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“Probably not,” Remy said as he scrolled through his contacts list and shared Bernie’s phone number with the technical expert. “But if it isn’t a burner phone, we might have a chance of identifying the sender. In the meantime, you need twenty-four-seven protection.”
“You think this guy is serious?” Bernie wrapped her arms around her middle, suddenly cold in the heat of southern Louisiana.
Gerard handed her cell phone back to her. “Do you want to take a chance that he’s not?”
Bernie shook her head. “I just hate to be a bother. And I’m pretty sure I can’t afford to pay Brotherhood Protectors for twenty-four-seven security.”
“Don’t worry about payment,” Remy said. “Hank Patterson, our founder, doesn’t take on clients based on their ability to pay. He and his wife, Sadie McClain, set up the funding to offer services to anyone who needs it, regardless of their ability to pay.”
Bernie frowned. “Sadie McClain. That name sounds familiar.”
Gerard grinned. “It should. She’s one of Hollywood’s biggest movie stars.”
Bernie’s eyes rounded. “Sadie McClain, the movie star? Wow. That’s very generous of her and her husband.”
Remy turned to Gerard. “Since Gerard had initially been sent on this particular assignment, it only makes sense that he be the one to stay.”
Bernie met Gerard’s gaze.
He gave a subtle nod.
Remy continued. “The other alternative is to stay with Shelby and me. Or at the Bayou Brotherhood Boarding House.”
Before Remy finished talking, Bernie was already shaking her head. “I can’t leave the animals. I’ve already lost my beloved Gertrude and could’ve lost Penelope. I can’t leave the animals to fend for themselves.”
“Then, it’s settled,” Gerard said. “I’m staying.”
“Any idea what the text message sender was referring to when he said you have that he wants?” Gerard asked.
Bernie raised her hands, palms turned upward, looking around at her home, the house, the barn, and the animals in the pasture. “No. The only thing new around here was the foot we found. I can’t imagine that’s what he wanted.” She drew a deep breath and let it out slowly, her gaze returning to Gerard. “All I know is I’m going to burn the gumbo if I don’t turn off the burner on the stove. Death threat aside, dinner’s ready.”
Gerard looked down at his dirty shirt and jeans. “Though we washed what we could, we’re still too dirty to sit at the table.”
Bernie waved her hand. “So am I. The farmhouse kitchen was designed to seat a dozen workers. The table is huge, and you can’t hurt the chairs. The bottom line is, we can all eat in the kitchen.”
The men followed her into the kitchen.
“Sit,” she ordered.
Romeo popped to attention and saluted. “Yes, ma’am.” Then he winked and dropped into one of the wooden chairs. The others followed suit.
It was nice to have company in the big kitchen. When she ate alone, the table stretched out so long and empty that she took her food into the living room and turned on the television, more for the noise than because she wanted to watch anything.
Bernie scooped heaping ladles full of the chicken and shrimp gumbo into bowls. Her hands still shook after reading the death threat on her cell phone.
Gerard appeared at her side. “Are you all right?”
No. She wasn’t. Why was this happening to her?
She gave him a watery smile. “I’m fine.”
He leaned close, touching a hand to the small of her back, and whispered. “I’ll keep you safe.”
Warmth spread throughout her along with the sudden urge to cry. The lump in her throat wouldn’t let air past her vocal cords. All she could do was nod and hand him two bowls of gumbo.
He carried bowls to the table as fast as she could fill them.
When everyone had a bowl in front of them, Bernie poured the rest of the gumbo into a tureen. Gerard carried it to the table and set it in the center.
