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."
&nb
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.
Wyatt glanced at him and then away. There was a note of longing in Malichai's voice, one Wyatt was certain he wouldn't want anyone to notice. Growing up poor in the bayou had been a struggle, but they hadn't realized they were poor. Nonny made them feel lucky and very loved. He knew his brothers felt the same as he did about their home.
"Yours was a good childhood," Ezekiel commented.
"Yeah," Wyatt agreed. "The best. We worked hard but we played just as hard." He held up his hand for silence and indicated for Malichai to put his pole down.
Sound travels on these waters like you wouldn't believe. No noise. Ezekiel, can you do your thing with the insects? If they go silent, the guards are goin' to know. We want the alligators to bellow and the frogs to croak.
Ezekiel, even as a boy, could manipulate the insects, calling them to him, sending them away. None of the team knew how he did it, but the ability was an asset unlike any other. He could move without detection through any type of terrain and protect his entire team while doing it. Since his enhancement, Ezekiel's ability had grown into a powerful instrument. He could flood the entire compound with swarms of insects, snakes and frogs should he want to do such a thing.
No problem. Give me a minute to connect. Ezekiel was all business. Once on the hunt, he wasn't a man who joked around like some of the other members on the team - Wyatt included.
We're close then? Malichai asked.
We've got a little tramp through the swamp. It's dangerous. There're a few spongy places in this direction.
Wyatt used the pole carefully, each movement slow and easy, so that even the pole moving through the water made no splash as he used it to push off the bottom and propel them forward through the shallow water toward the shore. The pirogue easily ran onto the ground and all three stepped off.
Gator slide right at your feet, Malichai. Move to your left. You don' want to meet that big boy tonight. He's been around for a long while and he's a wily one. He's eaten more than one huntin' dog for dinner.
That's why you have all those dogs at your place. You use them for hunting, Malichai said.
We also like Nonny to have them around when all of us are gone.
Malichai slid his knife from his boot and stepped away from the muddy slide where clearly a large alligator moved from land to water on a regular basis. The moment they stepped onto land, all three changed subtly, lifting their faces to the air for information.
The five o'clock shadow on their faces along with the small hair on their bodies acted like sonar, a radar to give them precise information on their surroundings. They could tell if a small space was enough to slide their bodies through or if the branches of a tree could support their weight. They knew the location of every animal close to them. They each had allowed their hair to grow longer, believing it aided them in gathering more information as well as keeping them in tune to their surroundings and danger.
Can we use the trees? Malichai asked.
Once we're closer to the compound. We can move fairly quickly through here. There're only a few spots that are dangerous. Watch for snakes.
I'll keep the snakes away, Ezekiel assured.
Wyatt led the way. On land, they made no noise, slipping through the thick brush and reeds easily, their bodies fluid, the roped muscles and flexible spines giving them an advantage as they made their way toward the part of the swamp Nonny had spent years transplanting her medicinal herbs and plants in.
We're right at the edge of Grand-mere's field. The local traiteur has used Nonny's concoctions for years. Wyatt didn't bother to try to keep the pride from his voice.
He remembered as a little boy, coming to this part of the swamp with his grandmother. She carried plants, carefully wrapped to transplant. One by one. She found them in other places throughout the vast swamp land, dug them up in the heat and humidity with mosquitos biting her and tramped through dangerous swamp to transfer them to this section.
Why? Ezekiel asked, surveying the acre of plants.
She told me that we all get old and havin' them in one spot where we could watch over them and take care of them would ensure our families would always have medicine if they couldn't afford modern medicine. Remember she's in her eighties. She was the local pharmacist for years. When the traiteur needed a medicine, she would experiment with plants and herbs until she found the best one that worked. That's what all this is. It's the bayou's pharmacy.
Grand-mere is quite a woman, Malichai reiterated.
Wyatt felt pride in his grandmother and was pleased at the admiration of his friend for her. Nonny wore old clothes and smoked a pipe. She was very traditional in a lot of ways and some people just didn't take to her. He was glad his friends didn't view her at face value.
