Swamp Happens: The Complete Swamp Bottom Series

by Cora Kenborn

  I couldn’t help but grin. Addie cared enough to talk to Babs about me. That was almost as good as the words I longed to hear her say.

  Almost.

  The drive back to Addie’s was filled with comfortable silence, and by the time we pulled into her driveway, I’d already formulated a plan in my head. Before she could reach for the door handle, I leaned across the truck cab and grabbed her arm. “Go out with me Friday night.”

  Addie’s entire body stiffened, and the ease we had while at my mother’s house vanished. “You promised not to push me.”

  “I’m sick of hiding, Addie.” I groaned, slowing my words. “The way we were at Ma’s house? That’s how it should be all the time. If my own mother can accept us, why can’t you?”

  “I just don’t want to flaunt it yet, Zep. I haven’t even heard back from Roland.”

  “He’ll call.” My heart sank as I stared out of the driver’s side window.

  “How do you know?”

  Palming the back of my neck, I sighed and stared up at the roof of the truck “Because he’s an egomaniacal douchebag who has to have the last word. Look, Addie, it’s just a dinner out in public. I’m not asking you to fly to Vegas and marry me, all right?”

  Although, I sure as fuck wouldn’t object.

  Then an unsettling thought hit me.

  Shifting in my seat until we were face to face, I curled my fingers under her chin and forced her to face me. “Unless you’re ashamed to be seen with me. Is that it? Do you not want people to know we’re together because you don’t think I’m good enough for you?”

  “Zep, come on, I thought you knew me better than that.” Lightly placing her hand on my arm, she gave it a squeeze before tugging away, but I held firm.

  “I thought so too, but you’re not giving me much to work with. Unless we start acting like a normal couple and do normal couple things, then all we are is sex.” She immediately raised an eyebrow, and I chuckled, running the pad of my thumb across her bottom lip. “Make no mistake, I’d keep you underneath me twenty-four-seven if I could, but fucking each other behind closed doors doesn’t make us look anything but ashamed. Is that what you are?”

  The little line between her eyebrows deepened, and she sighed heavily into my palm. “Fine. We’ll go after work, but it’s just dinner. And no surprises.”

  “I’d never—”

  Addie narrowed her eyes, calling me out on my plan before I even had a chance to concoct it.

  “Okay, fine. Maybe I have a slight habit of forcing you into situations, but it’s for your own good. You should thank me.”

  “For what?”

  “Character development.”

  “Oh, that’s cute,” she said, wearing a smug grin that drove me insane. “You actually believe the bullshit that comes out of your mouth. And here I thought it was all a ruse to con your way into my bed tonight.”

  Turning off the ignition, I pulled her closer. “I don’t need to con you, baby. All I need to do is to remind you of the two things I do extremely well.”

  Fuck and eat pussy.

  “Fish and argue with me?”

  “Make that four things.”

  Her honey brown eyes crinkled at the corners, and for half a heartbeat, I allowed myself to get lost in their depths. With our faces only inches apart, her soft exhale breezed across my cheeks, and my body responded without question. Thirteen years had done nothing to tame the fire she always ignited in me, and as much as she frustrated the hell out of me, she was still the addiction I’d never be able to kick.

  Silence settled over us as our synchronized breathing became louder and more labored. Frustrated, fed up, and fucking turned on, I splayed my other palm across her cheek and crushed her lips to mine. Delicate hands trailed my ribs, pulling me closer as a simple kiss turned deadly. Tongues tangled, breath hitched, and my promise to not push her went up in flames. Kissing Addie always felt like leaving and coming home at the same time, and both poured into the frantic kiss.

  She was my forever contradiction, a living embodiment of the rush I felt in finding her again and the pain of the last kiss I stole before she walked out of my life.

  The fucking darkest day of my life.

  Diving a hand into her hair, I wound the thick strands around my fingers and tugged her head back. “Let’s go inside.” A few more kisses and I wouldn’t give a damn where we were. Addie’s neighbors could enjoy a free show.

  “Not tonight, okay?” she whispered, her voice betraying her usual steeled resolve.

