Branded: Savannah: Sisters Bound By Blood

by Karen Kelley

  "The swamp is where you used to hunt alligators, right?" Savannah asked. She wasn’t so sure about this. Alligators reminded her of prehistoric creatures, ready to eat anyone alive who crossed their path.

  "Yeah, that's right. But the swamp is more than that."

  She watched his expression change. It was almost as if he were back there right now instead of in his friend's pasture, showing her how to shoot a gun. There was something in his eyes. A look of longing.

  "Tell me more about the swamp," she said.

  "I used to take my pirogue out early in the morning.”

  “You’re what?”

  He smiled. “It’s a boat without a motor. You push through the swamp with a long pole.”

  “Tell me more.”

  “The swamp is thick with cypress trees, but every once in a while, there will be an opening, and a patch of sun will land on the murky water. There's a peacefulness that I don't think I’ve found anywhere else.”

  It sounded nicer than she’d thought. She could almost picture them on a boat, gliding through the water as Breaker pushed with a pole. She sighed, imagining a lazy day with just the two of them. Her, Breaker, and the alligators. She mentally shook her head and listened to what he was saying.

  "Just when you think you're all alone in your boat, you go around the corner, and there'll be a shack with kids running around or a houseboat anchored to a tree."

  She made herself comfortable on the tailgate of the pickup, then leaned back on the palms of her hands as she listened intently to Breaker as he told her about the swamp.

  "Most people who live in the swamp are Cajuns, and they speak a form of French unique to the region. Sometimes it’s hard for outsiders to understand them."

  She sat forward. "Do you speak it?"

  "A little. Not much anymore. My father wasn't true Cajun. Whatever I learned came from my mother's side, but I was young when she passed on. My father stayed on the land that was hers, and we lived in the house that was already on it. He didn't associate much with her family, so I didn't get to see them very often. Sometimes I would make my way through the swamp and visit them on my own. My grandmother was the one who encouraged me to leave the swamps after my father poached, and I was taught a lesson because of what he did."

  "And you think we will be safe there?"

  "Yes, I do. There's also a dark side to the swamp. If you don't cross the line as my father did, they pretty much take care of their own."

  "But it has been a long time since you've been back. What if they don't remember you?"

  "That's the thing about Cajuns. They never forget a stranger once they’ve crossed their path or a family member."

  "How do you feel about returning?"

  "I'd been planning to anyway. The only reason I didn't return sooner was that I got into a little bit of trouble when I was living on the streets." He grinned. "The judge gave me a choice. It was either jail or join the Army, even though I was only seventeen at the time. I chose the Army. It gave me something that I never really had. You asked about siblings once. My brothers are my team. I'm closer to them than I am to someone who has the same blood running in their veins that I do."

  "And you think your family will help us?"

  "I know they will." He was thoughtful for a moment, then reached in his pocket for his phone. He quickly punched in some things, then looked up with a smile. "I can show you a little about what it's like to be Cajun. Believe me, it's a whole different species of people. It's a wonderful culture."

  "Are we going into the swamp tonight?"

  He laughed. "No, but there’s a Cajun festival a couple of towns over. I went to this one last year, and I think you'll enjoy it. You’ve had enough driving and shooting lessons for today. It’s time to relax and have fun." They got inside the pickup.

  "I'd like that." She closed her door and fastened her seatbelt. It was funny how she didn’t think about Marco much anymore. The only problem was that he and his men were still out there, searching for both of them now. "Are you sure it's safe to go out in public?" she asked after he turned the pickup in the direction of home.

  "If Marco or his men show up, they’ll stick out like a sore thumb."

  Savannah wasn't quite as sure about everything as Breaker. He seemed almost excited about the prospect of coming face-to-face with Marco. He didn't know Marco like she did. She'd watched him kill a man just because he didn't shine Marco's boots good enough for him. Marco was crazy.

