Hot SEAL, New Orleans Nights

by Delilah Devlin

  Her nose wrinkled up. “You always keep rotten chicken necks in your freezer?”

  “Well, they don’t start out rotten. But we reuse them. When they get really ripe, the crabs just love ’em.”

  She gave him pointed stare. “In your freezer.”

  His father laughed and slapped his thigh. “Hell, you think Nanette would let me keep rotten meat in her house? I have a small freezer in my workshop for bait.” He bent and picked up a ball of twine he’d laid beside the bucket. “Cut yourself a piece about ten, twelve feet long.” He snipped his piece with his pocket knife then handed the twine and knife to Amelie.

  She measured out the twine, eyeballing the length as it fluttered away in the wind, and then cut her piece.

  “Now, you get yourself a piece of chicken…” His father thrust his hand into the bucket and swirled it around until he found what he wanted then held up a four-inch-long piece of skinned chicken neck.

  Amelie surprised him, straightening her shoulders and walking to the bucket. When she bent to reach inside, he and his father shared quick, wide smiles, which they quickly hid when she straightened and held up her chicken neck.

  “Okay, what next?”

  “Well, you take your twine and tie one end around your chicken neck.” And he demonstrated.

  “A knot not a bow?”

  She looked so serious when she asked the question, she looked adorable. Wearing a pink tank and pair of cropped jeans with her muck boots, he thought was perfect.

  “A knot. You don’t want to lose your chicken neck,” his father said, not a hint of laughter in his voice. After she tied it, he checked her knot and nodded. “That was the hard part,” he said and gave her a wink. “Be sure you hold onto the other end of your twine,” he continued, then he tossed his chicken neck into the canal as far as the twine would reach.

  Standing about three feet from him, Amelie did the same, holding tightly to her twine.

  “Now, you let it drop to the bottom where the crabs are. Let it settle a few moments, so they can smell it there. Then start pullin’ it in, real slow. You pull too fast, they’ll fall off the chicken.”

  She nodded, her expression still deadly serious. “What happens when they get close?”

  “Thibaut uses the net to scoop them up.”

  “That sounds easy enough.”

  Standing beside his father, she mimicked the older man’s actions, slowly drawing the string toward her.

  “I think it feels heavier,” she said.

  His father nodded. “You got some crabs. Gettin’ close now. Thibaut, you ready?”

  Thibaut moved between the pair and stepped into the water. His father’s crab-covered chicken neck appeared first, so he carefully slipped the net beneath the chicken and quickly scooped it up. Three crabs clung to the neck.

  He picked up crab tongs, plucked the crabs from the net, and dropped them one at a time into the cooler. Then he moved to Amelie and performed the same tasks.

  She had five brownish-blue crabs and beamed with accomplishment when he gave her a hug. “Now, was I wrong?”

  “No, let’s do it again,” she said. “That’s a big cooler, and we need to fill it.”

  While she tossed out the same chicken neck, he and his father shared rueful smiles.

  “Boy, she’s a keeper.”

  “Workin’ on it, Papa,” he said under his breath.

  Later, when they’d finished filling the cooler—halfway was plenty, according to his father, the two “crabbers” walked to the water’s edge to wash their hands.

  “You should always look for gators first, cher,” Thibaut drawled from behind her.

  She scrambled backwards, bumping into him, then gave him a glare. “You could have warned me—before!”

  “No worries, Amelie. I’ve been keepin’ an eye out. Sometimes, gators smell that good chicken, too, and come try to catch a bite.”

  “That’s not dangerous?”

  “If there wasn’t a little risk, it wouldn’t be so much fun.”

  She tilted her head. “Is that why you do what you do?”

  He frowned. “Maybe that’s part of it. Or at least, it was. Now, it’s more makin’ sure my brothers make it out alive. That we bring every one of ’em back.”

  “If…if you left the Navy, would you miss it?”

  He reached up and tucked a curly lock of hair behind her ear. “If I left, it would be because I’d found myself something worth comin’ home to every night.”

