Aaron was in the dining room, which had been converted into a war room by the Bayou Commander, the name soon given to Brother Jake by both Aaron and Daniel after watching with amazement as he ordered everyone about like an Army drill sergeant. Well, not Army since he was a former Navy SEAL. Still, he had taken over Bayou Rose like Patton storming Normandy.
“Aaron, put those computers over there.”
“Somebody, go put a cover over that bird cage. If I hear ‘Holy shit!’ one more time, I’m gonna duct tape its beak.”
“Hey, hey, hey! That’s my wife’s pet, Clarence,” Dan said, although everyone knew she couldn’t stand the cockatoo, either, and would give it away to a good home, if only someone would offer.
Brother Jake didn’t even apologize. He just grunted and continued with his orders. “MM, where’s that black suitcase that holds all my maps?” MM was his nickname for Sister Mary Michael, whose name he deemed too much of a mouthful.
“Snake, my man! Where you been hiding? Did you get the latest intel from the ranch? No, you better go check. I don’t do blind dates. The exchange date has been moved up, again, you know.”
Luckily, Snake had locked up all of Samantha’s other pets, who continued to follow him around like the Pied Piper. He could hear the unhappy cats, and pig, and dog barking and meowing and oinking below in a storage room. Otherwise, Brother Jake might commandeer them into some job or other, too.
“Can you find some extension cords, Mel? Preferably heavy duty.”
“Holy hell! The wireless here is weak as piss. You better call your cable company, Dan, and see what you can do about amping up the speed.”
Needless to say, he didn’t hesitate to use a few curse words, which caused Tante Lulu to wince and reprimand him, “Jist ’cause ya look like a fallen angel, doan mean ya kin swear like the devil. Watch yer potty mouth, or I’ll show ya some ampin’ up.”
Taken aback for a second, Brother Jake then laughed and picked up Tante Lulu, lifting her high in the air and giving her a big kiss on the cheek. “Sweetheart, if I weren’t a priest, I’d be chasin’ your tail like Roger Rabbit on Jessica Rabbit. You got any more of those ben-yays? You’re surely a saint in the kitchen. Some coffee, too. Blonde and sweet, like before. But more sugar this time.”
Tante Lulu made a harrumphing sound, but she was obviously pleased as she went off to bring the dictator more of the pastries, of which he’d already wolfed down at least a half dozen. That was all he needed! More sugar and caffeine to hype him up!
“Aaron, see if you can contact that brother or half brother or whatever he is of yours, the one that’s a cop.”
“John LeDeux?”
“Yeah. He needs to know that New Orleans police spotted Miguel Vascone at the Silver Stud last night.”
Maybe I should go there myself tonight, and kill the bastard, Aaron thought.
“I know what you’re thinking, LeDeux,” the Dictator said.
Does everybody know I have the hots for Fleur?
“Don’t you dare go off half-cocked on your own,” Brother Jake ordered. “No weapons!”
Aaron bristled. As Tante Lulu was wont to say, This guy is getting on my last nerve. Instead, he responded with, “They have a saying here in the South. ‘Some men need killin’.’” He wasn’t sure if he meant Miguel or the bossy priest.
The bossy priest assumed he meant Miguel. “I can’t argue with that, but the Street Apostles are a nonviolent group. No killing, unless in defense or unless absolutely necessary. You already know this.”
Yeah, I do. Dammit! “I’ll do it later, then,” Aaron said with a grumble.
“They lost track of the tango in the French Quarter, anyway.” Tango was a Navy SEAL term for a bad guy. “Oh, and tell your brother John that some Mexican dudes have been asking questions about Tante Lulu around Bayou Black. Some lady at Boudreaux’s General Store chased them out with a broom.”
How did this guy, who’d just arrived in Louisiana, know so much? He must have contacts all over the place. That was good, for the mission, Aaron supposed. But it didn’t stop him from being a major asshole.
Aaron was glad that Tante Lulu had left the room. If she’d heard the news about Boudreaux’s, one of her favorite haunts, she’d be storming down the bayou with her own broom . . . or an AK-47. And she wouldn’t give a damn about any nonviolence rule.
When Brother Jake began tacking maps on the wall, Dan yanked Aaron outside. “Oh, my God! Good thing we’re moving, or Samantha would be chasing that guy with a measuring stick, priest or no priest. Do you have any idea how much that wallpaper cost? Two hundred dollars a roll!”
Personally, Aaron didn’t think anyone had any business spending that much money on wallpaper, but he wasn’t about to tell that to Dan . . . or Samantha. “Your mistake was coming back to the house,” Aaron pointed out.