  "Relax," Breaker said. "Everything will be okay. You just have to trust me. Besides, I have my team watching Marco and his men. The moment they step into Louisiana, I'll know it."

  Finally, some of her stress began to evaporate. Breaker was right. She needed to trust him. She leaned back against the seat and watched out the window as the rolling scenery passed.

  Once they were back in the apartment, she took her shower first, then went to her room to dress so Breaker could have the bathroom next. She was excited about the prospect of going out. She’d gotten so used to never leaving Marco’s home, unless she walked outside for a bit, that she hadn’t realized just how much of a prisoner that she’d become.

  An hour later, they were on the road again. She glanced across the seat. Just watching Breaker started a small fire inside her. He wore a black T-shirt and jeans. He’d only trimmed his beard and mustache. There was something devilishly attractive about him. He was all hard muscle with an arrogant swagger.

  But she knew he could turn deadly in an instant. She’d learned that the first night when Marco’s men had caught up to them. She felt safe with him, and she hadn’t felt like that in a very long time.

  "You look nice tonight," he said, interrupting her thoughts.

  Savannah smiled, enjoying his compliment. He’d told her to dress casually. It was still warm and muggy outside. She’d chosen a pair of dark green shorts and a white shirt that buttoned down the front.

  "Thank you. You look nice, too," she told him. In fact, it was difficult not to stop staring at him.

  Right now, he was smiling. But she’d also seen another side of him, much like that first night with Marco’s men. When a rowdy group of men came into the bar one night, he’d been like a coiled snake ready to strike. His eyes had changed from a warm gray, to cold steel.

  One of the men in the small group had come to his feet. Everything about the burly man had said he was ready to fight Breaker. At least, until he got one look at Breaker’s expression and the way he stood, as if he was ready for anything.

  Breaker almost dared the man to say something. The guy quickly apologized, then sat back down. It wasn't much longer before the group of men left. She had a feeling Breaker didn’t back down very often, and he would’ve taken them all on and enjoyed every second. That probably worried her more than anything.

  When they got to the festival, Breaker found a parking space and pulled into it. As she got out, Savannah looked around. It reminded her of the pasture where she was learning how to drive and shoot, except someone had thrown up a lot of white tents in different sizes—some small, some large.

  But she smiled as soon as they got out of his pickup and she heard the music. It reminded her of the band that came to the bar.

  "There's nothing like Zydeco music," Breaker said as if reading her mind.

  She nodded. "I like it." There was already a bounce in her step.

  She could feel the excitement building inside her as they walked toward the biggest tent, where the sounds grew louder the closer they got. It flowed around her and set her pulse beating faster. The accordion, guitars, a drummer, a fiddle player, and a man who played the metal washboard with spoons.

  Once inside, Breaker pulled her into his arms.

  She nervously glanced up at him. “I don’t know how to dance.”

  “It’s easy,” he told her.

  She wasn’t so sure about that.

  “There are three main dances when it comes to Cajun music. The Cajun jitterbug, the waltz, and the two-ste
p. We’ll concentrate on the two-step since it’s the easiest. It’s two steps one way and then two steps the other. Have you got that?”

  She nodded, ready to try.

  He moved, and she followed. At least, she attempted to follow.

  Two steps one way, step on Breaker’s foot, apologize, two steps the other way. Try again. Two steps one way, two steps the other. Okay, a little better this time. Thank goodness they were playing a slow tune.

  "Okay, now we’re going to travel. As we go forward, it’s just walking forward two steps to the right, then two steps to the left. Got that?"

  She nodded, looking down at her feet. Okay, this seemed easier. She was basically just scooting forward. After a few minutes, she had it down perfectly.

  "Ready to try the waltz?"

  Breaker was a good teacher. She felt comfortable dancing with him, and it didn't seem as if anyone was paying attention to them, so her confidence grew.

  "Let's do it."

  "That's the spirit. This time it’s one longer step followed by two smaller steps."

