Spirits, Beignets, and a Bayou Biker Gang (Pyper Rayne Book 3)

by Deanna Chase

  He let out an unintelligible sound and buried his head farther into the pillow.

  Cripes. I needed coffee and a shower. Coffee first. Definitely. Thank the heavens there was a Keurig right there in the room because waiting wasn’t an option. Not if we were going to get moving before noon. After I brewed the sweet Colombian nectar, I grabbed my robe and headed into the en suite bathroom.

  Way too soon I was out of the shower and drying off when Julius shouted from the other room. “What the hell?”

  I cinched my robe closed and ran into the bedroom only to stop dead in my tracks as my heart all but melted. Right in the middle of the bed was a white-and-gold-colored, fuzzy little shih tzu with her head down and her tail wagging, staring at Julius with her sweet puppy dog eyes.

  “Who’s your friend?” I asked, sitting on the edge of the bed and petting the precious little pup.

  His eyes narrowed as he cast my new friend a glare. “That dog just licked my ass.”

  “Um… what?” I asked, chuckling.

  “I was lying here, in that dream state where you’re almost awake but not quite. Then I heard the door open and felt the bed move.” He glanced up at me. “I thought it was you.”

  My gaze darted to the door. Sure enough, it was slightly ajar. I’d closed that last night, hadn’t I? I’d have to let Moxie know it wasn’t holding. When I turned my attention back to Julius, I let out a huff of laughter and asked, “You thought I licked your, um, backside? Come on, Julius. Does that sound like something I’d do?”

  He raised one eyebrow.

  “Never mind. Don’t answer that. Why were your butt cheeks on display anyway? I mean, the dog didn’t burrow under the covers, did she?”

  He gave me a flat stare. “I lifted the covers, thinking it was you.”

  “Oh.” I covered my mouth and then fell out laughing again, nearly rolling off the bed as the dog started yapping at him.

  “Christ,” he muttered and climbed out of the bed, doing nothing to conceal his hard, muscular body.

  I sobered, my mouth suddenly going dry as I stared at his perfectly shaped backside. No wonder the dog had sampled it.

  “Stop staring,” Julius said without looking back at me.

  “You’ve got to be kidding. If you’re going to walk around flaunting it, I’m going to admire it.”

  He glanced over his shoulder at me, heat smoldering in his gaze. I thought for a second he was going to retreat back to the bed, but the dog started pawing at my hand and growling as if she wanted to play.

  I smiled at the little troublemaker. Then to Julius I said, “Go shower. I’ll find out who’s in charge of this little bundle of mischief.”

  “Mischief. Right. More like pain in the—”

  I help my hand up. “No disparaging her. You’ll hurt her feelings.” Grinning, I scooped the dog up and snuggled her as if she needed to be protected. The dog gave out a yelp of approval while Julius shook his head and disappeared into the bathroom.

  “You’re quite the little miss, aren’t you?” I said, leaving her in the middle of the bed as I pulled on jeans and a tank top. She wagged her tail, then rolled over onto her back, showing me her belly. Well, who could resist that? After rubbing her tummy and cooing at her some more, I scooped her up, put her on the floor, and the pair of us headed downstairs with her at my heels.

  “Anyone missing something?” I asked, descending the stairs.

  Moxie stopped scrubbing the body paint off the desk and glanced up at me.

  The dog barked, making her presence known.

  Moxie’s gaze shifted to my feet. “Stella! Are you getting into trouble again?”

  The dog wiggled her butt, then shot straight into the living room and disappeared under the couch.

  Moxie sighed and gave me an apologetic look. “Crazy dog. Did she wake you up?”

  I shook my head. “We’re headed out anyway. But she did manage to break into our room this morning. So did Mr. Laveaux. I swear I shut that door both times. You might want to take a look at the lock.”

  Moxie’s smile fell. “Crap. Okay. I’ll have Hale check it again.”

  “Again?”

  She nodded. “The last guests complained about it too, but Hale said it was fine. I’m really sorry about that.”

  I waved a hand. “It’s all right. Who doesn’t love waking up to an adorable puppy? Even if she is a little mischievous.”