“I needed some more clothes, but I’m outta here now. I have a consult in a half hour. You’re on your own, bro.”
“Lucky you! Actually, I need to go to work, too. Remy’s swamped.”
Aaron walked Dan to his car.
“Where’s Fleur, by the way?” Dan asked.
“Helping Mother Jacinta up at the cottages. Call me later and let me know how Samantha’s doing.”
“Will do.”
On the way back around the side of the house, Aaron noticed Mother Jacinta and Sister Carlotta walking down the narrow roadway from the cottages toward the mansion. Fleur must still be up at the cottages. Alone.
The two nuns were talking animatedly and didn’t even notice him. Not that he was hiding from them. He just didn’t have time to chat before leaving for work . . . and doing some other things.
He waited until they’d entered the kitchen before he headed up toward Magnolia, the last cottage refurbished so far. It was the most traditional of them all, being painted a creamy white.
Fleur was bending over the sofa, fluffing the cushions and arranging some throw pillows. For a moment, he just leaned against the doorjamb, enjoying the view. Idly, he made a mental note to call Ed before he left and remind him to hang a screen door ASAP, or whoever stayed here would be bitten alive by mosquitoes or those blasted no-see-ums once dusk hit the bayou.
When Fleur straightened, she noticed him. “How long you been standing there?”
“Just long enough to admire your heart-shaped ass in those tight pants.”
“In crude mode again, Aaron? Tsk, tsk! Back to the New Raunchy You, I see,” she said.
“Nah. Back to the old raunchy me.”
“My pants aren’t tight.”
“They are when you bend over. Do it again, and I’ll show you.”
“Not a chance.” She laughed.
At least she was laughing.
And, man, what was she was wearing on top? It looked like a black bra, but it was probably one of those running things. Was she planning on jogging? Regardless, her top was made of some stretchy material that molded her breasts and lifted them. Which, of course, reminded him of how sensitive her breasts had been under his hands and mouth last night, so sensitive she’d climaxed.
She knew what he was thinking, too, he could tell, and not just because his eyes were latched on the twin mounds. She was looking at his hands, and his mouth. Under his perusal, the nipples pearled against the tight fabric.
Good sign!
She backed up a step and asked, “Did you want something, Aaron?”
“Oh, yeah.” He stepped inside and closed the door behind him.
She blushed and backed up another step. “I mean, did you come here for some particular purpose?”
“Oh, yeah,” he repeated. One more step backward, sweetie, he urged silently. It wouldn’t take many steps for her to reach his goal. The cottage was small, an advantage in his present ulterior calculations.
She backed into the counter of the kitchenette, right where he wanted her. He barely stifled a grin of satisfaction.
“I’ve come to collect my apology kisses,” he said.
“Oh, that!”
“Yes, that,” he said, moving in closer. “Remember what Aunt Mel said earlier today?”
“Huh?” She tried to laugh, but she was nervous.
Good! Nervous is good.
“Are you saying your aunt gave you the idea for kissing?”
“I got that idea all on my own, darlin’.” He put a hand on either side of her on the counter, which was just a bar separating the tiny living room from the tiny kitchen. She was trapped now. “It’s about that line that Aunt Mel tossed out from Gone with the Wind. The ‘Tomorrow is another day’ one.”
She tilted her head at him. “You’re a Gone with the Wind fan?”
“Not exactly. Next to Barry Manilow, Mom and Aunt Mel loved that movie. Dan and I couldn’t help but watch it sometimes.”
“And that has what to do with—”
He lifted her to set her butt on the bar so he could step between her legs. The counter was just the right height.
“—this?” she squeaked out.
“Her quote reminded me of my favorite line in the film. Rhett tells Scarlett, ‘You should be kissed by someone who knows how.’”
She made an exaggerated tsking sound. “Your humility knows no bounds. Now you’re saying that you’re an expert kisser.”
“It’s one of my top three talents. In fact, you could say I’m a world-class kisser.” He had a sudden idea. And those were the best kind, by the way. If he was able to make Fleur come by touching her breasts, what if he could do the same by just kissing?
Now there was a challenge!
He smiled.
She pretended to sigh and said, “Oh, Rhett.” Then she burst out laughing. She probably thought she could deflect him with mockery.
He was not to be deflected.
And she wasn’t laughing for long.
THIS was his idea of kissing? . . .
After the meltdown Fleur and Mel had engaged in this morning, Fleur made a decision. No more fighting this attraction to Aaron LeDeux. She was going to let the chips fall where they may. It was a gamble, but she was hoping that the fire would fizzle out of its own accord. And, if it didn’t, well, then, she’d know for sure that she wasn’t destined for the religious life.
