There was a short silence. He could feel the hurt in her. His words stung. He hadn't meant them that way, but he didn't want his children to have to ever look back and know they'd killed someone when they didn't have to. In the laboratory, they'd had no choice, and he could explain that to them, but in their home, the adults did the protecting.
You're right, Wyatt. I'm sorry. I should have thought of that.
She hadn't because she'd never had a childhood, parents or a family. She thought first like a soldier, not a mother. She didn't have experience to draw from. She had no parents of her own to give her a road map to follow. There would always be gaps in her parenting because of that, gaps he could fill in. She needed him whether or not she wanted to admit it.
Why should you have? You don' have that kind of experience. I was lucky to have Nonny. She taught me a few things that might come in handy. He's on the steps.
Wyatt stepped back to allow Larry to come onto the porch. Malichai, they're restless out here and I can guarantee they'll be on the move the moment we're inside.
No worries, Ezekiel assured, suddenly all business. I've got him covered. I've got a good vantage point.
"I don't know if you've heard of strange happenings in the swamp lately," Larry said, suddenly wanting a conversation. He even managed to pitch his voice friendly.
"There's always somethin' strange happenin' in the swamp," Wyatt confirmed.
Now he knew the reason the guards went to the Huracan Club. They wanted to hear the news, the gossip going around.
"Just go to one of the local bars and you'll hear every kind of story you'll ever want to hear about what goes on in the bayous and swamps," Wyatt said with a small, almost friendly grin. Unlike the guards, he was cloak and dagger.
"We can tell some stories. Funny thin' is, most of them are true." He could be just as chatty as the next man. "We've got the Rougarou. That's a beast, a shapeshifter. Our own neighbors can be accused of bein' the Rougarou. We've got moans and screams and all sorts of strange noises. I've been huntin' the swamps my entire life and I've seen some strange thin's."
He stared into the dog's eyes, keeping command of the animal. "My grand-mere may be tough, but I don' want that animal to bite her. I'd have to kill it, and it's a good-lookin' dog. I know you care for the dog, so you're gettin' that one warnin'."
"He won't bite without provocation or command," Larry assured.
"Then come on in," Wyatt said. "Nonny's in the parlor with her pipe and music. Most nights she smokes on the porch, but once in a while she takes to smokin' in the parlor and then we know to mind our business. She's missin' Grand-pere."
The smell of Nonny's pipe tobacco would also mess with the dog's ability to locate Pepper and Ginger. The aroma of the big pot of jambalaya on the stove and the bread rising beneath the tea towels also helped.
"Nonny." Wyatt raised his voice above the music. "We have company. The gentleman from Wilson Plastics has come to have a word with you."
Nonny took the pipe from her mouth and looked at them. Straight. Her eyes steady. Her mouth firm. She reached over casually and turned the music down, but she didn't turn it off. Nonny would never have a conversation with a neighbor with music playing in the parlor. She would consider that rude. Larry didn't know it, but he'd just been insulted.
She looked pointedly at the shotgun and then back at Larry. "Mights' well take a seat, boy," she said and gestured toward the one closest to her. "Mighty fine dog you have there. I like critters a whole lot better than I do varmints."
That was another veiled insult Larry didn't get. There was nothing wrong with Nonny's mind. She was sharp. Wyatt had to hide a grin and keep himself from kissing his grandmother right there on the spot. She was special, a woman to walk beside a man. He should have known all along that anyone who didn't see that in his grandmother didn't belong anywhere near his family. Joy had not been overly fond of Nonny. He'd been such an idiot over Joy, and he owed his grandmother an apology, possibly a much bigger one than Larry did.
Larry's eyes darted around the room, looking at every detail. This was the parlor Nonny entertained guests in. There was nothing out of place. She'd opened the window behind her as if she blew her tobacco smoke in that direction, but the slight breeze just circulated the spicy scent throughout the room. The dog, instead of alerting, dropped down to Larry's feet and put his head on his paws. Larry relaxed visibly.