  As if on cue, the old woman who lived next door stepped onto her porch and peered out with a mug in her hand. Her horn-rimmed glasses accentuated her stare as she bore holes through my windshield.

  Nodding over the dashboard, Addie answered my unspoken protest. “That’s why. Plus, I really am exhausted. Raincheck?”

  I couldn’t argue with the hopeful lift in her voice or the reassuring graze of her fingernails across my ribcage. The woman owned me. “I miss you,” I called out as she climbed out of the cab and held onto the door.

  An amused smile flitted across her face. “I haven’t gone anywhere yet. You haven’t had a chance to miss me.” Slamming the door, she blew me a kiss and disappeared inside her house.

  That’s where you’re wrong, Snow White.

  After finding myself sitting in her driveway a full five minutes after she’d left, it suddenly became clear Addie and I would never progress until she was free and clear of all her Shreveport baggage.

  Desperate times called for desperate measures.

  Dialing the number I’d stolen out of Addie’s phone, I took a deep breath, and her lingering scent only strengthened my resolve. Finally, on the sixth ring, he answered as if someone should give him a medal for picking up the phone.

  “Did you get the signed divorce papers, you piece of shit?” I clipped. Yeah, I was poking the bear, but fuck it. I was over this asshole the minute Addie blew back into town ringless and broken.

  “Who the hell is this?”

  “Don’t worry about who I am. Just make sure you process the forms and set Addie free.” Silence filled the line, and I pulled the phone away just to make sure he hadn’t hung up on me.

  Finally, he let out a humorless laugh. “Wait, you’re that loser fisherman she’s fucking in New Orleans, aren’t you?”

  “Watch yourself, Bordeaux. I don’t give a fuck what your name is; I’ll shove your dick so far down your throat you’ll blow yourself for months.”

  “Yeah, that’s the type of class I’d expect from Adelaide. Enjoy my sloppy seconds.”

  Seriously? What the fuck did Addie ever see in this guy?

  “Class? You’re fucking a whore with a Chuck E. Cheese frequent buyer card.”

  “I beg your pardon, Brandi is of legal age,” he countered with a non-committal grunt.

  “Good, she can vote, assuming she can read. She can read, right, Roland? And by read, I mean actual books with words that have more than three letters.”

  His haughty, rich boy laugh only fueled my rage. “Oh, this is a very entertaining conversation to have with someone who’s rifled through my trash. Tell me, is my wife still the dead lay she always was?”

  White spots clouded my vision as I fought to control my temper. “She’s not your wife anymore, asshole. Whatever you’re working with must not have done it for her because we barely make it through the front door before she’s tearing my clothes off.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “And once we’re done, it’s not five minutes before we’re going at it again. I guess she needed a real man to show her what she’d been missing.”

  “And what was that? How to be a whore?”

  “How to be confident, you controlling fuck.”

  A little over the top? Maybe. Unnecessary? Probably. But, fuck, it felt good to let this dickhead know it was my name wife screamed.

  “Maybe I should come to New Orleans and find out for myself,” he taunted, his tone thick with challenge.
r />   Oh, I wish a motherfucker would.

  “You come near Addie again, and you won’t make it back to that plantation of yours, pretty boy. She’s mine.”

  His chuckle filled the line like a detonated bomb. “We’ll see about that.”

  Everything around me went silent before a roaring sound filled my ears, and a dark haze clouded my vision. “Sign the fucking papers.”

  “Or what?”

  I squeezed the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white. A heavy weight slammed into my chest, and my head pounded so hard I didn’t know whether to drive to Shreveport and kick his ass or storm inside Addie’s house and lay claim to her. “You had what belonged to me for ten years, Bordeaux. Don’t sign the divorce papers, and you’ll find out.”

  Disconnecting the call, I threw the phone across the cab and collapsed against the headrest while pulling at my hair. “Fuuuuuck!”

  I must have been louder than I thought because the curtains on Addie’s second-floor window rustled, and her beautiful face peeked through. She wore a worried expression as she lifted her hand and waved.

