Cajun Protection (2 page)

“I don’t see why we can’t just go huntin’
this fucker. He’s a piece of shit and needs to be taken off the
streets. Plus there is a hefty sum on this head.” I hate creating
detailed game plans, unlike, Hawk, who loves them and wants them
done for each case. I know in the end it will be to our advantage
to do this, especially with a stalker, so yeah, I relent.

“I see that, Wolf, but don’t ya know we can’t
go running through the bayou without knowing where he went to. He
can be gator food, but I don’t think he is. He is smart, I give him
that.” I nod as I drink my bitter coffee. God, I hate it when Hawk
makes it, or even when I make it. Neither of us can figure out this
new high tech coffee machine. It is something Snake and Gunner
bought, but they are on vacation right now. The four of us make up
Wild Bounty, the best bounty hunters in the state of Louisiana,
hell, anywhere else too if you ask me. The thought gets me looking
around the room and I see the small plaque sitting on the wall that
houses our business permit. I wish we could take it down, damn
thing had our real names written on it. Hawk’s name isn’t that bad,
Remy DeBlanc, a hell of a lot better than mine, Beauregard LaRue.
We gained our nicknames when we were little kids running around in
the swamp behind my house.

I had great parents, always attentive, and
willing to help anyone out. Half the time my cousins would come
over and we would have giant crawfish boils. It was the best time
growing up on the bayou, knowing what you catch—you eat. But my mom
had a soft spot for those who needed a little extra attention,
which was Hawk. She doted on him when she could. I don’t remember
how many times she found ways to make Hawk feel at home. From a
pair of old shoes or with just and extra sandwich. And being that
my mom was half Natchez Indian, she gave nicknames to pair with our
animal spirits. They fit all our time on the swamp. Hawk had sharp
eyes and was always aware of his surrounding, and me, I was a
silent predator, and extremely protective of family. It is rather
funny those names stuck even when we left home to join the Marine
Corp.

My dad was pretty awesome too, but he worked
as fisherman, catching shrimp, crayfish, and when we got tags,
gators too. It was a hard job, but dad said it put food on the
table, and kept him grounded. Hell, he even helped during football
season and coached the team at our local high school. Still does
when he’s not out on his boat. Shit, makes me remember I need to go
see him.

My momma, passed just three years ago from a
rattlesnake bite, it makes my heart hurt when I think about her.
She was always so careful, but when she went to check her garden,
she bent to pick up a pot and the damn thing was hiding under it,
it caught her right in the neck. No one was home, and the dogs were
locked in the back, and by the time she made it to the hospital
driving herself, she fell into a coma and just didn’t wake. It was
something I wished I could have been home for, maybe I would’ve
been able to help her. But she was proud of me, and Hawk for
protecting and serving our country.

We got out two years ago, and that’s when we
opened shop with Gunner and Snake, who we met in the Corp. Gunner,
Trent Trudeau, and Snake, Jeramiah Mayeux, became our employees,
more or less. The four of us served together, and lucky for me,
Gunner and Snake grew up only a few counties over from us, making
Wild Bounty one of the top bounty hunter agencies today.

Hawk snaps me out of my little daydream,
which brings us back to some sick bastard who is stalking a young
woman and even skinned her cat. Wish I could say I’m shocked, but
hell, in this type of work, we see it all.

“Fine, who’s the chick?” I ask.

“It’s Zoey Thornburg, some sort of teller at
County Bank in Bostwick.” I know the place, it’s small that’s for
sure, but to have a stalking case there is a bit unusual.

“Okay, maybe we should pay her a visit and
see what she can tell us about this Andrew Zamora,” I say before I
chug the rest of the coffee. Man, this cup had coffee grounds in
it? Grinding my teeth on the residual items in my mouth, I get up
and find a water bottle.

“We can, but I have to warn you, she has been
questioned by police several times, and out there they tend to
think she led him on. It’s not a good situation for her,” I hear
Hawk state while he picks up and washes his cup out before grabbing
a bottle of water too. I know about small towns like this, and it
is one thing I hate about them. If you have someone who is local
and has been for years, they get the priority treatment versus the
person who is considered a transplant. The more I look at the case,
and sure the bounty is a nice sum, but knowing this dipshit will be
off the street is better.

“I still say we talk to her, and tell her
like it is,” I suggest.

“‘Kay, let’s head on out, it’s a good
forty-five minute drive to her house, but I think she is at work.
So let’s get some food and hit a few places the fucker has been
known to hang out and then hit her up.”

“Works for me.” I grab my bag that holds all
my tools, and anything I might need for any case before jumping
into my Ford F150 and we speed down the road to Bostwick.

The drive is pretty steady and I love days
like this. An open winding road in the middle of nowhere, only
thing out here are gators, snakes, and other critters that wouldn’t
mind eating whatever falls into its waters.

They have a saying in the bayou, ‘What goes
into the bayou, doesn’t always come out of the bayou.’

We make it to the small sleepy town of
Bostwick in record time, well, because I like to hit the gas pedal
and feel the rumble of the truck. The only other thing I enjoy more
is my boat, which we use for work and play. It is great for fishing
crawfish, or shrimp for gumbo or jambalaya when I have the time to
make it.

“This it?” I ask Hawk.

“Seems to be.”

“Shit, I can piss longer than it will take to
drive through this town.” And I can, the damn road couldn’t be a
mile long with the town.

“This is the main road in town, the rest is
pretty spread out. Let’s start at the bar.” Long Shots sits between
two large oak trees, and various cars and bikes litter the parking
lot. As soon as I pull in the smell of food hits me, making my
stomach growl. Maybe eating here will be good too.

