Authors: Sharon Sala
Sam looked over his shoulder then lowered his voice. “You set the fires?”
“I’m just sorry he wasn’t tied to a stake in the middle of it.”
Sam grabbed his brother’s arm. “Listen, get that attitude out of your system and do it now. You do not want him to know this. Ever.”
Chance shoved Sam’s hand away. “You don’t know what I want,” he said, then staggered back toward the tractor. “I’m going to the house, and then, I’m going home. Our jobs here are over.”
He walked off, leaving Sam to follow. By the time Sam got back to his truck, Chance was on the tractor and driving out of the field.
“Where’s he going?” Anson asked. “I wanted to talk to him, too.”
“I didn’t know that. I told him to go home and sleep it off.”
Anson swiped a hand across his face and then looked out at the blackened area, trying to figure out what happened.
“Cops didn’t do this. They’d still be out here gloating and waiting to arrest me.”
Sam’s mind was racing, trying to come up with a story that would get Anson off their case.
“What about that thief? The one who kept stealing a little of your stuff? What if he got greedy, came in and cut down a whole bunch of it, and then set the fire to hide the theft?”
Anson looked again, trying to imagine something like that happening, and realized it was a damn good theory.
“You may be on to something, son. So we’ll keep an ear to the ground, and if we hear of someone new with a big load to sell, I’ll be paying him a visit.”
Sam nodded.
“Take me back to the house,” Anson said. “I need to call Riordan.”
“Oh man, was he coming?” Sam asked.
Anson nodded as he got into the truck and then glanced out the window one last time. “This couldn’t have happened at a worse time. I spent a lot of money fixing up the place, and I’m low on ready cash.”
“So we’ll replant,” Sam said.
Anson didn’t comment, and Sam had no idea what was going through his mind except that he was too damned quiet. He started toward home with a heavy heart, still worried that Anson would find out what Chance had done.
As for Anson, he hadn’t been this high since before he was married, and he was having trouble focusing his thoughts. He liked Sam’s theory that they’d been robbed, although something like this had never happened before. Before today, he would’ve sworn there wasn’t a man living with the guts to steal from him. But there was that thing with the whore who’d gotten the best of him, and he’d never been tricked like that, either.
So when did things begin to change? He thought back to the day he’d poured coffee on Delle’s feet. Brendan had knocked him on his ass and then shot that gun in his face, something he would’ve sworn could never happen. He’d planned a revenge that would gut Brendan’s life. But maybe he should’ve done something sooner. Maybe he’d let the negative stay with him too long and it was affecting everything that happened after.
He thought about the coffin on the doorstep and what he’d done with it. Everything he’d planned on that caper had worked like a charm. But the voodoo hadn’t been meant for Voltaire. It had been sent to him. What if there
was
something to that voodoo? What if he really had been cursed? And if he had, how did he get rid of it?
By the time they got home, Chance was long gone and the tractor was parked in the middle of the back yard. Anson frowned.
“Why did he leave that tractor out?”
Anxious to make sure Anson didn’t view Chance’s behavior as vengeful, he answered quickly. “He’s just as high as we are, Daddy. Probably didn’t know what he was doing.”
Anson reached for the door handle. “I’m going to bed,” he said, then almost fell on his face when he got out.
Sam heard him curse, then waited until he was all the way inside the house before he backed up and started home. So far, the only good thing about this day was that he’d gotten so high that the pain from the dentist visit was gone.
Chapter Seventeen
Brendan had been on his laptop most of the morning, scanning for jobs in his area. It was just after lunch before he got enough free time to take another bag of Julie’s clothes to her grandmother’s house.
He exited the apartment building with a suitcase in one hand and his car keys in the other, then dropped them on the sidewalk. The clink woke the old tomcat asleep under the shrubs, and when he bent down to pick them up, he got an angry hiss for his trouble.
“Sorry, dude.”
The cat slunk away into the shadows as Brendan hurried to his truck. Moments later, he was on his way across town. He had just braked for a red light when his cell phone rang. When he saw it was Sam, his heart skipped a beat.
Sam rarely called, and never in the daytime when he was with Anson.
“Sam? What’s wrong?”
