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“There is. But I have to wait until my employer returns.”
“What is it?”
“The chip. You had it stuffed in the bag with your things. I think that’s what they’re after. That’s why they want you.”
“I don’t even know what’s on it. I found it in the house.”
“They’re names. Names of people who, I believe, might be part of a big fucking sex trafficking ring.”
Sex trafficking? “My father had this list of names?”
“I believe he wanted to turn it over to the authorities. That’s why you were attacked. That’s why they killed him.”
“It was the cartel that broke into our house?” I can’t imagine cartel members dressed up in goat skulls, but maybe this is just another example of my failing memory. Maybe there were never goat skulls, at all.
“I don’t know. But I’m certain, whoever it was, they were after that chip.”
“So, you’re going to turn the chip over for your freedom.”
“And yours. If he wants it bad enough, he’ll have to negotiate.”
Except, every name on that chip could be a life saved, if they’re brought to justice. “Do you think he will?”
“I don’t know. No one’s called my bluff yet. But until then, everything has to be business as usual. Understand?”
“I understand. Luc’s going to be my babysitter for a couple days.”
“Yes. Which means I’m going to have to make good on a promise.”
“What promise?”
38
Thierry
“Crawfishing?” Twisting her hair into an unruly, messy bun on top of her head, Céleste watches me unload a cooler from the skiff onto the dock. She swipes up the camera she decided to bring along, and loops it around her neck, looking like a bona fide tourist.
“Man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.”
“Mais la, it’s a good day in da bayou!” Luc says from behind, and I turn to see him and the familiar face of a man, only slightly shorter and covered in tattoos, trailing behind. A long time buddy of his who’s accompanied us before.
The two of them load gear onto a bigger boat that’s docked along the shore of Luc’s rundown shack of a house. While he can probably afford a slightly better place to live, the shithole has been in his family for years, and as sentimental as the guy can be, he can’t bring himself to leave.
Luc frowns, when I turn. “Eh, what da hell happened to your face?”
A quick glance at Céleste, and I roll my eyes. “Slipped on a razor blade.”
Removing his hat, Luc scratches his head. “Dang. You can do dat?”
Chuckling, I hand my cooler off to him, catching the trail of his gaze over Céleste in her short cut-offs that show off the toned thighs I’ve had draped over my shoulders the last few days. The sight of his ogling sets off a slow simmer in my blood, but to his credit, he quickly turns away with a shake of his head and whistles.
“You a lucky man, Cous’. Hope we see some of dat luck on da water.”
Hands on her hips, Céleste looks around. “So, crawfishing …. I’ve never done this before.”
“You’re in for a treat, chère. Ain’t nothin’ better dan blue skies, good beer, and crawfishin’,” Luc says.
“Nothing?” The wink she casts over her shoulder has the corner of my lips twitching for a smile.
