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“A few months ago, he found out what she was doing. She packed a bag, contacted me, and ran. He was going to kill her, and he’d made it very clear. Put a bounty on her head and everything.”
“When is his trial?” asked Abe.
“Now? I have no fucking clue. We’ll figure it out, but he’s going to answer for this as well.” The two men watched his face, shaking their heads.
“Take some time off, Abe. You need to take some time off. I don’t need you fucking up this case. Let’s do it right. For Lyra.”
But Abe refused. He needed to keep working and, if possible, kill Jessup Wolford. Except he wasn’t sleeping, wasn’t eating, and damn sure wasn’t making any headway on Wolford. It seemed he’d disappeared as well. Now the whole damn bureau was after him.
“Salcedo! Get your ass in here,” said his CO.
“Sir.”
“You’re fucking exhausted. You’re having nightmares. You’re not eating. You look like shit. It’s the holidays. Take some time off and get your fucking head on straight. Think about retirement, Abe. I mean it. You’re old as fucking dirt. So am I. Think about it.”
As his world began to cave in around him, the ghosts and voices assaulted his brain, day and night. He cried out for help, his teammates staring at him in the darkness.
“I’m going mad,” he whispered. “Mad.”
No one wanted to be forced to take mandatory leave. He didn’t want to go home, but it was the holidays. It was where he should be. He would surprise them. He would come home to them and, hopefully, get his head straight. Maybe the pond would help, he thought.
Deciding to take a walk through the Quarter to reminisce seemed wise at the time. His plan was to stop at the little bakery that carried his mother’s favorite macarons and bring her a box. Normally, it would have been perfectly fine for him. But he wasn’t thinking clearly. He wasn’t paying attention.
He should have paid attention. He should have been listening to the streets, not to the voices in his head. He felt the piercing stab of the blade, the low rumble of a voice whispering in his ear.
“For Lyra, you bastard,” growled the voice.
He didn’t even fight him. He deserved this. He deserved to die. He deserved to bleed to death on the streets. But something led him away from the city. Away from the streets and into the bayou. Something was calling him.
Someone was calling him.
Home.
CHAPTER THREE
The fun at the new island was continuing while Christmas and wedding celebrations continued at Belle Fleur. Tobias and Gail looked happier than anyone could have hoped, and all the new babies were squealing with delight, clutching their gifts from Santa.
“Man, I think we might have made it through a family event without shit hitting the fan,” smirked Code.
“You had to say it, didn’t you?” frowned Tanner. “You know that you’ve just cursed us. We’ve got too many brothers still out there.”
“Don’t exaggerate,” he smiled his boyish smile. Across the room, he waved at his beautiful wife, Hannah, as she spoke to her brother, Angel and his wife, Mary. She was stunningly beautiful. Then again, so was Angel. Even Code could admit that. Despite the scar he’d received the night he saved Mary, his face was beautiful, and Code was lucky enough to be married to the better-looking female version of him.
Code heard the alarms at the café and knew it was closed for the holiday. Tanner glared at him, but he only shrugged, grabbing Tanner. They took one of the ATVs to investigate.
“You just had to open your damn mouth,” frowned Tanner.
“Don’t worry about it. I’m sure it’s nothing, or maybe someone who is just hungry. I’m texting the others to let them know we’re headed out to take care of it.” Tanner sped down the main road toward the café, and the closer they got, the worse his stomach felt.
“Something is really wrong,” said Tanner. Without warning, their new friend Marcel appeared between them in the ATV.
“I do like this curious machine,” he smiled.
“Oh shit!” said Code, gripping his chest. “Give a brother a warning.”
“I am. Someone is injured badly. I cannot tell if he belongs here or not.” As the ATV stopped in front of the café, both men swiftly jumped out, weapons ready to draw.
The front door had been tampered with and was slightly ajar, only making them more concerned for the situation. As they entered, drawing their weapons, they saw the blood on the floor. There was no broken glass, nothing to indicate that someone had hurt themselves breaking into the café.
