Page 28 of Xavier

“I’ll have to take your word for it.” His lips twitched.

“At your own risk.” She tipped her head toward the door the woman had rushed through. “I think that the people of this town are convinced anything I touch could kill them.” She looked up at him. “But not you?”

“I’m not afraid to die,” he said.

“No wife?”

He shook his head.

“No kids you’re paying child support for?” Her eyebrow cocked again.

“No kids,” he said, his jaw tightening.

She tipped her head to one side. “No regrets?”

His thoughts shot back to the decision he’d made that had cost him so much and cost his buddy his life. “I have plenty of regrets,” he said softly. “One of them is that I haven’t already left to get my team moving on this project.” He touched a finger to his temple. “I’ll see you at four.”

Before she could ask any more personal questions, he left the shop, climbed into his truck, and drove to the boat factory. Though he was physically in Bayou Mambaloa, his thoughts weren’t.

He plunged into the dark memories of that day in the hills of Afghanistan when one decision had cost the lives of two of his Navy SEAL teammates and his fiancée and had sentenced him to years of second-guessing and self-loathing.

Second-guessing hadn’t brought back the men who’d died on his watch. Still, he hadn’t really let himself move on. While so many of his other brothers of the Bayou Brotherhood Protectors had moved out of the boarding house, he hadn’t bothered looking for somewhere more permanent to live.

He considered Bayou Mambaloa more of a temporary assignment than a home. He’d been there long enough. It was time to move on.

Attraction to the ex-con was nothing more than an indication that he’d gone too long without scratching that itch.

But he’d be insane to scratch any itch with Lissette Gautier.

He was only in it to protect her until she figured out who was behind the hits, or he had to report to his new job.

Xavier drove to the boat factory, parked and entered. He’d promised to be back at the Remedies and Roux shop by four o’clock. However, the longer he was away from the pretty granddaughter of the local Voodoo queen, the twitchier he got.

She believed the men who’d attacked her wouldn’t do it again in broad daylight.

Xavier wasn’t as confident of that assumption.

He hurried through the boat factory section of the Brotherhood Protectors Bayou headquarters, noting the men who’d been working on the hull of a new boat earlier that day had bugged out. Once inside the war room, Xavier strode past the big conference table and sank into the office chair in front of the array of computer monitors.

Moments later, he placed a video call to the main office in Montana and Axel Svenson’s desk.

One of the monitors in front of Xavier blinked, and a head with white-blond, short-cropped hair and ice-blue eyes appeared.

“Hey, Swede,” Xavier said.

“Xavier.” Swede gave him a brief nod. “What’s up?”

“I need you to check on a couple of locals in Bayou Mambaloa, the first being Ron Cormier. He’s supposed to be a mercenary for the mafia organizations around New Orleans and southern Louisiana.”

“Ron Cormier,” Swede repeated. “Got it. Who’s the second local?”

“Nub LeJeune. He’s supposed to be some kind of salvage resale guy.”

“Do I get some context to go with these two men?” Swede asked. “Like, why look them up? What have they done?”

Xavier told Swede what had happened with the stolen reliquaries, the looted tomb and, finally, Lissette’s attack.

Swede frowned. “Isn’t that the woman who tried to kill Shelby?”