That decision was all well and good until faced with the irresistible rogue and his claims of world-class kissing. He was so adorably outrageous and irritatingly outrageous that she could only shake her head in wonder, both at him and at herself.
“Go for it,” she challenged with more bravado than she was feeling.
“I thought you’d never ask,” he replied with a smile which, of course, caused his dimple to emerge, which, of course, made her even more susceptible to his charms.
“Don’t expect much from me, Aaron. I mean, despite my past, this is all new to me.”
“This is new to me, too.”
“Puh-leeze! That’s like Houdini saying he’s new to knots.”
“Who? Never mind. Seriously, babe, I haven’t been this nervous about kissing a girl since we played spin the bottle at Kirima Askim’s tenth birthday party. Kiri was the hottest girl in fifth grade, but she had braces, and I hadn’t figured out that maneuver yet.”
One never knew when Aaron was kidding or not. She would have to ask his Aunt Mel if there was such a girl. Or maybe not, if she’d have to explain why she asked.
Meanwhile, as her mind was wandering, his hands were wandering. Before she could say “Slow down, Rhett,” he’d put his hands under her knees and tugged her forward until her butt barely rested on the edge of the counter, belying his nervousness. He pushed aside a paint can and an assortment of various size brushes to give her more room. Still, her precarious position, teetering on the edge, forced her to put her hands on his shoulders for support. Was that his intent? Then he yanked her knees wider and stepped up even closer. Definitely not the move of an insecure man.
When his hardness pressed against her, she gasped, and blinked, and saw stars for a moment behind her closed lids. “This doesn’t feel like kissing.”
“It’s prep work.”
“Like a professional chef?” she joked.
He didn’t laugh, just shook his head.
Good Lord! He’s watching me like a hawk, studying its prey. The slightest opening, and I am bird kibble. Maybe if I keep talking, he’ll stop and give me a chance to think, to reconsider. “Don’t you mean foreplay?” she stammered out.
“No, that comes later.”
Oh, boy! I am officially out of my league! Fleur decided.
He traced her lips with a forefinger. Lightly. Then he did it again. And again. Each time he seemed to awaken more nerve endings. Until her lips parted, and her eyes closed.
But almost instantly, her eyes shot open at a new sensation.
Using the smallest of the dry paint brushes, the one for edge work, he was stroking her lips. Who knew lips were such an erotic spot on the human body? She hadn’t. Oh, she knew that kisses themselves were supposed to be arousing, but the lips themselves having erogenous triggers . . . that was new to her. The pleasure he was inciting was almost painful in its intensity.
She moaned.
“Atta girl,” he murmured as he dropped the brush and brought his mouth to hers, and used his lips as a brush, back and forth, gently, gently, gently, shaping. When he got the right fit, he breathed into her mouth, causing her to inhale sharply, and open for him.
After that, she couldn’t keep track of what was happening. His tongue was in her mouth, and then it wasn’t. Every time he did something daring, like nipping at her bottom lip with his teeth, or sucking on her tongue, or kissing her hard and deep, he alternated with little butterfly kisses or sweet licks of her lips.
New and exciting sensations unfurled in Fleur. In her “working days,” Fleur had avoided kissing whenever possible, it somehow seeming more invasive and distasteful than other things, but occasionally a john would manage to trap her face and invariably it would be some big, fat tongue plundering her mouth almost to the point of suffocation. There was no comparison with this. Heaven and hell, if anything. But she wasn’t going to think about the past. Not now, anyhow.
She moved her hands from his shoulders and cupped his face.
Which caused him to gasp with surprise, then murmur, “Oh, Fleur!”
She liked that she could surprise him like that, and she smiled against his mouth. Who knew that you could smile and kiss at the same time? Who knew there was anything about close contact with a man that would ever make her smile? Who knew! . . . Who knew! . . . Who knew! she kept thinking at every little thing he did. And then at some not so little things.
To her embarrassment, she felt an odd thrumming begin in her lower belly and beyond, which she now knew presaged an approaching climax. Even her breasts felt fuller and achy. Surely, other women didn’t have climaxes so easily. Maybe it was just that Aaron was so skilled.
But she couldn’t let him see how pathetic she was. She stiffened, bracing herself against the oncoming onslaught. Maybe if she thought about something else she could halt this spiraling of sensations, like okra, a slimy vegetable she just could not like, or mustaches which made some men look kind of slimy, or slime itself, like that stuff kids bought at Halloween.
“Oh, no!” Aaron protested. “None of that stiffening up. Relax, sweetheart.”