They're spreading out and moving around the house, Ezekiel said. Looking for tracks.
I went out this morning, Malichai reminded. There were a couple of small baby prints and smears of blood. They're gone.
Thanks, Malichai, Wyatt said.
He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest, striving for casual, his fingers inches from his throwing knives - and he was very accurate with a knife.
Wyatt, when I brought Ginger here, we were both injured. I hadn't thought about leading them straight to your house. We were going to be in and out in an hour or less. I'm sorry, Pepper said. I know better than that.
She hadn't been thinking like a soldier. The baby was bleeding and so was she. She wanted medical attention for the child, and she knew, as did anyone staying more than a day or two in the bayou, that Nonny Fontenot was the woman to see. If she couldn't fix you up, she called in the local traiteur.
Malichai took care of it, Pepper.
But I led them here. What's wrong with me?
Wyatt felt guilt and even humiliation beating at her. Tears. She was fighting tears. He couldn't have her crying right then, not when he couldn't comfort her. He had to stay focused on the guards surrounding the house.
Honey, don' be gettin' upset over this. We have company and you have to keep Ginger quiet. They'll be movin' around to your windows in a couple of minutes. They won' be able to see in, but they may try to open them. Like I said, those stingin' nettles are there and their boots won' be much protection.
It's the painkillers. I told you not to give them to me.
"Ms. Fontenot," Larry began, glancing up at Wyatt.
"I'm over here," Nonny stated.
She had let the pipe go out. There was never smoking in the house. It was forbidden, especially in the front parlor. She had sacrificed her rigid rule in order to cover the scent of the two fugitives from the dog. The tobacco, combined with the cat scent and Wyatt's firm hold on it, prevented the dog from doing its job.
Wyatt waggled his finger at Larry and the guard whipped his head back around to face Nonny.
Someone's at the window, Pepper said. They're trying to open it. I can hear them cursing.
It was difficult not to laugh. The stinging nettles were carefully cultivated by a woman who had a gift for the land. The plants were tall, thick and spread out, climbing up the side of the house and looking innocent. By now they had wrapped themselves around whoever had stepped up to that window.
I'll bet they're cursing. He allowed laughter to show in his voice.
Wyatt wanted Pepper to relax and realize they could do this. They hadn't even been prepared, but they'd send the guards home empty-handed with no more knowledge of Pepper and Ginger's whereabouts than they had before they came.
"I'm sorry for what I did back there in the swamp, ma'am," Larry said in a little rush. "I've regretted it ever since, and when your grandson came to let me know just how he felt about it, I have to admit, I thought I deserved what I got."
To Wyatt's utter astonishment, Larry's voice rang with honesty. He might be embarrassed to come and apologize to Nonny, but he was more embarrassed that he'd treated her the way he had.
"I don't know what came over me that day. There was a leak in one of the labs and the dog went crazy and I took him out to settle him down. He isn't vicious. He does his job, but he doesn't just attack without provocation. The alarms went off and I don't half remember what happened, other than when I shoved you. It felt like I was moving through heavy fog - that someone else had done it, not me."
Wyatt stiffened. What kind
of chemicals were they testing in that laboratory? Whatever they were, they had affected both the dog and the guard. Had it been on purpose? More than ever he wanted to get into that lab.
"I mostly wanted my knife back," Nonny said. "It's been in ma famille for over a hundred years."
A faint smile appeared. "I really liked that knife." His smile faded. "I never saw anything like it, but every time I looked at it, I remembered what I'd done to you." Larry shook his head. "That's no excuse, but I was raised better than that." He glanced out the window as if he didn't want the other guards to hear him. "I really am sorry, ma'am, and I hope I didn't cause you any real harm."
"I accept your apology," Nonny said. "You're a good boy."
Larry started to rise and then subsided, once again glancing outside, before turning back and leaning toward her, lowering his voice even more. "Ma'am, I've heard you're kind and people around here trust you. There are things, dangerous things around right now. Be careful."