  She caught the beat of the music. It took less time to learn the flow of the steps. When they got to the end of the dance floor, Breaker took her hand and twirled her. She laughed with delight.

  They danced a couple more sets before Breaker pulled her off the dance floor. "I knew it. You’re a natural."

  "It's so much fun. I love the music. The sights and sounds and the festivity. I've never experienced anything like this."

  "I'm glad you're enjoying yourself."

  They grabbed some drinks and began sampling the local cuisine. Etouffee, gumbo, alligator sausage—which she wasn't sure about trying, but did, and found the meat a little tough, but the seasoning on it was delicious. They walked around a little more, then had beignets and came away with powdered sugar all over them and laughing like little kids.

  "There's another food place…" Breaker began.

  She held up her hands, laughing. "No, no more food. I feel as if I'm about to bust now."

  He sighed deeply. “No more food.”

  They continued on and checked out the crafts. There were wooden bowls, cups, and plates carved out of cypress trees from the swamp. She picked up a small vase, running her hand over the smooth surface. The craftsmanship was superb.

  She unashamedly listened to the talk going on around her. Breaker was right about it being hard to understand at times.

  “What for you wanna do dat?” an older man asked a woman that Savannah figured might be his wife.

  The woman turned and cocked an eyebrow in his direction. “You be tellin me I don’t, you?”

  Savannah smiled as they walked around some more. There was so much flavor here that it was almost too much to take in all at once. Their heritage was rich and sometimes diverse.

  They stopped at the tent with all the music and worked off some of the calories they'd consumed. By the time they left the festival, she was exhausted and excited all at the same time. There'd been so much to see and do that she was almost in sensory overload.

  She felt good, though. She’d missed out on so much in life. She didn't realize how much until she’d broken free of Marco. No, it wasn't just gaining her freedom. Breaker was showing her how to live again.

  "What are you thinking about?" he asked.

  "About how happy I am."

  He reached across the seat and squeezed her hand. Warm tingles spread over her. “I had a good time tonight.”

  She laughed lightly.

  “What?”

  “You were right about the Cajun dialect. Some of it I could understand and some not so much, but it had such a wonderful sound that I think I could listen to it a lot longer.”

  “Even the husband and wife when they were arguing?”

  “Yes, even them.”

  “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.” He suddenly frowned.

  She stilled. “What?” Didn’t he have a good time?

  “Why did you lie and tell me you were twenty-two when you’re only nineteen?”

  She opened her mouth, then closed it, twining her fingers together. “I’m sorry I lied. I was afraid you would think I was too young and maybe take me to the nearest police station. Marco has people on the inside. Cops who are on his payroll.”

  “I still would’ve taken you somewhere safe.”

  She sighed deeply. "I know that now, but I didn't at the time. Besides, I felt a lot older than nineteen." She glanced across the seat. "Sometimes, I felt like I was closer to thirty."

  “Yeah, I can understand that. When you have to grow up fast, it can make you feel older.”

  “I won’t ever lie again,” she promised.

  “I know.”

  They fell into a comfortable silence for the rest of the way home. Then later, after they had made love and she snuggled against Breaker's chest, something deep inside her said this was exactly where she was supposed to be. Breaker made her feel warm and safe when she was next to him. His arms wrapped around her, and one of her legs nestled between his.

  The room suddenly darkened, as if beyond the window, a cloud had drifted in front of the moon. Did the universe taunt her? No, it was something far more sinister. Marco was still out there, and he was still looking for them.

  "Shh, I'll protect you," Breaker whispered close to her ear.

  Except, she knew the kind of man Marco was and what he was capable of doing. She wasn't sure Breaker did.

  ***

  Breaker danced her around the room, spinning and twirling her until Savannah was laughing uncontrollably. She was light on her feet and free. Nothing could harm her as long as he was with her.

  He whirled her around, and she kept spinning and spinning and spinning until she landed against a solid chest. She laughed when she looked up, but her laughter died as she looked into Marco's cold, hard eyes.