“Wait, wait . . . oh, no!”
As his tongue began a slow in-and-out movement in her mouth, his lower body undulated against her, and she crashed into an explosion of rippling spasms. This was no gentle orgasm like the previous one had been. This was sparks and a kaleidoscope of colors and pure, cascading bliss.
Aaron’s forehead was pressed against hers. Was his excessive breathing a sign that he hadn’t yet climaxed, or that he had, and it took his breath away?
“I’m not sure if I like this, Aaron.”
He drew back to look at her. “If you’re not sure, then I’m not doing it right.”
“I mean, it feels like a merry-go-round, or one of those crazy amusement park rides where you start off slow in circles, and you think, This is nice. But then it goes faster, and faster, and you start to get a little bit frightened. You need to hang on because you’re spinning out of control, and what if you fly off.”
He just stared at her.
“Is that how it is for you?”
“Not quite, though your way sounds like more fun. I always did like amusement park rides, the scarier the better.”
“You would!” She tried to push him away so that she could get off the counter. Now that sanity had returned, she worried that someone might walk in on them, like Mother Jacinta. Or, horror of horrors, Tante Lulu.
But of course he was continuing the discussion which by now she regretted bringing up. “No, for me, an orgasm—a good one—is a rocket taking off. There’s all the preparations. Fueling up. Oiling up. Firing up. A couple practice runs. Some tweaks. And then bam. You’re off to the moon!” He grinned at her.
“Well, if that was your idea of kissing, they need to put a new definition in the dictionary.”
“That good, huh?”
She shook her head at his outrageousness. “Well, now that I’ve paid my mea culpa penalties with kisses, time for you to back off. I need to think about all this climax/orgasm/rocket/merry-go-round stuff to decide whether—”
“Oh, no, no, no! No backing off. No thinking.”
“You have to realize, Aaron, that until yesterday, I was convinced that I didn’t like sex.” She realized her mistake immediately.
He grinned, of course. “And now you do?”
“Not necessarily.”
“That’s because we haven’t done the deed yet. Or all the other things I have planned.”
“You have plans?” Another mistake realized too late!
“You have no idea!”
“Why haven’t you given up on me, Aaron? I’ve told you over and over that I can’t live a normal life.”
“Define normal.”
She rolled her eyes. He was impossible.
“If you want me to stop, Fleur, I will. I would never force you. You know that, don’t you?”
She nodded.
“Give me a chance, Fleur. Let’s make love. Oh, not here, and not now. I want a better place and more time to do things right.”
Right? That’s what she was afraid of.
“I don’t mean just having intercourse in fifty different positions. I want to dance naked with you to a Barry Manilow song. How’s that for stupid? Or really romantic? It will probably be ‘Mandy’ or else ‘Ready to Take a Chance’ or ‘Can’t Smile Without You.’ I haven’t decided yet. Your choice.”
That was so outrageous, and tantalizing, that she couldn’t respond at first. “You dance?”
“Did I mention my top three talents? Dancing is number four.”
“Is there anything you don’t do well?”
“I’m having a helluva time winning you over.”
She didn’t know about that. She was sitting on a counter with her legs spread, having just enjoyed some world class kissing or whatever you wanted to call it, and he was still planted way too close for comfort. He was winning something.
“Anyhow, naked dancing is one of the things on my Fleur Bucket List.” He pretended to be flicking through a notebook in his palm. “I also want to make love to you underwater in my pool.”
“The nonexistent pool?”
“The St. Jude pool yet to be installed.”
“And I assume we would be swimming naked.”
“Of course.”
“Wouldn’t St. Jude disapprove?”
“Hah! I think St. Jude and Tante Lulu maneuvered this whole love spell thing on me.”
On me, too.
“Wanna know what else I have in mind?”
“No.”
As if she hadn’t spoken, he went on, “You know that antique couch thingee that Samantha has in the front parlor? It’s red velvet and has only one arm. The kind of thing Cleopatra might have reclined on.”
“I think it’s called a chaise lounge.”
“Yeah, that’s it. Can you imagine the kinky things that—”
“Enough! I get the picture.”
“Of course, when it comes to furniture, I will always have fond memories of my recliner.” He waggled his eyebrows at her.
“You really are hopeless.”
“In a good way?”
“Is there a good way to be hopeless?”
He shrugged. “So, those are just a few of the tame fantasies I have. Wanna hear about some of the more, um, wild things I’m imagining?”
“No, I do not.” Actually, she was intrigued. “Enough of your nonsense! It’s time I get back to the house to see how the exchange plans are going. And you have to go to work, don’t you?”