“Everything. All three of the fields are gone. Burned to the ground.”
“You’re kidding! What happened? Did the DEA finally find them? Are you guys in trouble?”
“No, and this is what you can’t tell. Chance and Daddy got into it the other day and this is the result.”
“Holy shit! What set Chance off?”
“There was a water moccasin coming through the grass toward Chance, and Daddy just set there watching it without bothering to warn him. I happened to see it just in time, killed the snake, then called Daddy on it. When Chance found out, he tore into Daddy then headed for the house. He told me on the way home that he’d make him sorry, and this is the result.”
Brendan knew he should’ve been shocked, but he wasn’t. Anson was crazy mean, and playing Russian roulette with a deadly snake was right down his alley.
“My hat’s off to Chance. He knew exactly how to make him sorry.”
“Daddy thinks someone just stole it all and then set the place on fire to cover up the theft.”
“How did he come to that conclusion?” Brendan asked.
“Someone’s been stealing a little here and there for over a year. When Chance told me what he’d done, I had to think fast to make sure Daddy didn’t start blaming one of us, and that’s what I came up with.”
“Not bad,” Brendan said, “but how’s Anson taking it? Has he turned into a raving maniac yet?”
“No, but I think it’s because we’re all three stoned out of our minds. The fields were all engulfed by the time we got there. We fought fire all morning to put it out and smelling burning pot is just as bad as smoking it.”
Brendan sighed. The light turned green. He accelerated through the intersection.
“And that’s not all,” Sam said. “Chance quit. Daddy doesn’t know it. He just thinks he went home to sleep it off. When he finds out, he’s not only going to be pissed, but he’ll start thinking, and when he does that, he might figure out what happened.”
“So, Chance finally quit. What about you?”
“I don’t know. I can’t think right now. I’m going to sleep this shit off and then go to confession. I haven’t been to church in a long time, but I feel like things are beginning to come undone, and I’m scared.”
Brendan frowned. “I’m sorry, Sam. You know I’ll help you any way I can.”
Sam laughed softly. “Thank you, little brother, but I don’t think there’s much anyone can do. Right now, I’m between a rock and a hard place. I don’t want to alienate myself in case Mama and Linny come home.”
“Oh, they’re going home, all right. I just don’t know when. Mama is already talking about it,” Brendan said.
“Then I for sure need to stay on his good side. As long as I’m around, Daddy has to stay accountable for his actions. So, I’ll talk to you later. Take care, little brother. I’ve got to lie down.”
“Yeah, thanks for calling,” Brendan said, but the line was already dead. “God in heaven,” he said softly, then dropped the phone in the console.
Like Sam, he was scared, too. So much of their lives were based on secrets and lies, and now there were more lies—bigger lies—lies that could get his brother killed. By the time he pulled up at Portia March’s house, he’d shifted mental gears. He had to put a good face on the day for Julie and began looking around for the reporters she’d been worried about, but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. As for Julie, she already had enough to deal with, and the less she knew about his family, the better.
Portia’s home was in the Garden District of New Orleans, and from all appearances the narrow, three-story brick house was a very old one. Completely enclosed with a tall, wrought-iron fence that gave the place an austere appearance, it was the iron gates with their elaborate filigree designs that turned the iron into elegance.
With the addition of the live oaks and the hanging Spanish moss, the array of perfectly manicured grass, flowers beds and bougainvillea hanging from the west eaves of the porch, it looked like something out of a magazine.
He could imagine Julie playing here as a child, hiding in the bushes, ducking through the flowering archways, chasing after butterflies, and dodging all the bees. When he got to the front gate with the suitcase, he rang the bell.
Within moments, he saw her push aside the curtains at the front windows and wave. Her pretty face, still bearing the stripes from her kidnapper, was wreathed in smiles. Standing there in the shade of the live oak with a hot breeze blowing through his hair, it hit him. But for a few minutes and the grace of God, she would’ve already been dead and buried. Overwhelmed by that harsh reality, he blinked back tears and waved.
The front door opened. A thin, middle-aged woman emerged, wearing a neat, blue uniform with a crisp white apron over it. She came down the steps, then walked hastily toward the gate. Brendan smiled and waved at her. He and Portia’s maid were becoming well acquainted.