  I waved back and started the ignition, thankful she couldn’t see my face as I backed out of her driveway and headed toward the docks. I needed to clear my head, and I’d always found solace on the open water.

  Plus, scoping out waters deep enough to submerge a body might not be such a bad idea should Roland Bordeaux get any ideas of screwing up what I’d waited a lifetime to claim.

  38

  A Patrol and Summons

  Pope

  New Orleans, Louisiana

  “Yo, Q-tip.”

  “Don’t start calling me that again,” I growled, shooting a glare at Gus from across the cab of the patrol car.

  The big man chuckled and shook his head. “All right, all right, boss.” His words were an acquiesce, but the sideways smirk he gave me said he had no intention of heeding my request.

  Fucking great. I had enough problems on my plate without my nickname from the academy creeping back up.

  Pulling my phone out of my pocket for the third time in the past five minutes, I sighed when saw I had no new notifications. I spun the phone between my thumb and forefinger, willing the blank screen to light up with a new text message from Savannah.

  After the clusterfuck with my father, we’d left the ball early. She swore she was okay, but in the past four days, I’d barely heard anything from her. Between my work schedule and hers, we hadn’t had a chance to see each other since she left my house Sunday morning.

  “Are you going to tell me what’s got you looking at that phone like it’s got the meaning of life hidden in there somewhere?”

  I dropped my phone into my lap and leaned my head against the seat. “It’s Savannah,” I said simply, as if that explained everything. And it should have. It seemed like she was the only thing on my mind lately.

  Gus’ hands tapped on the steering wheel along with the music he insisted on playing whenever he drove. I’d never understood the appeal of country music. I was more of a classic rock guy. “No shit, Sherlock, of course it has to do with her. But what about her?”

  I groaned and scrubbed a hand over my face. It was a habit I’d developed since dating Savannah. There was nothing quite like dating a Dubois woman to drive a man half insane. It was as if they had the power to take normal crazy to a whole new level.

  “Nothing, it’s stupid.” My fingers itched to reach for my phone again just to be sure I hadn't somehow missed a text or a call, even though I knew the screen would be blank.

  “Oh, come on, tell big Gus what seems to be the problem. I’m your partner, man. If you can’t confide in me, then who are you gonna to talk to? You gonna call up that crazy ass grandma of hers and ask her for advice? And while we’re on the subject, don’t forget you promised to bring her to one of my barbecues. I’ve got to meet that broad. Those stories you’ve told me? Boy, that’s pure entertainment I have to see with my own eyes.”

  “Seriously, it’s stupid,” I deflected.

  Great. Way to sound like a little emo bitch, Pope.

  “And I’m seriously telling you it’s not. Something has your mind all preoccupied, and you and I are out here on street patrol in one of the most dangerous cities in the country. So, let’s work through it in here before you’re distracted out there, and one of us gets shot.”

  It might have been a low blow, but it worked. Gus was right. If I didn’t handle my shit before we got a call, things could turn out badly. I had to think about my partner and not just my own petty problems.

  “Some shit went down at the ball with my father.”

  “Uh-oh, that ain’t good.”

  “No, it wasn’t. Things got pretty nasty. She says she's fine, but I don't know.”

  And that was precisely the reason I was so off my game. Because I didn’t know. For the first time in our relationship, I didn’t know where I stood with Savannah.

  Gus let out a long whistle. “That bad, huh?”

  I worried my lip between my thumb and forefinger. “Yep.”

  “So, what did King Dumbass do this time?”

  What didn’t he do? Just thinking about it made me want to tell Gus to head to the Garden District so I could give the asshole a piece of my mind all over again.

  And maybe even a black eye or two to match his soul.

  “He started grilling her like she was on trial. He even asked her if her business was profitable like he was weighing the pros and cons of a merger. It was infuriating, and he did it in front of Miller, Beaufort, and their wives.”

  “You just sat there and let her hang out to dry?” Gus asked incredulously.

  “Hell no. I tried to intervene, but she beat me to it. She handed him his ass and then left. I got my jabs ins and then followed her. I tried to get her to talk about it, but she just kept telling me she was fine.”