He nodded and let her slide to the floor, but not before giving one more gentle kiss to her mouth. And a pat on the rump. “Be prepared, the dictator has mapped out the whole mission, and he has assignments for all of us.”
“I’m not surprised. Brother Jake is great at battle planning, and this is a battle of sorts. Minus the guns.” She paused. “And, yes, his arrogance has rubbed more than one fellow priest the wrong way, and a few nuns, too.”
Aaron laughed out loud. “That almost makes me like the guy. Almost.”
As they walked back toward the mansion, Aaron took her hand in his, and she had to admit that she liked that, almost as much as all the other intimate stuff he was introducing her to. Halfway there, his cell phone rang. Without releasing her hand, he raised the phone to his ear and clicked it on with a thumb.
“Hello. Yes, this is Aaron LeDeux . . . Aah, Ms. Forsyth. Okay, Elaine. How can I help you?”
Fleur tried to pull her hand away, but he held on tight and shook his head at her.
“I can’t meet today. I’m on my way to work. Yes, I’m still flying. Is there any reason why I shouldn’t be? No, I can’t make it for dinner tonight, either. Sorry. Another commitment.” He glanced over at Fleur and gave her an air kiss.
“Okay, tomorrow would be fine. Two o’clock. Did you get the paperwork my lawyer prepared? More? What else do you need?”
Aaron was clearly annoyed with whomever he was speaking with.
“Right. We’ll be there at two then. Unless Luc can’t make it. He might have to be in court. Okay. All right.”
When he clicked off, Aaron told her, “That was Ms. Forsyth from the Federal Aviation Agency. Once you’re on their radar, they just don’t let go.”
“Is this the woman you got drunk in New Orleans?”
“I did not get her drunk. She did that all on her own.”
“She invited you to dinner tonight. Does that mean she has the hots for you?”
“Probably. Are you jealous?”
“Hardly.” Well, a little. “I thought your issues with the FAA were all cleared up.”
“Not all of them.”
“Are you worried?”
“Nah. One way or another, we’ll work it out. I just need to be more careful.”
“Maybe you should drop out of the missions. Take a break.”
“Will you?”
“No!”
“Then I won’t, either.”
They couldn’t say anything more because Tante Lulu was standing in the doorway with a pleased expression on her face. “Tee-John came by ta bring me some supplies and he dropped off yer present, Aaron.” She narrowed her eyes at the two of them, then added, “And none too soon, either.”
Fleur and Aaron looked at the large oak box decorated with hand-painted flowers. They both knew what it was.
“It looks like a small coffin,” Aaron said. “I’d never fit.”
“You know ’zackly what it is, you fool. Yer hope chest.”
Fleur grinned, but only for a moment.
“And I put somethin’ in there fer you, too, Fleur. A bride quilt.”
The best laid plans of mice and men, and Cajun rogues . . .
When Aaron left for work late that morning, he’d had big plans for tonight. But, with one thing and another, he didn’t get home until almost midnight.
Fleur was probably still waiting up for him, though, wearing a sheer negligee, or nothing at all. Wine would be chilling in an ice bucket next to his bed, on which black satin sheets had magically appeared. (Where did one buy black satin sheets, by the way? At Walmart? Or one of those fancy bath stores? No, probably the Internet. Dumbmanideas.com or GettingLaid.com.)
Or maybe she would be reclining like some 1940s pinup on the red velvet chaise lounge he’d mentioned to her. Yep. And Barry Manilow would be crooning something soft and sexy. A good choice would be “Looks Like We Made It.” He sure as hell would like to make it. Love, that is.
In a far-off room, something delicious would be in a warming oven. For later. Maybe ribs. No, that would be messy. Oyster po’ boys? Nah, they would be messy, too. Maybe some of the crawfish appetizer thingees like Samantha made for parties. Canapés, they were called. He teased her all the time, calling them can-a-peas. But, man, he could eat about two dozen of them right now. (Did I forget to eat dinner tonight? Yeah, except for that bag of chips and a soda after I left Luc’s office.)
Most of all, Fleur would welcome him, smiling.
He couldn’t wait.
To tell the truth, after the day he’d had, he doubted he would be up for anything, let alone a romp in the hay. There had been one problem after another: some difficult customers who’d required him to circle the bayou property they were interested in purchasing an extra three times; a meeting with Luc about the FAA meeting tomorrow which Aaron would, in fact, have to attend alone; a quick stop at the hospital where Samantha got way too much pleasure out of Aaron’s description of the mayhem at Bayou Rose (Of course, she doesn’t know about the wallpaper yet.); and a stop at the all-night Starr Supermarket to purchase a few things Tante Lulu requested, which turned into an overflowing basket after a series of voice mails, each adding something she’d forgotten to her list. Seriously, they needed twenty-four double rolls of toilet paper?