  She held his gaze for a long moment then looked away. “Your dad’s waiting on us, Thibaut.”

  Thibaut hefted the heavy cooler and followed her back to his father’s truck.

  * * *

  Amelie enjoyed herself, even after she’d been assigned the job of dropping the live crabs into the big pot Nanette Cyr placed on the propane grill in her front yard. She’d used the tongs and looked away every time she dropped one to its death.

  The crab legs were small but delicious. Served with melted butter, along with large fresh shrimp, boudin sausage balls, crawfish etouffee, homemade coleslaw, and more slices of Josette’s sourdough loaf, she was sure she’d never had a better meal.

  Or maybe it was the company. Thibaut’s father bragged on her success, saying she could be his crabbin’ partner any day of the week. “And she’s not so squeamish like some women I know about tyin’ off chicken necks,” he said, giving his wife a pointed stare.

  Nanette smiled and shook her head. “Don’t look at me that way. Think I’m gonna put my hand in that nasty stew.” She glanced at Amelie. “He’s gonna hold this over me for the rest of our days.”

  “Sorry,” Amelie murmured, but her lips twitched. She loved watching how the pair fussed at each other. Their back and forth seemed to be the spice of their marriage. She turned to look at Thibaut and found him staring back at her. He lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles. “Now, you know where that hand’s been…”

  Everyone around the table laughed.

  * * *

  After clearing the table, the men were assigned kitchen duty while the women sat on the porch, drinking glasses of “port”, because Nanette said someone gave it to her and told her it was what ladies were supposed to drink.

  Josette wrinkled her nose. “It’s nasty. Got any more?”

  Amelie chuckled and poured more of the strong-tasting wine into her glass.

  The screen door behind them opened and slammed shut. Both men strode out onto the porch—Arnie Cyr to sit beside Nanette in the porch swing and Thibaut settling on the floor beside Amelie’s chair.

  She combed his hair with her fingers, and he glanced up at her and smiled.

  “We should probably head home before Josette finishes the bottle,” Amelie said in a mock-whisper.

  “I heard that.”

  Chuckles sounded, but moments later everyone stood and gravitated down the stairs to Amelie’s car.

  They settled Josette in the front seat, then Amelie turned to Thibaut’s parents. “I can’t say when I’ve had a better meal or enjoyed the company more.”

  Nanette gave her hug, then cupped her cheeks and gave her kisses on each.

  Arnie enveloped her in a big bear hug. “You be safe, hear?”

  She nodded and smiled at the couple, then climbed into the back seat.

  Once they were on their way, Amelie sighed.

  “Don’t go fallin’ asleep back there,” her aunt said. “Your man’ll have to carry both of us up the stairs.”

  “I’m not sleepy.”

  “Nice,” Thibaut said under his breath.

  “You young folk,” Josette said, shaking her head.

  Amelie settled back in her seat, content with herself, happy to be with Thibaut, for now. She’d worry about tomorrow when it came.

  Chapter 15

  Despite her warning, Josette made it up the stairs just fine, although Thibaut stayed right behind her to make sure she made it to her door. There, she bid him goodnight and thanked him for being so nic
e to her and her niece.

  “It’s been my pleasure, Josette.”

  “Tante, dear,” she said, then fluttered her fingers and moved inside her room.

  Smiling, he shut the door. Everything seemed to be falling into place. His parents had dropped heavy hints throughout dinner—silent, pointed looks and talking about future get-togethers—that showed they were happy to accept Amelie into the family. While washing dishes, his father had mentioned it would be easy for him to “get on” with the police department. That Remy would grease the wheels if Thibaut wanted to go that route.

  Being a part of the NOPD sounded like something he’d enjoy. Sure, he’d have to go through the academy with all the younger recruits, but his time in the service would give him “points” that would help him move quickly up the ranks. Personally, he thought he might like to be part of the SWAT team or become a detective, like his brother. But first things first. He had to make a decision about the Navy. If he left active duty, he could always join the reserves, which would mean he’d be gone now and then, eligible for deployment or to serve in a training capacity.

