“Angelique.”
“So Angelique can go on about her life?”
“Rou says we’re not gonna start payin’ out ransoms for threatenin’ women.”
“I see why he’d come down on that side of the fence. Bad precedent to start. On the other hand, you got a club that’s on high alert and somethin’ to lose.”
“If you’re askin’ would I pay it?” Batiste hadn’t even thought about it until that minute. He took in a deep breath. “I got everything tied up in this business.”
He made a motion between himself and Brant to indicate a shared enterprise.
“Understand. We’ll get some networkin’ started. See if we can find these fuckers and smoke ‘em out in the open. Have you thought through how you see this playin’ out?”
In the sense that Batiste had run through half a dozen horrific scenarios in his head, he couldn’t find a way to a desirable outcome. Someone would always be in danger of being the next Devils ransom payment or his club would be involved in a war that came with a different kind of price. Maybe lives lost. Maybe jail time.
Worse, it could be the beginning of a never ending feud.
The only way he could see to get clear of the Stars and Bars threat was to kill every single one to the last along with any family members who might seek retribution, now or at some point in the future.
Christ.
“Can’t find my way clear to a happy endin’,” he said finally. “If you got ideas, I have ears.”
On the way back to Lafayette, Batiste called Rou and related Brant’s offer.
“What you think?” Rou asked.
“I like havin’ her where I can see her,” Batiste answered honestly, “but givin’ her to Sons’d be the smart thing.”
Rou took a long time to answer, “Makes me think maybe I should get out.”
“Get out? You mean the Devils?” Batiste couldn’t believe that was what Rou meant.
“Someday you’re gonna have kids maybe. When you do, you’re gonna get that nothing is more important. This thing… Putting Angelique in danger. Has me thinkin’. Jolie’s been doin’ some thinkin’, too. In a real loud voice. Doan blame her though.”
“Yeah. You see clear to how this ends?”
“I wouldn’t say I see clear. No.”
“What’re you thinkin’ you want to do when we find ‘em?”
“Like I said, send a messa…”
“No.” It was an emphatic interruption. “Message doan get you where you need to be. Message doan mean much to crazy people. How you gonna be sure Angelique is safe?” Rou was silent. “See? That’s the problem. Seems like we either pay them off or we do perpetual war. Which you want?”
Rou was being required to make a lot of emotional adjustments. His only child was in danger. His club was in danger. And the charter president, who was his junior by a generation, was speaking to him in a way that bordered on disrespect. Something that had never happened before.
Still, he had to give the devil his due. The play on words that went through his head made him smile ruefully. The kid had a point.
“Guess I haven’t been thinkin’ it through.”
“Needs to be done. Yes?”
“Yeah. You got a plan?”
“I doan got a plan. What I got is options and I doan like any of ‘em. But nothing that belongs to Devils is worth a hair on Angelique’s head.”
“For true.” Rou sighed. “We need to find Manatee.”
“Yeah. And this is what we’re gonna do. We’re gonna send your message when you pay the bounty. And the message is that, the next time property of Devils is threatened, Lafayette, Mandeville, and the Austin Sons intend to destroy every last one of them and all their male offspring. No warnin’. No rules of war. Outright massacre. Nothin’ left to tell the tale.”
“Armageddon.”
“That’s right. Armageddon.”
Batiste could hear Rou swallow. “Agree.”
“Good. Takin’ Angelique to Austin tonight.”
CHAPTER SIX Gone
Batiste knocked on Angelique’s door at six o’clock. He saw the surprise on her face when she opened the door. She hadn’t expected it to be him.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hi.” He smiled as he leaned against the door jamb. What he wouldn’t give to see that look on her face every day. He knew he’d never get tired of that. “Change of venue for you. You’re gonna like it. You’re goin’ someplace where they keep the A/C like a refrigerator.”
She liked the idea of nice cold air. She wasn’t sure she was on board with the idea of going someplace else. “Where?”
“Club over in Austin is set up for keepin’ you safe in a way we can’t. The president’s a friend of the club.”
“You mean he’s a friend of yours.”
He treated her to one of his sexy little lopsided smiles. “Yeah. Friend of mine. It’s the best thing I can do for you. Scar and Low are gonna drive you after supper. So get your stuff together now.”
“Wait a minute. Don’t I have any say in this?”
Batiste shook his head and looked like that was an insane question. “No.”
“Is that your favorite word? What if I say no?”
“You can’t say no ‘cause it’s not up to you.”
“It’s not up to me?” She was getting angrier by the second. “I’m a grown woman, Just Batiste. I’m not property.”
“Yeah. You are. You’re Rou’s property I’m lookin’ out for. Maybe sometime you’ll be my property.”
She laughed bitterly. “More biker bullshit. Are you hearing me at all? I’m not my father’s property and, no matter what does or doesn’t happen between you and me, I’ll never be your property either.”
“Shhhh. Calm yourself right down, cher. It’s jus’ a manner of speakin’. Doan take it so personal.”
Her eyes narrowed and she seriously contemplated hitting him in the chest. She decided against it only because she knew that, with her training, she might actually do some damage. Still, Batiste read the flash in her eyes.