He didn’t intend to check in at the mansion at this time of night, but when he saw lights on in the front parlor, he decided to see who was still up. Maybe it was Fleur, after all. But, no, she wouldn’t be in the front parlor. Or, at least, he didn’t think so. There was that red velvet chaise lounge, though. He grinned.
But then, he stopped grinning.
It was the Brothers Snake and Jake. Oh, Lord! This is the first time I realized that the two names rhyme. They were watching TV on a set which they must have moved downstairs from one of the guest bedrooms. Samantha didn’t allow such modern conveniences to mix with her antique furniture. And there was the dictator himself sprawled out, half on and half off, the red velvet chaise lounge. There went that sexual fantasy! They were dressed in shorts and T-shirts, presumably sleep attire, watching Game of Thrones on cable. Beside each of them was an open Bible. Maybe they’d been praying together, not watching the tube. Clarence was quiet, for once, a shawl having been thrown over his cage.
“How’s it hangin’?” Snake asked.
“That’s some workday, buddy,” Brother Jake remarked at the same time, glancing at his wristwatch. “Can I assume you got lucky? My door’s always open for Penance. Ha, ha, ha.”
“Ha, ha, ha! Back atcha!” Did I mention these priests are like no other priests I’ve ever met? That thought was reinforced with Snake’s next question.
“Want a beer?” Snake asked, pointing to a cooler sitting between the chaise lounge and the Biedermeier rocking chair he was sitting on. Samantha had purchased it, the chair, not the cooler, at an auction last year for an amount she’d refused to disclose to Dan.
Aaron wondered idly if Samantha and Dan would expect him to purchase all this antique crap when they moved, or if they would take it with them? In fact, would Dan want him to buy out his half of the plantation? Man, he got a headache just thinking about all that. And, frankly, my dear (yes, his brain was exploding with exhaustion), if he was going to be stuck here alone, he’d prefer a swimming pool to two-hundred-year-old furniture.
On the other hand, maybe he and Dan would sell the whole kit and caboodle and divvy up the proceeds? (Kit and caboodle? Jeesh! Hangin’ around Tante Lulu much, Aaron? Next, I’ll be saying, “Aw, shucks, y’all!” or “I do declare,” or “Samantha looks like a giant balloon about to burst, bless her heart.”) Assuming there would be profits. A lot of their expensive improvements might not translate into a higher selling price.
“Sure,” he said, belatedly, to Snake’s offer of a beer, but wavered over whether he should sit on the floor, which was covered with an oriental carpet purchased at Costco, or the ratty love seat that had been a wedding gift from Aunt Mel. He opted for the floor where he sat cross-legged, and leaned back against the love seat. After taking an extended draw on the Dixie longneck, he let out a sigh. “No, I didn’t get lucky,” he finally answered Brother Jake. “I’ve been working . . . and shopping. Oh, hell! I forgot. I have to unload all those groceries Tante Lulu asked me to buy on the way home.”
“I’ll do it,” Snake offered.
Which left Aaron alone with Father Frowny. Just great! Should he ask if it was true what they said about Navy SEALs, that they were badasses? Or he could tell him about his problems with the FAA? Then there was already the offer to hear his confession. But Aaron was saved from making some forced chitchat by Brother Jake’s blunt question.
“What are your intentions toward Fleur?”
Aaron choked on the beer he’d just swallowed. “I beg your pardon. Are you for real? Not to mention, are you her long-lost father or something? Wait—I forgot. You are a father. Ha, ha, ha.” Two could play at the jokey crap.
“No, I’m not her father, but I care about her. I’ve known Fleur since she was rescued. She’s been through hell, both during her kidnapping period, and after. If she’s going to jump the convent wall, I want to make sure there will be someone to catch her.”
“I’ll catch her,” Aaron said without hesitation.
Brother Jake nodded, accepting him at his word, which surprised the hell out of Aaron.
“I love the woman, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“Oh, I noticed, but the question is, does she love you?”
“Not yet.”
Brother Jake nodded again. “Good luck with that. She’s a strong-willed woman. Had to be to survive in those Mexican cesspits for six years. She would have made a great SEAL.”
Aaron had a million questions he’d like to ask about the place where they’d found Fleur, what condition she’d been in then, had she really tried to kill Miguel with a baseball bat, what work she’d been doing with the Magdas and Street Apostles, and so on. But, he decided, it would be wrong to ask someone else. If he really wanted to know, he should ask Fleur. And if she didn’t want him to know, that was that.