"I've been in the swamp my entire life," Nonny said. "I'm always careful, but thanks for the warnin'."
Larry looked as if he wanted to say something else, but he stopped himself and stood. Instantly the dog came to its feet as well.
"I'm glad I came, ma'am. If you come back out to the swamp to harvest, you won't get the same reception from me," Larry assured. "I'll look out for you."
Nonny smiled at him for the first time. "I'll bring you some beignets and cafe."
Larry nodded and followed Wyatt back outside. On the porch he stopped. "There really is something dangerous loose in the swamp. She shouldn't be out there."
Wyatt studied the man's face. "Did somethin' get out of that lab that could hurt her or anyone else?" he prompted.
Larry shrugged. "Just watch her. I can't say more."
Wyatt nodded toward the two men trying to get into the locked garage. "I understand. Is that why the others are lookin' around my property?"
"Yes." Larry's voice went clipped. Tight. "What's in the garage?"
"I'm a doctor. My equipment and lab are in there. And no one's goin' to go through my things. It's a sterile environment." Wyatt put a little hard-ass into his voice.
Larry and the dog stepped off the porch. He whistled. The two men by the garage turned and noticed Wyatt watching them from the porch. They didn't move.
"You might want to warn them, there's a high-powered rifle trained on them right this moment and the man behind the trigger doesn' miss. Not ever. They break that lock and he'll kill them." Wyatt's tone was back to mild.
Larry visibly paled. He hurried over to the two men. They argued for a moment, and then one of them, Blake, took a careful look around, still shaking his head, clearly not believing.
Put one right in front of his boot. In front, Wyatt emphasized, not in his boot.
The bullet hit dead center, less than an inch from Blake's boot. The sound of the single shot echoed through the bayou. The three men froze, raising their hands slowly. Two more men rushed around the corner of the house and skidded to a halt. One was limping and his clothes were torn up. Wyatt would have bet any amount of money that he would be pulling nettles out of his legs for some days to come. He was going to be one uncomfortable man for a while - and that was if he wasn't allergic.
"Gentlemen," Wyatt said, beckoning them toward him. He waited until they walked slowly up to the porch. "I believe I've been more than patient with you. This is my home and ma famille. I will defend them with everythin' in me. By now, you can tell this isn' my first party. Next time you come round my property without bein' asked, I'll be feedin' you to the alligators."
"Don't think this is over," Blake snarled.
"Shut up, Blake," Larry said. "It's over. These people have nothing to do with our business. We're going," he added.
Wyatt nodded, feeling a little sorry for the man. Larry had a job to do, and he had no real idea of what he'd gotten himself into. Probably most of the other guards were like him. They'd been hired to guard a plastics company that they'd probably been told was a front for a military laboratory. They were convinced someone was trying to break in and get their secrets. The guards had no idea what else was in that laboratory.
Not that he excused them. They knew something else was going on and, although they were leery, they didn't bother to check because they didn't want to lose their jobs. There had to be one part of the building none of them were allowed into. They were told to keep whatever was in there inside, and everything else out. He didn't think ignorance was an excuse, not when you knew your place of business was lying their ass off to the outside world - and to you.
He watched them all get onto the airboat, knowing both Ezekiel and Malichai watched their every move as well. He would definitely need a couple of more members of his team and soon. These men were not part of Whitney's crew. They were civilians, and the GhostWalker teams could get in and out without detection.
The moment Whitney heard that Braden had sent his guards to the Fontenot residence, he would send for his own supersoldiers, and that would make things a whole lot more difficult.
Chapter 9
"Wyatt, I can't do this," Pepper said. He was crazy. There was no other explanation. She hadn't seen insanity in him until this very moment.
"
"
Wyatt grinned at her. "We're just goin' into town, little darlin', nothin' all that difficult. Here's how you do it all nice and easy."
She glared at him while he pulled open the door to the passenger side of the Jeep and gestured.
"Just hop up there on the seat and put your seat belt on. If you don' know how to do that, I'll be more than happy to show you."
