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

by Deanna Chase

  The proprietor nodded. “Yeah. Most of the time anyway. It’s on the south side of their preserve. After that nasty business when that girl went missing, Emerson just wanted some privacy in a new place. There’s no better place to find it than the bayou.”

  “I guessed that judging by the six dozen no trespassing signs we saw this morning,” I said, an ache in my stomach forming. Did Emerson Charles have anything to do with Mia’s disappearance? Had he and his brother both played a role in the kidnapping? We’d have to try to find out what went down with Emerson after the shoot-out at Sterling’s cabin.

  Otis nodded. “Don’t ever head into unknown territory out there. You’re likely to run into the live end of a shotgun. And around these parts, missing persons are rarely found.”

  Just like Mia Trebelle. We had to find Emerson’s camp. There was no question in my mind that was the place to start.

  “I think we’ll stick to dry land,” Julius said, handing Otis a couple of bills to cover our lunch.

  Once the man had returned to his spot behind the bar, Julius stood and held his hand out to me. “Come on. I have a plan.”

  I slid out of the booth and raised one eyebrow. “And that would be?”

  “How do you feel about purchasing a camp?”

  “What?” I stared at him like he was crazy. “Does something about me scream outdoorsy? I’ve never even been tent camping. Hanging out in a swamp without air-conditioning sounds like torture.”

  He chuckled as he shook his head. “No, but I do think you might enjoy a little real estate shopping. You can’t buy a camp without seeing it can you?”

  The lightbulb went on and a slow, easy grin claimed my lips. Anyone looking to buy a camp would have reason to be out on the bayou. I just hoped there was something for sale somewhere near Charles’s land. “Julius, you’re a genius. Let the real estate window-shopping begin.”

  8

  “It’s closed,” I said, peering into the one real estate office in Mayhem. Damn small towns and their lack of any regular business hours.

  “Of course it is. It’s after noon.” Julius dug around in one of the saddlebags and pulled out a strip of paper and a ballpoint pen. After jotting down the phone number plastered to the front door, he slid his phone out of his pocket and dialed.

  I busied myself scanning the flyers taped to the window. Most were just pictures of random land without any identifying information, but there was one with promise. In the description it said it was adjacent to the Twin Forks preserve. I grabbed my phone and took a picture. If we did manage to get out on the water, it could be our alibi.

  Julius ended his call and grinned. “You’re not going to believe who the realtor is.”

  I turned to meet his amused gaze. “Who?”

  “You’ll see. We’re meeting in a couple of hours at Potions,” he said, referring to the microbrew pub on the outskirts of Mayhem.

  I hurried to catch up with him as he made his way back over to the motorcycle. “I have to clean up first,” I said, climbing onto the back of the bike.

  He glanced over his shoulder at me, sweeping his gaze over my body. “I think I like you a little dirty.”

  That smile tugged at the corner of my lips again. “A shower isn’t going to suddenly transform my entire personality.”

  “That’s good news.” He leaned back, covering my mouth with his as he gave me a searing kiss that left me breathless. And when he finally pulled away, he said, “As soon as I get you back to the inn, we’re going to finish what we started.”

  Then, before I managed a response, the motorcycle rumbled to life and Julius hit the gas, shooting us off down the street.

  The ride back to the inn was short. Less than ten minutes. The faint trace of coffee from Julius’s kiss still lingered on my tongue, and the thought of stripping off his clothes, running my hands over his well-defined, muscular chest had me quite preoccupied. I had every intention of dragging him into the shower with me.

  But the moment we set foot into the inn, all thoughts of alone time with Julius vanished. Instead, we were treated to a shouting match of epic proportions.

  “I already told you I wasn’t with anyone,” Hale spat out from the living room as he dodged a flying pink dildo.

  “You’re lying!” Moxie stood under the arch that led from the entry into the main house, balancing her plastic bin of adult toys on her hip. She held a metal chain in her hand, swinging it around as if it were a piece of rope. There was something hanging off the end of it, something metal and… Holy hell. She was going to whip him with nipple clamps.

  I cleared my throat, but neither of them heard me over the crash of the table lamp that Hale ran into as he kept an eye on his crazy girlfriend.

  “This has never happened before,” she said, her voice wobbly now with tears. “What am I supposed to think? Huh? You left this morning right before we were about to seal the deal. Got up and left me while I was naked and waiting, I might add. And now you’re not interested after you’ve been gone all day. Since when are you not interested? Who were you with? That slut Bella Donna? Or was it Cindy Lou? Or both, you two-timing bastard?”