  He could still serve, still be a SEAL, a role he was proud of, but he’d start working on the rest of his life.

  He jogged down the stairs and headed toward the kitchen. Amelie had headed that way with the remnants of Josette’s pie while he’d escorted her aunt to her room.

  He paused at seeing the front door left ajar. She knew better than to go outside alone. Maybe she wanted to sit in the moonlight again.

  He strode out onto the porch, but there was no sign of her. And then he heard a car in the distance, its engine revving high.

  His stomach dropped. Something didn’t feel right. She wouldn’t have left the front door cracked for any reason—they lived in the fucking South. Where the hell was she?

  “Amelie!” he shouted then ran to the road, glancing both ways, but the vehicle he’d heard was long gone. He slipped his phone from his pocket and hit Remy’s number.

  “Hey, it’s late. Anything wrong?”

  “Amelie’s gone,” he said, running around the outside of the house, checking for signs of foul play.

  “What? You sure?”

  When he reached the entrance to the mudroom, he saw the broken glass. “We had an intruder. Someone was in the house when we arrived. I left her fuckin’ alone.”

  “Damn, Thibaut. Gotta be Fowler. Prints in Josette’s reading room matched his. We have a warrant for his arrest, but we haven’t been able to find him.”

  Thibaut bent at the waist, feeling like he could vomit. “Dammit, where would he take her?”

  “I’m calling this in. I’ll put out an APB. Can’t be sure what he’s driving. We found his banger truck. Get to the PD as soon as you can, but someone has to stay with Josette.”

  Thibaut nodded then realized his brother couldn’t see the motion. Fuck, his mind was racing, he had to get control. He wouldn’t do her any good if he gave into the panic threatening to overcome him. “I’ll drop Josette with our parents. See you soon.”

  When he returned to the front porch, Josette was standing there, her purse in her hands. “Stepped in pie in the kitchen. Lot of good my damn ‘sight’ is now. That bastard has our girl.”

  He led her down the steps. “I’m dropping you with—”

  “I know. I heard. Just be quick. Amelie needs you.”

  * * *

  Amelie knelt on the floorboard of the ratty sedan Tom Fowler drove, bent over the front seat, her hands zip tied behind her. By now, she knew better than to wriggle, trying to loosen the bands. For one, her hands were swelling, and another, she knew she couldn’t take many more blows to her head and stay alert. The last had left her dizzy with blood dripping from her nose.

  Tom Fowler wasn’t driving as fast as he had been. Now that he was away from her house, the last thing he’d want was to call attention to himself.

  Amelie felt stupid. Before she’d entered her aunt’s place, she’d kicked off her muck boots, then she’d been singing to herself, happy as she hadn’t been in a long time while she’d carried the pie into the kitchen. It wasn’t until she’d opened the refrigerator door that she’d felt movement behind her.

  A hand had gripped her throat. She dropped the pie. Then something cold and hard was pressed against her temple.

  “Make a sound,” the man had whispered, “and I’ll kill you. Then I’ll kill your boyfriend and your aunt.”

  She’d shivered against him and managed to swallow past his tight grip.

  “You gonna give me any trouble?”

  She’d shaken her head, all the while trying to think of some way to warn the others. Some way that didn’t involve her brains painting the wallpaper. But he’d moved her quickly out the front door, like he’d been following their movements in the house and knew Thibaut was upstairs.

  Amelie remembered reading somewhere that a kidnap victim should talk to their kidnapper, that establishing a rapport would make it harder for the kidnapper to kill. “You’re making things worse for yourself, Tom,” she said. “The fire, chopping up the furniture… That won’t get you much time. But this—”

  He gave her a hard, open-palmed smack that left her ears ringing. “Told you to shut up. You and that witch aunt of yours took my wife from me. From her rightful place. You done went against God.”