  Someone behind me cleared his throat. I spun and spotted Julius, his cheeks stained pink. A chuckle bubbled out as I recalled his introduction to Stella.

  “Good morning, Moxie,” Julius said, ignoring me. “Have a good night?”

  The inn owner let out a contented sigh. “The best, thank you.”

  Julius and I shared a knowing glance.

  It was her turn to flush, but instead of averting her gaze, she grinned. “Zombie night ended with a bang, if you know what I mean.”

  I choked out a laugh.

  “That’s… Well, congrats,” Julius said and grabbed my hand, tugging me out the front door.

  “It’s too early for this,” I complained as I slid off the motorcycle and covered my mouth to hide my yawn. The one cup of coffee hadn’t been nearly enough. And the excitement of puppy cuddles had long since worn off.

  Julius secured our helmets to the bike, then nudged me toward the swamp-tour office. “You’ll thank me when we’re tucked away in the air-conditioning this afternoon while the heat index reaches hell levels.”

  He had a point. It was still spring in southern Louisiana but it was unseasonably warm with what felt like ninety-nine percent humidity. If we made it back in to town before a thunderstorm hit, we’d be lucky. “Yeah. Okay. But I want drinks with my air-conditioning.”

  “Done.” His motorcycle boots clattered on the wooden steps as we entered the souvenir shop. Stuffed gators, along with creepy gator skulls and teeth, lined one wall.

  “Morning,” a man said from behind the counter. “Y’all got a reservation?”

  I shook my head. “No. But if you have space on one of your airboats, we’d love to hop a ride.”

  The man rubbed at his weathered jaw and squinted at an appointment book. “Looks like Bo has a few openings in twenty minutes. Pay here.”

  Julius stepped up and handed over a wad of cash.

  I scanned the makeshift office behind him. There was a desk with scattered paper, a computer, and a wall cabinet. Not much to search. Or much opportunity with the old guy manning the counter. “Is that a restroom back there?” I asked pointing to the door in the office.

  “There are Port-O-Lets outside,” the man grumbled without even looking up.

  “Uh, actually I was hoping to wash my hands. If it isn’t too much trouble—”

  “Fine. Go on back, but be quick about it. I don’t want everyone thinking it’s the public piss pot.”

  Everyone? So far, Julius and I were the only other two people in the place. “Thank you.” I leaned up to give Julius a quick kiss on his cheek, and when I did, I whispered, “Distract him when I come out.”

  Julius gave me a slight nod before turning to inspect the gator skulls. But I heard him mutter a spell under his breath. A faint glow covered his hands, then winked out before he turned and called to the employee, “Can you get that skull down for me.”

  As I was entering the employee bathroom, I passed the older man, who was singularly focused on Julius, his eyes slightly glazed. Julius had cast some sort of spell. Good, that would give me a little time.

  I smiled to myself. It was nice having a resourceful man around. Poking my head out the door, I spotted the man on a short ladder, reaching for a large skull they’d secured to the wall. This was my one shot to search for the key. Careful to not make any noise, I hurried to the desk, pulled open the bottom drawer, and frowned at the stack of cigarettes and Red Bull. At least it was organized. The second drawer revealed reams of computer paper and a balance book. The third had a stack of pens and lots of alligator jerky. No key in sigh
t.

  Scanning the room, I locked eyes on the filing cabinet. Something had to be there, right? Wrong. While keeping an eye on Julius and the old man, I rummaged through the four drawers, but they were jam-packed full of files. Nothing.

  The only place left to look was another small desk with a plastic storage container under it. I pulled the lid off and jumped back, stifling a yelp. Holy hell. There was a baby alligator in there. The gator lifted his head but made no effort to move. No wonder. He was sitting on a cool pack. Keeping gators cool made them lethargic. They must’ve brought him out for the tour.

  I quickly placed the cover back on the container, and just as I started to head back toward the door to the shop, I heard Julius and the sales clerk heading my way. “Dammit,” I muttered and hunched down, intending to keep a low profile until I made my way across the room.

  “What are you doing in here?”