“Good afternoon, sir,” she said as she let him in.
“Good afternoon, Janie.”
Julie was wearing a loose, oversized housecoat that he suspected belonged to her grandmother, and her feet were bare. It was still daunting to see the red and swollen marks on her skin and know she had the fortitude to smile through it.
“Hello, my darlin’,” he said softly.
“I’m so glad to see you!” Julie said and lifted her face for the kiss she knew was coming. It was short but sweet and very polite. Considering they were in view of the street and her Nonny’s maid, it was also very proper.
The maid pointed at the suitcase Brendan was holding. “If those are some more of Miss Julie’s things, I’ll take that for you.”
“That they are,” Brendan said and handed them over.
“Come into the living room,” Julie said. “Would you like something cold to drink? We have lemonade and iced tea.”
“Maybe later,” he said as he sat down beside her.
“Nonny is getting her hair done. She sends her regrets.”
He ran a finger lightly down the side of her neck.
“Tell her I was devastated.”
Julie giggled. “She’ll love that.”
“You look amazing,” he said softly.
Her eyes widened. “Mama Lou is the amazing one. I swear the stuff she sent me is magic. I know I still look like a zebra, but the pain has lessened dramatically. Even more, I’m finally beginning to believe my skin will heal just as the doctors said it would.”
“So how is the fall-out since you came here instead of going to your parents’ house?”
She rolled her eyes. “The same. They aren’t happy, but they never argue with Nonny.”
“Good. You deserve some peace and quiet to recuperate. Oh, and I notice the reporters have yet to find you here.”
Julie grinned. “Oh, they found out I was here, all right, but they are absent because Nonny made a few phone calls before I arrived. I don’t know who she called or what she said, but as far as the media is concerned, I have dropped off the face of the earth.”
“And more power to her,” he added.
Julie threaded her fingers through his hand. “I feel like I’ve lost touch with you. Tell me what you’ve been doing.”
“I’ve picked up some applications and filled out a couple on site, but right now, no one’s hiring, at least with my skill-sets. However, I’m not stressing about it since everything is still up in the air with my family. I would hate to begin a new job and then be needed elsewhere.”
She nodded in agreement. “There will be time for job hunting later. Right now your family has to come first.”
“And you. You’re part of that for me.”
Julie took a moment to appreciate the beautiful man before her. He had the appearance of an elegant dilettante, but the calluses on his hands and his chin-up, don’t-fuck-with-me look was a giveaway to the real man behind the pretty face.
“You bless me, Bren.”
He shook his head. “And, you bless me. I won’t live without you in my life, and the dynamics of our families can’t matter.”
“Agreed, and because you are not only beautiful but also so sweet, I had Janie make cherry cheesecake just for you.”
He grinned. “Any man worth his salt should reject the fact that someone just called him beautiful, but because it’s you, I’ll restrain myself, do the polite thing, and have a piece of that cheesecake. A big piece, if you please.”
She giggled as she reached for a tiny bell on the end table and rang it.
Moments later, Janie appeared.
“We sold him, Janie. He requests a big piece of your cheesecake.”
The maid beamed. “Coffee, too, Miss Julie?”
“Yes, coffee too,” she said and eased herself into a more comfortable position.
“Are you hurting?” Brendan asked.
“Not like before. Clothes are still uncomfortable, but I’m not complaining.”
Brendan leaned back, listening to her talking while wondering what tomorrow would bring. There was a knot in his gut that wouldn’t go away. Anson was bound to come off that marijuana high fit to be tied, and he was about to return Delle and Linny to the ensuing chaos.
****
Anson had gone to bed and passed out, then woke up a few hours later in a state of shock. He’d been put out of the drug business in one fell swoop, and had no idea who the hell had done it. He needed to recoup the money he’d paid out on renovations and had nothing to sell.
It worried him that Riordan had been oddly non-committal when Anson told him what happened. He didn’t want to lose the connection he’d worked so hard to foster, then edited the thought. What he really wanted was his life back, the way it had been before he threw the coffee on Delle’s feet.