Cajun Persuasion
Page 13
“Here’s the problem in a nutshell, as I see it,” Luc said. “The mission for the Street Apostles and the Magdas has never been to take down any crime syndicate, but rather to rescue the victims. Something you’ve been successful at because you operate below the radar. You leave the bigger issue to the bigger guys, or agencies, to handle, right?”
Fleur and Brother Brian and Aaron nodded.
“So, it makes no sense to contact the FBI ahead of time, or the Departments of Justice, Labor, Transportation, or Homeland Security, all of whom deal with some aspect of this sex trafficking, although they would be mighty interested, guaranteed.”
Fleur winced at the mention of all those government entities.
“They would try to use you, Fleur,” Luc went on. “There’s no question in my mind that they would want you for a tool to entrap not just Miguel but some of the higher-ups in the Mexican cartel.”
“But first they would want to try diplomacy. Even with these scumbags. Always the politically correct route,” Aaron opined with more cynicism than she’d heard from him so far. “What they don’t realize is that sometimes the best diplomacy is being able to tell the cretins to go to hell so they’ll look forward to it.”
“Are you sure you’re not Irish?” Brother Brian asked with a laugh. “But, even if we were willing to put this lassie at risk, which we aren’t, the ensuing publicity would surely end our missions in rescuing the girls. Besides which, each of these arms of the government will be pissed off at our infringing on their territories.”
“How about local police?” Luc asked. “Maybe we could set up our own sting to catch Miguel. Yeah, it would be only one guy, but an important one in the sex trafficking trade. And we could turn him over to the feds, but sort of sneaky-like.”
“Sneaky-like? Is that a lawyer term?” Aaron asked Luc.
“Bite me,” Luc replied with a grin.
“Again, we risk publicity,” Brother Brian pointed out.
“Not if we’re subtle,” Luc argued. “My brother Tee-John is a police officer, and my sister Simone is an ex-cop who runs a Cheaters type detective agency. Both of them would know how to set up a sting.”
“No, no, no!” Aaron protested. “We are not using Fleur as bait for some scumbag.”
Fleur turned inch by inch to look at him. “I beg your pardon,” she said.
“Begging pardon is the same as saying you’re sorry,” Aaron said, making a slash in the air, which caused her to shake her head at his foolishness.
She elbowed him and said, “Behave!”
“Don’t you mean click?”
“Is this a private joke?” Brother Brian asked.
“I think they’re under the spell of Tante Lulu’s Thunderbolt of Love,” Luc explained to the priest. “Although you would think a nun or almost-nun would be immune, wouldn’t you?”
“Well, we always said that Aaron could talk the panties off a nun, back when we were flying jets. Seems he’s still trying.” If the twinkle in his eye was any indication, Brother Brian had as much fun teasing Aaron as Luc.
Fleur was also enjoying the blush that colored Aaron’s face.
“Did Tante Lulu give you a hope chest yet, Aaron?” Luc asked.
“She’s tried.”
“A hope chest for a guy?” Brother Brian asked, looking first at Luc, then Aaron. “Isn’t that one of those things girls get to hold sheets and towels and stuff for when they get married?”
“Yeah, but Tante Lulu makes them for the men in her family,” Luc explained, as if that was a perfectly logical explanation. “She has her eye on Aaron and Fleur at the moment.”
“Hello, everyone,” Fleur said, waving a hand in the air. “I’m sitting right here. I can speak for myself.” To Aaron, she said, “I will be part of any operation to get Miguel. I won’t be happy until he’s serving a life sentence in Angola. Do I make myself clear?”
“Loud and clear.”
Now she turned to Luc and, in a much calmer voice, said, “I’m willing to talk to John and Simone, if Brother Brian will sit in on the meeting. His input from the perspective of the Street Apostles and Magdas is essential.”
Aaron asked Luc, “Do you think Fleur is safe here? Maybe Remy’s houseboat would be a better hiding place.”
Luc pondered a moment before replying, “No, it’s anchored too close to Remy’s home and family. Wouldn’t want to risk that.”
