Wyatt sent him an innocent look.
Ezekiel nudged his brother. "You just want to walk off the dinner so you can eat more. I swear, Malichai, you should weigh five hundred pounds."
"I got all the good genes," Malichai said, and stepped onto the pirogue. "What the hell is this contraption? Are you certain it's safe?"
He peered into the black water. Hanging like great ropes, vines of moss dangled from the cypress trees, sweeping the water with thin, feathery arms, creating a macabre effect. The humidity was extremely high, so that everything in the night seemed to move slow and easy, and even the air seemed to enter lungs slow and lazy.
Ezekiel studied the small, flat-bottomed wooden craft that appeared to be made from a tree trunk. The last thing he wanted to do was to find himself in the dark water with snapping turtles, snakes and alligators.
Wyatt leaned on a long pole. "The water's shallow. If you can't stay balanced, no worries. You'll only go up to your thighs. Or waist. Unless we hit a pocket where the bottom falls out."
Ezekiel shot him a glare. "I'm armed, you cretin."
Wyatt laughed. "If you prefer, you can hang out here and Grand-mere will keep you safe with that shotgun of hers."
Ezekiel stepped carefully onto the pirogue. "That's one hell of a woman. Do they even make them like that anymore?"
Wyatt pushed off carefully using the long pole. Malichai picked up the other one to help. He watched Wyatt and then mimicked his movements.
"I think my brother Gator got the last one," he admitted. "She carries a big-ass knife and isn't afraid to use it. The first time I ever saw her, she broke into our home, crept up on Gator and stuck a knife to his throat. He stole her motorcycle, and she took my Jeep. It was a really interestin' relationship."
"My kind of woman," Ezekiel said.
"She's one of us," Wyatt added. "A GhostWalker."
"I figured she'd have to be if she managed to get the drop on your brother," Malichai said. "He's got a badass reputation."
He took a careful look around him. It was dark and eerie in the bayous. The network of canals was hidden from one another by tall reeds and strips of land with weeping cypress trees.
"A man could get lost around here," he observed. "I've never had trouble in jungles or desert, but this is something altogether different."
"I grew up here, Malichai," Wyatt assured him. "This was my play yard. We hunted and fished here. We had crab and crawfish traps we attended to daily before we ever went to school. We used a rowboat to take us to the French Quarter where we caught the buses to school."
"What did you hunt?" Ezekiel asked.
"Anything we could eat. We couldn't afford ammo, so every single bullet had to count. We didn't miss."
"Did Grand-mere teach you to shoot?" Malichai asked.
Wyatt nodded. "With guns, knives and a bow and arrow. We all had chores. Once a year we collected the moss from the cypress trees and laid it all out to dry. It was a big job. There were five of us and we used the moss to stuff our mattresses. We needed a lot of it. That's what we slept on."
"I noticed a lot of the furniture was thick and sturdy and carved out of wood," Malichai said. "Whoever did the furniture making was good."
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sp; Wyatt smiled at him. "We got good. After a few chairs collapsed and we broke the sofa once, we learned if we wanted a chair to sit in, or a table to eat at, we'd better do a good job. We offered to buy Nonny all new furniture after we were grown and a little more successful, but she loves the things we made. She's very sentimental."
"I wouldn't give it up either," Ezekiel said. "I thought the table and chairs were unique and quite comfortable. Did you carve those chests in the hall by the stairs?"
"Each of us carved one. They're marriage chests. Nonny wanted us to have them for our brides. Gator took his, and Flame was particularly happy about it. She didn't have a family and I think the chest and things inside it made her feel connected, really part of our family - which she is."
"Did Grand-mere make those quilts?" Malichai asked.