  “Mmm, yep, she’s stewing all right.”

  “I just wish she’d talk to me so I could fix it.”

  “Sorry to tell you, buddy, but I don’t think this is something you can fix. Sounds to me like she needs to work through how she’s going to handle navigating your family if y’all stay together.”

  If we stay together.

  The thought sent a pain straight through my chest. I didn’t want to be without Savannah. She was the best thing that had ever happened to me, crazy antics and all. This was exactly what I was worried about. I hadn’t introduced her to my family because I knew it would cause problems. My father had a gift for making people feel unworthy, and after everything Savannah and I had been through, what happened at the ball was the last thing we needed. She was already worried I didn’t think she was good enough to meet my family, and once she did, my father all but told her she wasn’t.

  “What did you say to her about it?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “For a college boy, you sure are thick sometimes. I mean, what exactly did you tell her after the Pope family atomic bomb?”

  “I just told her my dad was a douche, and I was sorry she had to deal with that.”

  “Did you tell her that she was good enough for you?”

  “Not in so many words, but she knows that.”

  “Boy, you’re even fucking stupider than I thought. Women need the words. They need to see and hear the words coming out of your mouth. And even then, it’s gonna take about a hundred times for it to start sinking in.” Gus shook his head and scoffed. “I swear you’re slower than a one-legged dog running from that gator.”

  “Dear God, you really would get along with Babs.”

  “All units we have a 507 on Decatur and St. Philip, please respond.” The disembodied voice crackled from the radio.

  Back to work.

  I groaned and Gus chuckled. 507 meant public nuisance, which also meant there was going to be a lot of paperwork if we didn’t get down there and handle it.

  In the French Quarter, you never knew what you were going to get. It was a melting pot of tourists
and locals trying to coexist in a fourteen by six block area. Add in a lack of open container laws and the atmosphere for debauchery, and you had yourself a cop’s worst nightmare. Generally, people didn’t act like maniacs, but hand them a Hurricane, and suddenly they’re a frat boy looking for a fight.

  Gus reached out and smacked my arm, pulling me from my thoughts. “How much you want to bet it’s Nick and Trixie going at it again?”

  “That’s not a bet I’m willing to take. These frequent fliers are fucking killing me.” I reached over and grabbed the handset. “Unit 5823 responding. We’re about two minutes out.”

  The same disembodied voice came through the speakers once again. “Roger that, unit 5823 responding.”

  Sitting back as Gus navigated the narrow streets of the Quarter, I soaked up the last precious moments of peace before all hell broke loose. We were on day shift this week, which meant instead of the usual bar fight or stabbing, we got called out to the most bizarre shit you could think of. New Orleans was like the Bermuda Triangle of the South; everything was the opposite. You thought the freaks came out at night? Wrong, the daylight attracted all the half-drunk zombies from the night before.

  Sometimes, if they had an extra dash of crazy, they’d start a beignet fight at Café Du Monde and pour coffee all over themselves before trying to jump into the Mississippi. That was an actual call we went on Monday morning. It took both Gus and me to wrestle the man to the ground. Intoxicated people were surprisingly strong.

  I noticed two things when we pulled up to the scene, the first being a woman waving her arms over her head erratically while screaming profanities. She wasn’t alone, though. A man ducked behind a newspaper stand as she chucked garbaged from a nearby trashcan at his head. The second thing I noticed was that they were dressed in costumes.

  Nick and Trixie again.

  I was smart not to take that bet with Gus. Trixie was a local who made her money walking up and down Bourbon Street taking pictures with tourists. I had to force myself not to roll my eyes as I took in her attire. She wore hot pink furry boots, silver sequined bikini bottoms that made her ass look like a disco ball, and purple flower pasties. Glitter-encrusted angel wings and a hot pink feather boa completed the outfit. Her on again/off again boyfriend, Nick, was also in costume. He was a street performer who worked on Bourbon as well, only instead of taking pictures with tourists, he was the friendly neighborhood tin man who was presently covered head to toe in silver body paint.