“You’re right.” Aaron mused a moment, then brightened. “I know, I could take her to your fishing camp. It’s remote enough that I would have trouble finding it, let alone some Mexican yahoo with killer intent.”
“Me? Alone at some fishing camp?” Fleur shivered, knowing full well what some of those shacks on stilts deep in the swamps were like. Snakes, gators, and every kind of biting insect imaginable.
“I wouldn’t let you go alone,” Aaron said, taking her hand and linking their fingers. “I would willingly make the sacrifice to stay there with you. That’s the kind of guy I am.”
“Fool!” she said, realizing that he’d been teasing, and tried to tug her hand away, but Aaron held on tight. In fact, he rested their double fist on his thigh.
Both Brother Brian and Luc raised their brows at Aaron’s gesture, but then Luc said, “I don’t think a move will be necessary. Yet. Let’s talk to Tee-John and Simone first.”
Aaron nodded. “In the meantime, Snake, you’re welcome to stay here at Bayou Rose. And Luc, could you set up a meeting with John and Simone? As soon as possible.”
“On second thought, don’t schedule that meeting . . . yet,” Brother Brian said. “It may not be necessary.” He took a long swallow of iced tea, then held the glass out to stare at the beverage with distaste, as if he would much prefer it be a cold beer or a strong whiskey. Setting the glass down with a loud exhale, he disclosed, “I hate to add further woe to you good folks, but there’s a reason why Miguel Vascone is in New Orleans at this time.”
His announcement went kerplunk into a waiting silence. Everyone stared at him.
“A reason that may prevent us from going after Miguel before certain other things take place.”
The silence remained.
Fleur felt a chill of foreboding run up her spine.
“A big exchange of ‘goods’ is about to take place between the Dixie Mafia and the Vascone family enterprise in Mexico.”
She and Aaron looked at each other. Why had Brother Brian waited until now to mention this? Why had he let them ramble on about her encounter with Miguel when there was apparently something more important going on? Didn’t he trust them? Or was he wanting to hear about her issues to see how they would tie in with his?
“The Vascones have an order for twelve virgin girls under the age of thirteen, or ten girls and two prepubescent boys, to be delivered to some third world oil tycoon. If the southern mob can deliver them, the Vascones will give them two dozen underage, though experienced, prostitutes from their various brothels.”
Aaron, Luc, and Fleur all sat up straighter.
“You know how the Vascones like to rotate their stables, making it appear as if they always have fresh ‘goods’ on hand,” Brother Brian said to Fleur.
She glanced immediately to Luc, not having realized that he’d been told about her history as a prostitute. Her face flooded with heat, but she couldn’t really complain. Luc wouldn’t have been able to advise them without knowing why Miguel was after Fleur. To her relief, Luc didn’t even look her way. He was too engrossed in what Brother Brian was saying.
“You’re planning a rescue mission, then,” Aaron guessed.
Brother Brian nodded. “Yes, and the more I think about it, it makes sense that Fleur saw the bastard in New Orleans.” The priest didn’t even apologize for his bad language, but Fleur knew from past acquaintance with the man that he often used colorful curses, especially in stressful situations. All the Street Apostles walked a different line than normal priests. A few years back, when Pope Francis chastised the Church’s priests for hidi
ng in their safe sacristies instead of mingling among the “bruised, hurting and dirty,” he probably didn’t have in mind what the Street Apostles did. Then again, maybe he did.
“What’s your strategy?” Luc asked.
“There are still a lot of details to be worked out, but usually, the Vascones move their human cargo from Mexico in a tractor-trailer. They’ll cross from Matamoros to the Brownsville border crossing and from there travel up the coast to a 24-hour truck depot outside Baton Rouge, in Lafayette. That’s where the exchange will take place.”
“Mon Dieu!” Luc exclaimed. “Tee-John should definitely know about this. He’s on the police force in Lafayette.”
“Careful . . . we have to be extra careful,” Brother Brian cautioned.
“Do you plan on involving the feds in any way?” Aaron asked.