Malichai and Ezekiel were two of the toughest men Wyatt knew - and he knew plenty of hard-asses. As a rule the brothers kept to themselves. It had taken hundreds of missions before the two had included Wyatt in their small circle of absolute trusted friends.
He had hoped his grandmother would work her spell on them both, but on Ezekiel in particular. His nature, shaped on the streets of Detroit, was already savage. Adding cat DNA made him far more aggressive and dangerous. Grand-mere was a stabilizing influence no matter what. He couldn't imagine anyone resisting her down-home wisdom and the sheer welcome she gave to complete strangers. It helped that already, he could tell, she had their respect.
Dogs, Ezekiel warned. Up ahead and to the left of us.
That would be the corner of Nonny's pharmaceutical field. They spread out, each moving independently of the other, heading for the thick growth of trees outside the tall chain-link fence.
Nonny was right. The fence was overkill for whatever they were keeping hidden from the world. Wyatt caught sight of the sign. Wilson Plastics. Now that was a load of crap, but they'd claim they were researching and needed the security to keep out rival companies. He'd have to send Joe the name of the company and find out who owned it and what they actually did.
Rolls of razor wire had been strung all along the top of the fence. The three-story building was a good forty feet from the fence with no ground cover.
Are they keepin' us out, or somethin' in? Wyatt asked the others.
Good question, Malichai replied. I'd say there's a good chance it's both.
Maybe they really are making dirty bombs in there, just like Nonny said, Ezekiel added. We've got a guard and dog approaching at six o'clock, Wyatt, and I think he's the one that shoved Grand-mere.
Wyatt studied the big man. He moved easily, fluidly. Too easily. The large semiautomatic cradled in his arms looked a part of him.
Something's not right here, Ezekiel said. That's no private security. He knows his way around a gun. And that dog is skilled. He's not for show.
Maybe, but more likely ex-military private security. He just doesn't feel enhanced to me. Good, but not Whitney kind of soldier, Wyatt said.
The dog looked out toward the trees where the three of them were concealed, alerting for just a moment before Ezekiel could calm him.
Dog smells big cats and doesn't like it. He's difficult to control. If I push too hard I could hurt him, Ezekiel warned. You're better with mammals, Wyatt.
You try. I'll save my energy for reptiles.
The handler was skilled as well. He didn't dismiss the dog's seeming confusion. He stopped immediately and shone his light all along the ground leading to the fence on the inside, not the outside. That told Wyatt there was something inside they didn't want out.
You need the practice, Ezekiel, and the dog's listenin' to you. Wyatt wanted to save every bit of energy for dealing with the man who'd shoved his grandmother. He knew he wasn't 100 percent healed, but he wasn't going to wait to give the man a beating.
The guard checked the fence itself next. He stepped up to it with his light and carefully examined all along the chain link, even up to the razor wire. He was thorough in his inspection, taking his time, another mark of a professional. When he was finished, he crouched beside the dog, scratching its ears and talking low while he examined the ground on the other side of the fence.
What the hell is he lookin' for? Wyatt asked.
Not us, Malichai said. It hasn't even occurred to him yet that he might have someone out here watchin' him.
The guard spoke into his radio softly. Wyatt's hearing had always been extremely acute and was even more so from both his psychic and physical enhancements. With the feline DNA, he found he could hear higher pitches far better than he'd ever been able to before.
Did you make out what he said, Wyatt? Malichai asked.
He asked someone inside to check the cells. Cells, not rooms. And I don' think he's enhanced. He's been a soldier at one time, but he's not a GhostWalker.
Wyatt's warning radar was beginning to give him a few prickles. He took a long slow look around, careful not to rustle a single leaf in the tree.
I don' think we're alone out here, boys. You feelin' anythin'?
There was a long silence while both brothers stretched their senses to encompass as much of their surroundings as possible.
Viper Game Page 3