“How long have you been with the Street Apostles?” he asked instead.
“From the beginning, when they were formed, twelve years ago. I’d already left the teams . . . got too good at killing and my soul was turning black. So, I joined a seminary, studying to be a monk. But then, once I was ordained, I realized that the regular cloistered monk life didn’t suit me.”
“You weren’t into making wine, or cheese, or God forbid, fruitcakes?” Aaron joked. At Brother Jake’s arched brows, he explained, “I watched a Christmas special on the Food Network last year, featuring monkish gifts. That’s the extent of my knowledge about the religious life.”
“I’m lactose intolerant, and I would probably chug down all the booze, even the rum in the fruitcake. Hell, there was a time I would have stolen the little barrels of whiskey from the mastiffs’ necks at the St. Bernard’s Hospice, just to get a snort, not that those dogs ever really carried booze.”
Aaron noticed then that Brother Jake was drinking Diet Coke. The beer must have been Snake’s idea.
“No, I might have left the military, but I needed action. They say there are three reasons why a guy would want to become a SEAL. To prove something to himself, to prove something to someone else, or because he was bat-shit crazy. I fit all three at one time, and probably still do,” Brother Jake went on, obviously enjoying his captive audience. “Anyhow, another monk and I, Sebastian Oliver, started the Street Apostles after we saw a TV special on the sex trafficking of young children in the Dallas area. I had inherited a small ranch from my grandparents, and Seb, a computer guru, had made a bundle in tech stocks. So, we were set.”
Aaron hadn’t realized that Brother Jake was one of the founders of the organization. “Does the Pope allow you guys to still be priests and do all the stuff you do?”
“As long as we keep it low-key and weaponless.”
“Must have been difficult, though, to go from ‘spray and pray’ in the teams to weaponless fighting,” Aaron speculated.
“In some ways, yes. In some ways, no. We’ve been forced to develop our own methods of covert ops, and they’re always evolving. Instead of weapons, we rely on timing, skill, stealth, teamwork, creativity, and lots of prayer. Hiding in plain sight by the use of disguises. That kind of thing.”
Aaron was beginning to like Brother Jake a little bit more. Not a lot. But a little.
Snake came back and asked Aaron, “You folks shit a lot around here?”
Aaron laughed.
Brother Jake asked, “What?”
“It’s a private joke,” Aaron said.
After that, the two men gave Aaron an update on the mission plans, and he was bowled over by how much had been done in his absence and how efficient the Street Apostles and Magdas were in planning their forays into the sex trafficking world. The situation was fluid and ever-changing, as Brother Jake had said, but they seemed able to adapt to those variations.
Aaron shouldn’t have been surprised, based on past experience with these professionals. Maybe it was because this particular operation seemed more complex in terms of numbers and the trickiness of all the time elements coming together just right.
“Tell me more,” Aaron encouraged Brother Jake.
“The perimeter of the truck depot in Lafayette has been secured as of this afternoon. The ETA for the big rig is twenty-three hundred on Friday night. The cargo from New Orleans should have arrived shortly before that. Everyone on our team will be boots on the ground and in place an hour earlier, no later than twenty-two hundred.”
“In fact, some of the Street Apostles are already there, working at various spots around the truck depot,” Snake added. “And, of course, we’ll have spotters along the highway from the border crossing upward, and from New Orleans to Lafayette, notifying us of any glitches or changes in plans.”
That was only two nights from now. Eleven p.m. for the exchange. Arrive an hour earlier. It was a two-hour drive to get there. All these calculations figured in Aaron’s mind as his adrenaline jacked up about a hundred percent. The same way he’d felt when preparing for a bombing raid over Iraq when he was in the Air Force.
But he had mixed feelings about this particular mission. Yeah, he wanted this all to be over and successful, but he also dreaded the possible negative outcomes, especially with Fleur involved.
“So, if timing is everything,” Aaron said, speaking his thoughts aloud, “there will be only that small window of opportunity when the exchange is about to take place. Are you prepared for that?”
“We are, as much as we can be, with God’s help. Of course, any operation is a FUBAR waiting to happen,” Brother Jake replied, a little pissed off by Aaron’s questions, as indicated by the frown that furrowed his brow.