“We might have to. One possibility is that we tell them about the new kidnapees only, and at the last minute. Let them handle the operation from the New Orleans end, while we hijack the eighteen-wheeler en route or when it gets to Lafayette. Of course, we wouldn’t mention that it’s an exchange, or even that the truck of human cargo would be coming from Mexico. Otherwise, they would insist on taking over the whole enterprise, and risk losing some, or all, of these girls.”
“Three dozen females!” Fleur exclaimed. “We’ve never dealt with so many rescues at one time. This will be big. Where will you take them? Is the convent equipped for that number?”
Brother Brian put his hands in the air. “All details still to be worked out. One of the Street Apostles is a former Navy SEAL with a talent for battle strategy. Brother Jake has a mind like a computer, spitting out times, routes, contingencies, all that crap. We just feed him the data and let him do the planning. Keep in mind, this all came to our attention just a few days ago. Our informants are still feeding us information.”
Oh, Lord! Fleur had met Jake before, and they were in for it! He’d been her contact, usually via email, for years. An organizational genius, for sure. An overbearing dictator, as well.
“You must have some informant! If you have this intel, why doesn’t the government?” Luc wanted to know.
“Maybe they do, but I doubt it,” Brother Brian answered. “Some of what we learn is passed on through the confessional. Oh, I don’t mean that priests reveal what has been confessed. That’s privileged information, same as rules for lawyers and their clients. But often the sinners then feel the need to repent by revealing the details outside the confessional with the priests steering them in our direction. You have to realize that the Mexican people are largely Catholic, and the church grapevine is amazing.”
“Sacré bleu! Just like the bayou grapevine!” Luc observed.
“I suppose,” Brother Brian agreed.
“You can’t be a part of this exchange mission, not with Miguel recognizing you,” Aaron said to Fleur, back to his protector role.
Did the man ever listen to her? He was not her Prince Charming to the Rescue, not even her Cowboy Prince to the Rescue, she thought, glancing down at his boots, worn even with his pilot uniform.
Seeing the beginning glower on her face, he continued, “It would be even more dangerous than your being the lure in a sting, as we were discussing earlier.” He was still holding on to her hand, even tighter now.
“I will be involved. Get that through your fool head,” she told him and dug her fingernails into his skin. Unfortunately, her nails were short and filed smooth. To Brother Brian, she added, “As long as I can be of use, and as long as the Street Apostles and the Magdas approve.”
The priest nodded, hesitantly, as he watched the interplay between her and Aaron.
“Would any of those women be friends—uh, acquaintances of yours?” Luc asked.
Fleur could tell he felt awkward asking her if they might be fellow prostitutes from her past. She shook her head. “Doubtful. I’ve been gone for ten years.”
“I can see that this is going to take way more planning and expertise than I originally envisioned,” Luc said. “Beyond my scope, for sure.”
“I’ve been thinking. Let’s still plan a meeting for tomorrow with your brother,” Brother Brian decided, “and by then I may have more information from Jake back in Dallas.”
A half hour later, after discussing minor details related to the two situations, Fleur’s and the sex trafficking exchange, Aaron released her hand and stood. He was about to walk Luc to his vehicle out front while Fleur was going to introduce Brother Brian to Samantha in her bedroom. But first, Luc turned to Fleur and said, “There’s a young officer on the Houma police force, Mickey Gaudet. Is he a relative of yours?”
Fleur felt her face heat. “Probably. My younger brother. Ten years younger, in fact.”
“A nice kid,” Luc remarked. “Do you want me to contact him for you?”
“No!” she exclaimed, way louder and with more vehemence than she’d intended. More softly, she said, “That won’t be necessary. I’ve lost touch with all my family.”
She hoped that was the end of the discussion.
But it wasn’t. “Well, then, Sara Sue, a waitress over at Dilly’s Diner, must be your sister. She and Mick are real close, both of them raised in foster care, I hear. I know Mick helped her and her two kids a lot when she divorced Alphonse Fontenot after one too many beatings. Alphie is in Angola presently for assault and battery, thank God.”
Brother Brian bowed his head at the mention of God.