  She stretched her jaw, trying to clear the pressure in her ears. Talking to him just might get her killed faster. So, she stayed silent as he continued to babble on and on about how he’d been so disrespected, how they’d violated his holy, consecrated marriage. She didn’t dare blurt out that he’d been the violator by beating his wife, but she was tempted.

  Amelie fought to keep her composure, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry, but it was hard. All she could think about was the perfect day and evening she’d just had, how she’d been embraced by Thibaut’s family, how she’d felt like she and Thibaut were growing closer. She’d already conceded that day, beside the canal, that she was still in love with him, and she hadn’t had the chance to tell him so. She hoped she didn’t die before she could. He needed to know she’d never stopped.

  When the car slowed, she held still, hoping for a chance to run. Even if she didn’t make it far, maybe she could get someone’s attention. If she allowed him to hide her away somewhere, she might never be found.

  Chapter 16

  Thibaut walked into the station house and was met by Remy who was surrounded by uniformed officers who gave him nods then filed out the door.

  “Everyone’s lookin’, Thibaut. We checked his house, even returned to Josette’s shop, just in case he was lookin’ to make some kind of stand there. In the meantime, we’re knockin’ on doors in his neighborhood and tryin’ to find relatives we can call. I have detectives searchin’ deeds right now, too, in case he has property we don’t know about.”

  Thibaut’s jaw tightened. His fists curled. “What’s next?”

  Remy sighed, and his shoulders fell. “We wait.”

  “That’s not an answer I can accept, bro.”

  Remy reached out and patted his shoulder. “I’m scared, too, Thibaut. Josette okay?”

  “She’s shaken. But our parents have her, and Papa’s armed. He’s not letting her out of his sight.”

  Remy’s gaze went to Thibaut’s hip. “I see you’re ready, too.”

  He’d borrowed a Remington handgun and a holster. The bullets were in his pocket.

  The radio Remy held squawked. Thibaut listened as someone relayed the location of a rental house a cousin had mentioned that was empty at the moment, along with the address.

  Remy glanced at Thibaut. “Don’t suppose you’ll let us check this out.”

  He had Amelie’s car parked on the curb. No way was he sitting at the station when he might be able to help. He gave his brother a sharp shake of his head.

  Remy relayed to the person at the other end that he’d need backup at the location, and then he ran toward the exit, Th
ibaut following on his heels.

  * * *

  A single Coleman lantern sat on the kitchen counter top, illuminating the filthy room. Tom Fowler had tied Amelie to a steel grate in the floor, the rope knotted through the zip tie securing her wrists.

  She lay on her side on the grubby floor and watched while Fowler paced and searched the kitchen cabinets, cursing when he found them empty.

  “No power. No groceries. Hell, there ain’t even a bed. How’re we supposed to start our wedded life without a damn bed?”

  The statement shot a chill through her, but she stayed silent, not wanting to incite him into raping her as a means of subduing her. But time wasn’t on her side. The more powerless and frustrated he grew, the more likely he would be to take his anger out on her.

  He twisted the knob on the water faucet, but only a thin stream of rusty-looking water leaked out. He bent at the waist and hit the side of the sink with both palms. Then his head turned slowly sideways, and his eyes narrowed as he looked at her.

  Amelie wiped her expression clean of the fear that was making her heart gallop in her chest.

  “This is your damn fault. She saw you then she disappeared. What the hell did you say to her?”

  His spit flew as he shouted, a couple of droplets falling on her face. Still, she didn’t flinch. Nor did she break eye contact.

  “I’m going back out to the car. Need something…”

  As soon as the front door closed behind him, she braced her feet against the wall and pushed, which strained the rope around her wrists. She pushed and pushed, and then she felt something give, just a little. Maybe enough. She walked her feet on the walls to a spot nearer to her, that would give her more leverage, and pushed again. This time, the rope popped at her wrists.

  Rising to her knees, she glanced around for a sharp edge, anything she might use to cut the plastic band at her wrists.