She backed away. "I'm not getting in that vehicle, and I'm certainly not going to any town with you."
"Yes, you are. We need supplies. Clothes for the girls. I have to order some things to be delivered. Too many days are gettin' away from us."
"You can go by yourself."
His eyes didn't leave her face and she found herself shivering. She was supposed to be the seductress, not him, yet standing there, draped against the Jeep, his dark eyes moving over her face with faint laughter and way too much intensity, he looked so sexy she was afraid to move an inch, afraid she might fling herself at him.
The terrible hunger that was never sated, that crawled through her night and day without reprieve, had settled on this man. That was a bad thing. A very bad thing. She had to fight herself, her nature, not to deliberately entice him. Not with her voice, her body, her movements.
She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue and instantly his gaze dropped to her mouth. The impact on her was frightening. She took in a deep breath, struggling for strength. His gaze dropped lower, to the fullness of her breasts, caressing her, stroking her soft skin until her nipples peaked. He hadn't even touched her.
"Stop." She whispered it. Implored him. "You have to stop."
"Pepper, get in the Jeep."
His voice was low and firm. Commanding. Affectionate. She'd never known affection. He was getting to her in spite of all her resolve. She took two more steps back, wanting to save him. Going with him would be a disaster. He just didn't understand.
Swift impatience crossed his face. His jaw set. A small muscle ticked there, warning her, and then he was on her fast, so fast, she hadn't even seen him move. His arms swept around her and he lifted her easily off her feet, swinging her up to his chest.
She caught him around the neck, undecided whether or not it was worth it to struggle. He was enhanced. A GhostWalker. There was no winning in a battle of strength. The heat of his body seeped into hers. She was always that little bit cold. He was always so very hot. She felt as if her skin melted into his. He set her body on fire. Fire.
Fear spread through her on the heels of the flames consuming her. There would be no going back if she gave herself to him. She would be lost. Maybe she was already lost, seduced as much by the idea of family as the man himself. Confusion and fear reigned. Like an idiot,
she struggled, even knowing it was futile.
"Babe."
Wyatt's voice slipped under her skin, pierced her heart. Did things to her bloodstream. Her gaze jumped to his. His face was inches from hers. A scant two inches. Her fingers curled hard into his shoulders. She was drowning, and there was no way to save either of them.
His mouth found hers and the world shifted away from her, spun out of control. She could spend a lifetime kissing him and never come up for air. He did things with his mouth she hadn't known were possible. He took complete control of the kiss and just devoured her, his tongue and teeth and all the hot masculine macho sexy energy poured into her, inflaming every cell in her body.
She felt the seat against her back as Wyatt pressed her into the passenger seat, and, still kissing her, snapped her seat belt around her. Only then did he lift his head. She felt dazed. A little drunk even. Her bones had turned to liquid and every brain cell she had was seriously fried.
Wyatt closed her door firmly and she watched him move around the hood of the car to the driver's side. Even the way he moved, all fluid and easy, was sexy. She had sex on the brain. Maybe that was the trouble and once she gave in, she'd be over him.
Wyatt slid in beside her, smoothly clicked his seat belt in and started the Jeep before looking down at her. "Honey, you're broadcastin' loud and clear. You're not goin' to be over me. We're goin' to have sex, lots of it, often, and you're still not goin' to get over me. Just put that right out of your head."
She closed her eyes against his cocky, sexy grin. "You do it on purpose, Wyatt, and you're playing with fire. What happens when I can't resist you anymore and I stop trying to protect you from me?"
"Paradise, sugar, that's what's goin' to happen for both of us."
He set the Jeep in motion, gave a little wave to Ezekiel and Malichai, who were busy with a new security system - cameras, motion sensors, alarms. The Fontenot property was large and they had a lot of work to do to make it into a fortress.
"I can't shield everyone for too long, Wyatt. It takes a toll on me. I don't know why it's so difficult, but after an hour or two I need a respite. My head feels like it's going to explode. What do you think is going to happen when we're in town and I just can't do it anymore?"