  She stumbled back a step. No, this couldn't be! Breaker promised to protect her. She frantically looked around the now empty room. She didn't see him anywhere.

  "He's not here, Chica. Did you forget that you belong to me? I'll never let anyone else have you. You're my pet. I can do anything I want to you."

  She shook her head. "No!"

  He laughed, the maniacal sound bouncing off the walls that were slowly closing in on her.

  "You'll never be able to escape me. I will kill your lover, but I will never kill you. Not until you grow old and ugly. Until then, you are mine and mine alone. It's a shame that you had to bring all of these people into your life. Their blood will be on your hands."

  ***

  Savannah woke up with a start. Her gaze swept around the room. She was in Breaker's bedroom, alone. She drew in a deep, shuddering breath. It was only a bad dream.

  She pushed the cover back and sat on the side of the bed, getting her bearings. Once she calmed down, she grabbed Breaker's T-shirt off the floor and pulled it on, then padded out of the room.

  Silence.

  She didn't hear anyone in the bathroom, and he wasn't in the kitchen. There was a piece of paper with a magnet holding it on the refrigerator.

  Gone down to the bar. You were still sleeping, and I didn't want to wake you. Man, you sleep sexy.

  I left breakfast on the table. See you soon.

  B

  She looked over her shoulder to the table, then smiled. There was a box of cereal sitting in the middle, along with an empty bowl and a spoon. He told her cereal was the one thing he was good at fixing for breakfast.

  Laughter bubbled out of her. She hurried to her room and grabbed clean clothes, then headed for the shower. She would skip breakfast this morning. She wanted to see Breaker. It hadn't been that long since they were in each other's arms, but she felt as if something was missing when he wasn't around. Besides, he thought she was sexy.

  What were these strange new emotions? She would explore them later.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Marco pulled his phone out of his pocket when it began to ring. He flinched when he saw the
name on the screen.

  Francesco.

  For a moment, he thought about not answering but quickly decided against it.

  "Francesco."

  "You lost our drug shipment because of that woman," Francesco spat without giving Marco time to say anything else. "I trusted you. Gave you an area to control because you said that you could handle the responsibility, and this is the way you repay my generosity?"

  Marco’s lips compressed into a thin line. "She is with a man. It is the man who did this. I will take care of him."

  "And your warehouse? They destroyed it as well. What are you going to do to replace the drugs? You still have to keep our suppliers happy. They will not be happy if they don't get their product."

  He knew this. Did Francesco think he was an idiot? None of this was his fault. It was Savannah and that man. Maybe he would kill her as well.

  No, he wanted her to suffer for what she had done to him. Every day, he would make her pay. And he would force her to watch as he slowly killed her lover. His fist clenched when he thought about her with another man. She was his, and his alone.

  "Maybe you're not the right man to run San Antonio," he told Marco, his words cutting sharply as if Francesco held a knife to his throat and slowly sliced across it. "Your brother, Juan, is older, is that correct?"

  He gripped the phone tighter. "He is my half-brother. A bastard. Out of the kindness of my heart, I gave him a job."

  "I've heard good things about him. I'll keep that in mind. Clean up your mess, or I will put someone in charge who will."

  Francesco ended the call without another word. Marco slid his phone back inside his pocket. Juan was just coming in the back door. Their father had practically legitimized his half-brother. He was the son of his mother's maid. He was not pure blood. Juan had the blood of peasants running through his veins.

  Still, he studied his brother with a critical eye. He might be their father's firstborn, but he didn't have the same lineage as Marco's. But had he been talking to Francesco? It was possible.

  "Marco, you look worried. Is everything okay?"

  "Does everything look okay?” he ground out. “They blew up my boat with the drug shipment and destroyed my warehouse. How do you think I feel?" He drew in an angry breath, forcing himself to calm down. "Do you have anything for me?"