But Fleur was thinking, Oh, no! Poor Sarie! She was a year younger than Mickey. And always so clingy, cowering in corners when Daddy went on one of his shouting rampages, but then she’d only been three when I left. Wait. Did Luc mention foster care? Finally, CPS must have intervened. I wonder when. There were still five kids younger than me at home when I left. Did CPS take all of them?
Panic filled her at the mere mention of her family.
And there was guilt, too. Should she have come back to help those siblings still under that horrid roof when she was able? Not when she’d been first rescued, of course. She’d been in no shape to help anyone, let alone herself at first. But later?
She tried to recall who would have been still at home back then, ten years ago. Frankie, the youngest, would have been only seven, Sara Sue, nine, Mickey, ten, and Mary Elizabeth, or Lizzie, who had Down Syndrome, thirteen. Joe Lee, Eustace, Gloria, and Jimmy had already left home by then, the latter to juvie hall, at fifteen.
But, no, even if she’d been capable, her parents had rejected any overtures from the Sisters of Magdalene on her behalf at the time of her rescue. “We doan take back soiled goods,” her father had declared. And her mother had been no better. “Are ya sayin’ she’s been a harlot fer six years? Oh, Lord! How kin I look at her and not picture . . . oh, Lord!”
Her older brothers, Eustace and Joe Lee, had been no better, even though they’d been twenty-three and twenty-four at the time of her rescue and working on the oil rigs. Joe Lee had laughed at Mother Jacinta when she’d told him of Fleur’s kidnapping and rescue and said something like, “Un-be-fucking-lievable! Maybe I’ve run into my own sister in one of the cathouses down in Nawleans.” And Eustace had been horrified, “I’m married now with two kids. What if some of the men she’s been with came cattin’ around our place?” Gloria, who had to have been twenty-two by then, was nowhere to be found, having run away from home at fifteen, even before Fleur’s kidnapping. Jimmy, at twenty-one, was doing hard time by then, in prison.
The memories still cut deep in Fleur. She was jarred from her painful reverie by Aaron’s voice.
He must have noticed Fleur’s discomfort at the mention of two of her siblings because he was saying to Luc, “Never mind Fleur’s family. Don’t forget yours. Do you want to say good-bye to Tante Lulu before you leave?”
“I better, or she’ll skin my hide,” Luc said.
Fleur shot Aaron a look of thanks.
He just stared at her, then leaned down and kissed her on the cheek before she could draw back.
Fleur was shaken.
But that was nothing compared to what happened later that night when she was in her bed in the attic room.
For the first time ever, Fleur had an erotic dream. No raunchy, slam-bam sex like that depicted in porno films, and, yes, she’d been forced to watch more than a few of those. Teaching tools, the pimps and madams told new recruits before turning their first tricks. No, this was a gentle loving. Coaxing. And, oh, my God, she was aroused, like she’d never been before. Oh, maybe she’d been a little excited when she’d been fourteen and running wild, before her kidnapping, but that had been different, tame, naïve, nothing like this.
Playing a starring role, of course, was Aaron.
They were naked, lying on a bed, she on her back, he on his side leaning over her. Not her small single bed here in the plantation house or in Tante Lulu’s cottage, and certainly not her cot back at the convent. No, it was a double bed covered with silk-soft, pale blue sheets.
The lapping of water could be heard through the open windows where sheer curtains ruffled in the nighttime breeze. The metallic scent of bayou water teased the senses, along with the lemony floral essence of magnolia that grew so abundantly in the humid south.
Maybe it was that fishing camp of Luc’s that Aaron had mentioned earlier. Maybe it was some new place. Maybe it wasn’t a building at all, but a boat. Aaron had mentioned that, too. A houseboat. Hah! More like a love boat. She had to smile at that. But not for long.
“At last,” he whispers, leaning over me as I lie flat on my back. “Finally, you are mine.”
I should be affronted at his possessiveness. I’m not.
“I never thought . . .” I arch my neck, giving him further access to that vulnerable spot at the curve where my neck meets my shoulder.