“Did you actually shush me like you think I’m a child? I guess you’re not as experienced with women as you like to think if you believe you can tell a woman to calm herself and expect to actually get that result.”
“Well…”
“Well nothing! I’m not going anywhere.”
She turned around, marched back to her bed, sat down, and crossed her arms over her chest. Batiste found everything about that adorable and couldn’t keep from smiling.
After a minute passed, he walked over and sat down next to her on the side of the bed.
“Why is it you doan want that cold air?”
“I want cold air. I just don’t want to go someplace where I don’t know anybody. I keep getting further away from home. And my life.”
Batiste nodded. “We’re workin’ this out, Angel. Gonna be soon, too. These people over in Austin? It’s a good place. You’ll have women to talk to.” She looked at him sideways as if gauging whether or not he was telling the truth. “For true. It’s a family club. Wives come in and out durin’ the day.”
“I don’t want to go,” she almost whispered.
He knew why, but his heart and his male pride needed to hear the words, see them form on her lips, just to make it more real. “Why?”
“You know.”
“Tell me.”
“If I go then tonight at midnight I won’t hear the door creak open. No doggie nails will click on the floor. No sounds of a ratty old sleeping bag going down on the floor. No snoring.”
He barked out a laugh. “I doan snore.”
“Like a freight train.”
“How you sleep then?”
“It’s kind of, I don’t know, comforting. And cute.”
“Cute,” he repeated drily. “I’m president of the Cajun Devils, cher. I’m not cute.”
She gave him a look he’d never forget as long as he lived. “You are, Just. I see the man. I still see the bo
y, too. Always thought you were dreamy.”
His stomach clenched like a vice of longing, but he forced himself to make light of it. “Well, I guess that’s better than cute.”
He took her hand and laced his fingers through hers. “Soon, cher.”
She sighed. “If it’s not soon, I’m not staying there.”
“Okay.”
“I mean it.”
“Okay.” He brought her hand up to his lips and kissed her fingers.
They waited until dark to leave. Angie was sitting on her bed staring out the screen window thinking that she was going to miss sleeping to the night sounds of the bayou, feeling connected to nature with only a screen between her and the wild. Before coming to Lafayette the noise of A/C had been the audio soundtrack to her life. And she hadn’t known what she was missing.
When Batiste came to get her, he stepped inside, and closed the door. She didn’t look up because she knew who it was. His larger than life presence instantly replaced the energy in the room. She took in a deep breath and stunned herself when she felt tears forming and blinked rapidly.
The irony wasn’t lost on her. She’d spent the entire time she’d been there railing against the circumstance and loudly proclaiming that she wanted to leave. Now she was leaving and wanted nothing more in life than to stay.
He stopped in front of her, her eyes even with his chest.
“Is that…?” She reached out and took hold of a bear claw hung on leather that swung when he leaned over.
He looked down. “Yeah.”
She smiled. “I remember getting that for you. I was… I don’t know, twelve maybe. We were coming for Jubilee. I wrapped it in a box and held it in my lap the whole way here. I thought it was the perfect thing.”
“It was. Knew exactly where to find it.” He remembered that day as clearly as if it had been hours earlier.
He’d been looking forward to Angie’s arrival the way some kids look forward to Christmas. At the time he wouldn’t have wanted her to know the anticipation was excruciating, but he’d been in a tree anxiously awaiting the arrival of her family. The anxiety was equal parts excitement and nervousness.
What if she was different? What if she’d forgotten how easy it was for them to be together? What if she’d forgotten their adventures or decided they were childish and silly? What if she was no fun anymore? And, most of all, what if she no longer liked him?
Not wanting to appear too eager, when the Bellefeuilles made their entrance into the lodge, Batiste made sure he was nowhere to be seen. Twenty minutes later he sauntered in, hands in pockets, looking like nothing special was going on. When he allowed his gaze to find Angelique, she was staring at him. Waiting. And he could read the same trepidation in her eyes.
He smiled to give her reassurance that nothing had changed and her face lit up like a thousand watt light bulb. When she stood up, he noticed the little package she held in her hands. He jerked his head toward the back door to indicate that she should slip away and meet him outside.
To twelve-year-olds, six months apart was a lifetime and they were both feeling shy. She shoved the box at him without a word.
“What this?”
“For you.”
He didn’t allow her to see how emotional he felt about getting a present. He was being raised by a single father. No aunts. No grandmothers. No women in his life who weren’t hired to cook or clean or babysit. So presents were very few and far between. Not because his father was mean or stingy. He just didn’t think about gift giving.
Batiste held the box to his ear and shook lightly as he’d seen people do in the movies. There was movement inside but no hint what the contents might be. So he tore off the ribbon, the paper, and opened the box in the most masculine and inelegant way possible.
He held the black latigo lace necklace up.
“It’s a bear claw!” Angie said.
“I can see it’s a bear claw, girl. Why‘d you give me this?”
His reaction caused an instant cloud to form on Angelique’s face. She might have even looked tempted to cry. He cursed himself silently and vowed he’d cut his own fucking tongue out if he could erase that sadness and bring back the walking joy that had been his a minute before.