“Prepare for the worst, and hope for the best. And pray, pray, pray,” Snake added with a laugh, clearly seeking to cool any rising temperatures. “We already have a rusted-out school bus, the smaller kind used to take kids on field trips or for special needs kids. It has a new logo painted on its side, ‘Sisters of Mercy Day Camp.’ It will hopefully carry a load of passengers back here to Bayou Rose. In addition, two vans, a Bayou Cable Co. box truck and Dick’s Plumbing cargo van, will also be there to transport six girls each to the airport.
“Oh, and did I mention, we’re hoping to use your pickup truck, Aaron?”
“Huh?”
“We’ll put removable decals on the side, spelling out, ‘Cajun Bob’s Produce.’ It’ll be loaded with potatoes and melons, high enough to cover some of the Street Apostles hiding underneath, if that becomes necessary.”
“We wanted it to be melons and peaches, but you know how the Irish are with their potatoes,” Brother Jake teased Snake, who just grinned.
Aaron shook his head to clear it of confusion. “I don’t see the connection between the nuns and Farmer Bob,” Aaron said.
“Several nuns from the Sisters of Mercy will be there, picking up donated produce from Bob’s farm. They’ll provide the distraction once the perps arrive in the lot so that we can gain control of their vehicles and the ‘cargo,’” Brother Jake explained.
“Nuns? Which nuns?”
“Sister Mary Michael. Sister Carlotta. Sister Fleur.”
Aaron groaned. “Oh, no, no, no!”
“Oh, yes, yes, yes,” Brother Jake countered. He explained in detail how the convoluted plan would play out.
“There are so many variables in this half-assed scheme that could go wrong,” Aaron countered.
“And more variables that could make it work,” Snake said. “Trust us, Aaron. We know what we’re doing.”
That was debatable, in Aaron’s opinion. He decided then and there that he was going to be carrying a weapon.
“And don’t be thinkin’ to hide a pistol in your pocket, laddie,” Snake said, as if reading Aaron’s mind.
“Laddie my ass,” Aaron muttered.
Brother Brian just grinned, then continued explaining the plan in more detail. “The commercial vehicles will go to the airport outside Lafayette. I’ve arranged for two planes to be gassed up and approved for take-off sometime between eleven p.m. and one a.m., one destined for Mexico where the girls will then be taken to the convent, the other for Dallas and ultimately the ranch.”
“It’s a two-hour drive from here to Lafayette, and, yes, we could have operated from a base closer to the target site,” Brother Jake said, “but, in the end, the remoteness here is an advantage that overweighs that long drive to and from.”
Aaron nodded, reluctantly, knowing one of those planes was designated for him. Even so, the mission seemed monumental and fraught with possibilities for screw-ups. Most dangerous of all was the fact that the bad guys would be carrying guns, and they would not.
His continued skepticism must have shown on his face because Snake went into a lengthy explanation of the day’s happenings, probably to illustrate that they were not amateurs. “Mother Jacinta’s crew has been busy and incredibly efficient here at the plantation, making arrangements for the late-night arrivals. As you know, the Magdas have a network of volunteers that kick into gear on a moment’s notice. A medical doctor from Alabama is coming in, which means that Dan won’t have to be involved, although he did offer to come in as backup, if needed.”
When had that been arranged? And how come Dan had failed to mention it tonight?
“A social worker from Dallas will work with the girls, starting Saturday morning, getting family histories, notifying parents in some cases, looking for placements in others. Most will be under the age of eighteen. That’s considered experienced and ‘tired goods’ in the prostitute business when they’ve started at thirteen,” Snake went on. “By Sunday, the dozen girls here should be down to six or fewer. They’ll all be gone by midweek.”
It sounded great in theory, but would it pan out in reality? “Exactly how many people are involved in this operation, including volunteers for the small jobs, like highway spotting?”
“Seventeen,” Brother Jake replied.
“Unbelievable!” Aaron said.
“We’re a well-oiled fighting machine when we have to be,” Brother Jake concurred, taking Aaron’s exclamation as a compliment, “even without artillery. It’s all in the planning.”
Aaron rose, about to depart. “One more question. Besides being a nun, what will Fleur be doing in this operation?”
“Driving the bus,” both men answered with grins.
That was just great, Aaron thought, as he returned to his garçonniére apartment. Right in the middle of the fray. Possibly chased by gun-toting bad guys.
But that settled it. There was always a danger in any military operation, whether it be on behalf of Uncle Sam or some poor kidnapped girls, and there was always a chance that someone was going to get hurt, or killed. He needed to get up close and personal with Fleur before that happened, and tomorrow was the only time he had to do that.
The Brothers Jake and Snake weren’t the only ones good at making plans. Aaron had a few strategies of his own and a skill set he hadn’t yet utilized.
He smiled.
Fleur didn’t stand a chance.