I reach for the heavy wood door and push my
way inside. The music is playing some soothing Jazz, which is
probably normal this time of day. Several people stop and look
around at us. It isn’t like they can avoid the way we look. We both
are about six-two to six-three. We also tend to work out a lot, but
I will say, it’s because of the leather covering our bodies and the
dominant look we both have about us. It isn’t anything we can do
about it, it is what it is. In our line of work, it comes in handy.
Most men don’t fight me or Hawk, so them not getting hurt doesn’t
bother us much, nor our insurance.

Finding a small booth off to the side, Hawk
sits down first and I follow. The table is slightly wobbly but not
sticky, and some of the seats look to have been put back together
with duct tape. The waitress who looks middle-aged comes walking
over to us, setting down some coffee cups and starts to pour us
each a cup.

“What can I get you boys?” she says with a
Cajun accent. It’s obvious she’s from around here, and I want to
use this to our advantage. I’m good at getting what I want, but
first I want food. Taking a sip of the coffee, I look at the small
menu she gave me; it’s simple: two items for breakfast, and three
items for lunch and supper.

“I want the
pain perdu
and bacon,” I
say. I should have told her extra bacon, but being we are on a
hunt, I want to eat light. Hawk orders the same thing.

The food comes out quick and soon we are done
eating.

“You boys seem mighty hungry. Is there
anything else I can get ya?”

“Well, ma’am, we can use some information,”
Hawk says with a smile.

“Information, huh?”

“Know anything about Andrew Zamora?” I ask
without missing a beat.

“I think you boys should leave.” And just
like that, she puts down the check and walks away. That went as
well as I had hoped.

Zoey

“Okay, I will see y’all tomorrow.” I lock my
drawer up in the safe and grab my purse before heading out of the
bank. It is only about three in the afternoon and I’m hungry, lunch
consisted of the cookies leftover in the break room and some water.
I would have loved to eat a big meatball sub, or maybe a Po-boy
sandwich, but I have no time, oh and no money. I keep forgetting
evil budgets. Since I have about three dollars and thirty-eight
cents until payday, which is in three days, I’m gonna go home and
eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, without the bread. A simple
spoon for the peanut butter and one with jelly. Yup, I ate the last
of the Pop-Tarts this morning, and I have a few other things, such
as Ramen noodles, but I don’t know how old they are. I’m normally
better with money, but it cost me a lot to move into another place
and away from Andrew and his stalker tendencies, and the fact he
slashed my car tires, and killed my cat. Anyway, that is how I
ended up here. But as my stupid co-workers say, it’s one hell of a
diet and I can use it to lose a few pounds. Evil skinny
bitches.

I pull my keys out of my purse and make it to
my car. The small parking lot is fairly empty and it is easy to see
everything around me, but I’m on edge. Until Andrew is found, I’m
always like this. He is the shadow man who haunts me during the day
and terrorizes my dreams. I just wish it was over. Getting into my
car, I quickly lock the doors before I start the engine. It starts
with a small little purr before I back out and head to my small
apartment. The apartments are set up like a small town homes. I
have to walk up the stairs and go inside, while the backside has
the bottom level. It’s different and not many of the things I have
are new as once again Andrew broke into my last place and wrecked
everything. It’s not like I have many friends or any family to help
me out. Sure, I can go and stay at Gran’s house, but I can’t bear
it knowing what Andrew could do to that place. Doing a quick double
take over my shoulder making sure no one is behind me, I open my
door and quickly lock it before taking a small breath. The police
have said countless times they will catch him, but he skipped bail
with friends, most likely got in a small pirogue cutting through
the small swamp area by the levee in the back of his property
before heading to someplace else. It was something he talked about
a lot when we did go out. His favorite fishing area, I didn’t pay
attention much then, but now I recall every words he said to me
like a bad play.

Shaking my head, I walk upstairs and into my
kitchen setting my purse down. It gives me a few minutes to think
of how I want to spend my night. I can take a bath, and read, or
maybe watch a chick flick. Screw it, I wanna watch
Back to the
Future
. It will keep me busy until I’m ready for bed. Heading
to my small bedroom, I pull off my boots, setting them in my
closet, and leave on my silly socks. Okay, so it’s more of a weird
addiction to socks. I have had so many before, well, I don’t need
to wonder down that crazy thought again. Today I have on toe socks
which sport a chick with glasses, and the words ‘Smart Chick’
covering them. Pulling off my belt, necklace, and pulling my hair
into a ponytail, I find my fuzzy PJ bottoms and a hot pink wife
beater with lace. I look in the mirror before I head into the
living room. My hair looks the same, everything looks the same, but
I feel so different.

Going to the kitchen, I go to grab my
so-called dinner when a knock sounds at my door. It is so loud it
echoes throughout my small apartment. Fear grips me and before I
can even think twice I grab the nearest thing to me, which is a
small cast iron pan sitting on my stove. I tiptoe down the stairs
as someone knocks again. However, this time I end up yelping,
scaring even myself. I look through the small peephole and see two
large men in leather. One has a beard and dark sunglasses on, while
the other has his longer hair pulled back, but his face is
clean-shaven. They definitely don’t look like they belonged in
Bostwick.

“Can I help you?” I ask through the door.

“You Zoey?”

“Pends on who’s doing the asking,” I
reply.

“We’re from Wild Bounty, we came to ask some
questions about Andrew.” Shit, no wonder they didn’t look like they
were from around here.

“Look, I told the cops all I know. But when
you find the son-of-a-bitch, shoot him in the nuts.” Okay, so maybe
I’m a little hostile about the whole situation.