Batiste had no idea how to accept a gift.
When he saw that tears might form in Angel’s eyes, he put the leather around his neck. “Look here now. See? I like this.” She managed a small smile. “I got nothing for you.”
She opened her mouth to say she didn’t care about that, but he impulsively rushed in and kissed her on the mouth, surprising even himself. When he pulled back, she touched her fingers to her lips, hoping, willing, that sweet tingling sensation to stay there forever.
Neither said anything about the kiss or that it was a first, for both of them, but they filed the memory away in their hearts.
Her eyes traveled up to meet his. “Why are you wearing it now?”
“It’s my gris-gris,” he joked, but then grew serious. “It’s a promise. Woan take it off till I know you’re safe. Safe for true and for good.” He pulled her to her feet. “Jus’ one kiss is all I can afford. Jus’ a little scorch from that fire in here.” He tapped her heart lightly with two fingers. Then grabbing her full attention with a Svengali look, he said, “Think about me and nothing else while you kiss me. I’ll think about you and nothing else.”
She nodded just before he reminded her why she’d thought he was worth waiting for, why she’d wait forever. Following his instructions, it seemed Batiste had accessed the magic of stretching time. The two of them gave themselves up to being in that place at that time, who they were in the moment and would never be again. When Batiste pulled back, tears were streaming down Angie’s face.
“No. No. No. No.” He brought both hands up to her face, cupped her cheeks, and swiped at the tears with his thumbs. “It’s the beginnin’. Not the end. There’ll be so many kisses in our future.” He grinned. “And so much more. You’ll get tired of me.”
She buried her face in his chest. “Won’t get tired of you. Not ever.” She shook her head, rubbing her nose against the soft cotton of his shirt. “You won’t get tired of me either.”
He chuckled. “That for true, cher.”
Angie crawled into the backseat, not looking at her escorts. They gave her the courtesy of pretending they didn’t see that she was crying. She’d assumed Batiste was going to take her, but he said the next day was one of the biggest meetings in connection with the mysterious new business. He said he wished he could send a lieutenant in his place, but he had to be there personally. He stuck his head in the car and said real low so only she could hear, “Gonna make you proud.”
Scar and Low were in the front seat with Low driving. The black SUV was a good choice. With the dark color and dark windows no one could tell who was or wasn’t inside. It was the next closest thing to invisible.
Once through the gate it took another three minutes to the Henderson Levee Road. There was no traffic, but they didn’t expect any on a blacktop road on a week night that far out of town. That changed when they approached Parish Road 659 that would take them to I10.
Two vehicles were blocking the route, lit by the lights of responders. Some kind of van and an older sedan. Looked like there might have been a run-in, although it was hard to imagine how two cars could run into each other when there were so few cars around.
A state patrol vehicle and a tow truck had all lights flashing. A trooper was standing in the road with a baton light, wearing a neon green glow-in-the-dark vest. He held up his hand as they approached.
Low glanced at Scar. “What d’ya think?”
“Looks like a wreck. We can’t turn around. That’d look suspicious. Just ease up and say hello.” As he spoke, Scar was checking that the loaded pistol under his seat was within reach.
Low slowed down and stopped. The trooper came around to the driver’s side and knocked on the window. Low lowered the glass panel. “Officer? What’s goin’ on?”
The trooper shined his flashlight in Scar’s face then in the backseat where Angie sat.
“We’re tryin’ to get this cleared up. It’ll be a couple of minutes.”
“Okay,” Low said. “We’ll head back. Go ‘round.”
“Suit yourself,” the trooper said, just before he raised his gun that had been hidden by the door and shot Low in the face. Scar was reaching for the gun at his feet when a second shot went through his brains and broke the passenger door window.
Normally it takes human beings a few seconds of indecision in a crisis situation to choose fight or flight. Angie’s reaction time was quicker than most. She’d absorbed Gambota’s lessons and integrated them. An unarmed woman’s best chance of survival is knowing her priorities. Run. Hide. Fight.
She opened the door on the far side of the vehicle and fled into the darkness, running as fast as she could over uneven ground in ballet flats that were supposed to be used for looking cute, not running for your life. She tripped over fallen logs, ran into dead tree stumps, and got bogged down in places where mud collected. All the while she knew they were coming. As much as she wanted to stay in control and keep the panic at bay, fear was winning.
There was a sharp sting in her back. At first she thought she’d been bit by a snake, one of the seven venomous kind, and that she was feeling the poison start to work its way through her system.
It wasn’t a snake. The sting was delivered by a tranquilizer gun with a red laser mount. The biker who’d taken a beat down from the girl in New Orleans, Howly Howeth, had also been subjected to as much ridicule as he ever wanted to have to endure. He wasn’t taking any chances on a second go at Angelique Bellefeuille. She’d sleep until Manatee was good and ready to have her awake. And be no trouble. At all.
It had cost Stars and Bars more than most of the members made in a month to get hold of a trooper’s uniform and ride. The rest was easy. One of the members had a third cousin who was a tow truck driver in Baton Rouge. He was just happy to get the job of sitting around being a prop in exchange for what he’d usually charge to show up at an accident.
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