  I quickly moved my hands to my shoelaces, pretending to retie them. Glancing up, I spotted the teenager from the night before, only he was sober this time, dressed in a polo shirt that had a gator emblem and the initials MGT stamped above it. “I just need to use the restroom.”

  He glanced at the bathroom, then the door to the gift shop, and frowned.

  I was halfway across the room, not directly in line with either. Time to go. “I thought the door was that way.” I pointed toward the empty wall and gave him my best airhead smile. “I’m directionally challenged.”

  “Uh-huh,” the teen said, grabbing the container the alligator was housed in.

  I popped up, waved, and strode back to Julius.

  Julius handed the larger gator skull back to the shop clerk. “I think a smaller one is more appropriate for the house. We’ll pick one up when we come back from the tour.”

  The older man scowled and said something about pain-in-the-ass tourists and deposited the skull on the counter. Clearly the spell had worn off.

  “Anything?” Julius asked once we were out of earshot of the clerk.

  I shook my head. “Nope. Nothing. Party boy showed up and almost caught me skulking around. If that happens again, he’s going to catch on.” I nodded at the teenager striding through the shop toward the back door.

  “Looks like he managed to avoid a hangover.”

  “Ah, to be young and indestructible,” I said.

  Julius smiled down at me. “You’re pretty resilient. Battling black-magic witches and deranged murderers and winning is a lot more impressive than surviving a night of beer.”

  A spark of pride warmed my insides. I had done those things and not only won but brought those jackholes down before they could hurt anyone else. I was pretty badass if I did say so myself.

  “Your boat is leaving in two minutes,” the old man said.

  “Thank you, sir,” Julius said and the pair of us made our way out the back door and down to the dock. Five other people were already waiting to get on the airboat.

  “Good morning,” the teenager said, an easy smile on his face. “I’m Bo, and I’ll be your guide today. I grew up on this bayou and with more than a few of the gators. So don’t worry, you’re in good hands. I hope you all brought your cameras because there’s a lot to see.”

  “Got the latest Nikon right here,” a young brunette woman said, holding up a fancy digital camera. Two others held up theirs as well while I patted my pocket, looking for my phone. “Got it.” I pulled the new iPhone out and waved it.

  “You’re not going to be able to get very good close-ups with that,” the bubbly brunette said.

  Her companion, an older woman with silver hair and appearing to be in her sixties or seventies, smiled at me. “You’re speaking my language, young lady. This thing Velma is carting around weighs a ton and has way too many buttons. There’s nothing wrong with a point-and-click version that will send my pictures straight to the IG.”

  “IG?” I glanced at Velma.

  “Instagram. Mamaw has over twenty thousand followers. She calls herself the Blue-Haired Cajun and posts about everything she does. Baking pies, canning pickles, grooming her cat, deer huntin’. Just last week she posted about her Bible group skinny-dipping in the bayou. Bachelder’s butt went viral. It was fantastic.”

  “I told him he should get that mole removed. No one should have a penis-shaped mole creepin’ toward their anus. It just ain’t right.”

  The other four people waiting started snickering.

  “You are awesome,” I exclaimed, holding my hand out to Velma’s mamaw. “I’m Pyper, and this is my boyfriend Julius.”

  “Celia Kay,” the woman said, shaking my hand. “But my friends call me Kitty.”

  “Nice to meet you, Miss Kitty.”

  She smiled at me, her thin lips stretching over her perfectly straight teeth. “You too, Pyper. Now, let’s go meet some gators.”

  6

  Bo maneuvered the airboat through the bayou like a boss. The kid clearly knew exactly where he was going as he weaved through the waterways, seeking out the wildlife. We saw no less than two dozen gators, one of which came right up to the boat, waiting for Bo to feed him his breakfast of raw chicken.

  “The chicken trains them to come to the boat when we come through,” Bo explained while holding the chicken wing near the boat to entice the gator to come closer.

  “Man. He’s a beauty,” Velma exclaimed while taking picture after picture. “Mamaw, get closer so I can get a shot of you two together.”

  Miss Kitty didn’t hesitate. She grabbed a piece of chicken and started to swing it over of the gator’s head. “Here you go, little buddy,” she cooed.

  “Ma’am, no!” Bo leaped in front of her, nearly knocking her on her backside, but not before the gator lunged out of the water, snagged the chicken, and nearly took her hand off.

  “Awesome!” Velma cried and pumped her fist in the air. “Check out the look on your face.” She passed the camera to Miss Kitty.

  “Hot damn! My fans are gonna love this.”

  “Ma’am, please stay back. You nearly got yourself killed.” Bo’s face had turned white, and there was a slight tremor in his tone.

  I didn’t blame him. My heart was still pounding after seeing the twelve-foot beast nearly jump right out of the water.

  “Nah.” She buffed her fingernails on her red T-shirt that read Trouble across the front in silver letters. “You didn’t think this was my first rodeo with a swamp dog, did ya?”

  Bo swallowed, then took a deep breath. “I’ll have to ask you to take your seat now.”

  “Sure, sweetie. I got what I came for.” She sat next to Velma and, with the elegance of Grace Kelly, slid on a pair of dark sunglasses.

  Bo shook his head and climbed back into his captain’s chair.

  The alligator floated near the boat, eyeing us, no doubt wondering if there was more chicken. We sat there for a few more minutes while Bo educated us on the Twin Forks preserve. “It’s been in the family for more than a hundred years. The gators know us and are mostly docile. If we’re lucky, we’ll find Buffy lounging on the dock of the family camp.”

  “Buffy?” I asked as the vision of Avrilla clipping a gator’s nails flashed in my mind.

  “She’s been living around these parts for over twenty years. Old Uncle Steele taught her to respond to voice commands between her routine sunbathing on the dock and waiting patiently for her share of the chicken.” He smiled then, his surly teenage expression morphing to one of easy humor. “Never seen anything like it. She’s almost like a house pet except she’s a nine-foot swamp beast who sometimes disappears for days at a time. No one knows where she goes. She’s only ever been seen at the camp.”

  Interesting. Julius and I had seen her… with a ghost witch.

  “Maybe she has a friend with benefits,” Miss Kitty said. “And when she’s gone, she’s off getting her groove back.”

  Bo chuckled. “I certainly hope so.” Then he fired up the airboat, turned it around, and we once again flew expertly through the water under the canopy of
trees and Spanish moss. A few minutes later, Bo slowed the boat, inching it along. “See that?” He pointed toward a freshly painted cabin. “Look at the end of the dock.”

  Sure enough, there was another alligator lounging in the sun.

  Velma stood and snapped yet more pictures as Miss Kitty photobombed her shots with peace signs and duck faces.

  And as the boat drifted closer, the gator lifted her massive head and turned as if staring right at us.

  “Watch this,” Bo said, gliding the boat toward the dock.

  Buffy lowered her head and closed her eyes.

  When the boat gently bumped the dock, Bo called out, “Buffy, retreat.”

  The gator didn’t move.

  Bo reached into the cooler and pulled out a raw chicken wing. “Hungry?”

  The gator opened her massive jaws and waited. Bo tossed the chicken right into her mouth. Her jaws clamped closed and she settled back down for nap time.

  Bo laughed. “Buffy, we’re coming ashore. Retreat.”

  The gator lumbered up on her feet, then slowly slipped into the water. She swam around the airboat, then disappeared beneath the brown surface.

  “I need a Buffy. And a moat,” Miss Kitty said. “A gator like her would keep that gossipy tramp Usinda from interrupting every time Hot Handyman comes over to… uh”—she glanced at Bo, her suggestive smirk vanishing—“to keep me… I mean my property… maintained.”

  Both of Bo’s eyebrows rose as he stared at her, his mouth open.

  I coughed to cover my laugh, then turned around and gave her two thumbs-up. “Way to go, Miss Kitty. Every woman deserves a hot handyman at least once in her life.”

  Her smirk reappeared. “He’s my second.”

  Julius nudged me with his elbow.

  “What?” I asked, eyeing him.

  “Stop encouraging her.”

  “No way. It’s been a little quiet since we left Ida May behind. I need someone to keep me entertained.” I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed the ghost’s inappropriate comments since we’d taken off on our road trip. Miss Kitty was helping to fill the void.