  Hale’s face turned a deep shade of maroon, but I didn’t think it had anything to do with embarrassment or shame at being caught cheating. No, he was pissed. Beyond angry. “I already told you once I’m not cheating on you. I won’t say it again.”

  Another dildo went flying, this time hitting him squarely in the forehead. He sputtered and stumbled back, tripping on the fallen lamp. He went down, taking the end table with him. Curse words flew out of his mouth faster than Mamaw’s after someone swiped her moonshine stash.

  “Ohmigod!” she cried and ran to his side. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to peg you between the eyes. I mean, who knew that thing could be so aerodynamic?”

  Hale ran his hand over his face and then gave her an incredulous look. “You threw that thing straight at my head. What were you expecting it to do?”

  “I expected you to duck. Or are you too tired after your afternoon of grab-ass with goddess knows who?”

  “That’s it.” Hale brushed her off, climbed to his feet, and stormed out of the room. He kept his head down, not acknowledging us as he yanked the front door open and called back, “I’m going to Jake’s house. Cross your fingers he doesn’t make a pass at me since apparently I have no self-control!”

  He finally glanced our way. “Sorry about the yelling.” Then he slammed the door so hard the walls rattled, followed by an ornate wall clock crashing to the wood floor. Glass shattered and clock parts rolled under the desk.

  “Uh…,” I said and waved an arm at the mess. “Got a broom? We can help you clean this up.”

  “No, thanks.” She sniffed and wiped at her eyes. “I’ll get it. We just had a little argument.”

  Little? That was a slight understatement, I’d say. “What happened? I thought zombie night was a huge success?”

  She nodded and reached into a hall closet to retrieve a broom. “It was. But then this morning he got a call from Emerson and just left even though I’d just done a striptease for him.… And this afternoon, he just said he wasn’t interested.”

  “Emerson? Emerson Charles?” I asked.

  She nodded and pushed back her dark curls. “Hale does odd jobs for him on the regular. Frankly, I’m getting a little tired of coming in second fiddle to that manwhore.”

  I raised one eyebrow.

  Julius cleared his throat. “Maybe I should give you ladies some time to talk.”

  “No!” Moxie turned around and grabbed his arm as if she was going to physically force him to stay. “I think I need a man’s perspective.”

  Julius gave me a panicked look, and I had to stifle the laugh bubbling to the surface.

  “Please,” Moxie begged, tears welling in her eyes again.

  I took the broom from her and started sweeping, waiting to see what Julius would say.

  Finally he closed his eyes and nodded. “All right. What see
ms to be the issue?”

  “Well.” She bit her lip. “When a man is always interested, and I do mean always, isn’t it unusual to turn a girl down when she’s offering to do anything you want?”

  “Um…” Julius gave me a silent plea for help.

  “Maybe he was just tired. You did say zombie night was a hit, right?” I bent down and scooped the remnants of the clock into a dustpan.

  “Sure.” Moxie plopped down on the bottom stair and rubbed at her temple. “But he’s always been up for round two. Even round three. I just… I don’t know. Something is off about him today. And I know what goes on over there at the Charles camp. They have biker babes there all the time. I think he’s cheating on me. I just have that feeling.”

  “The Charles camp?” I asked. “You mean Emerson’s place in the bayou?” Hadn’t Otis said no one went out there?

  “What? No. He has a place in Twin Forks with a huge garage where they all supposedly work on their motorcycles. Hale said he was there rebuilding a carburetor. But I don’t believe him. He doesn’t even have grease under his fingernails.”

  That’s because he was looking at Internet porn all morning and probably already spent his load, Ida May said after popping up out of nowhere.

  “What?” I said, startled by her sudden appearance.

  “I said I think he’s cheating on me,” Moxie said again.

  “Right… I mean, you can’t know that. Not when you just have an off feeling.” Though wasn’t that how most men got caught cheating? When a woman got that little voice inside her head that said something was wrong?

  But Moxie shook her head. “No. He’s never turned me down before. He’s up to something, and I think it’s that slutty blonde, Cindy Lou.” She took the dustpan from my hand and, without another word, marched into the kitchen.

  Julius and I turned to Ida May.

  “What are you talking about?” I asked.

  She shrugged. I saw him looking at porn on his phone a couple of hours ago. He was right in there. She pointed to the living room. I don’t know where the drama queen was, but he was busy taking care of business by himself.

  Julius’s mouth popped open. “You spied on him while he was… uh—”

  No. She gave him an incredulous look. I left him to it. I didn’t want to see his peen. I don’t want to see anyone’s peen. The gods know I’ve seen more than my share already.

  “See,” I said to Julius. “I told you.”

  He rolled his eyes.

  Told him what? Ida May asked, a wicked smile transforming her features. Were you two discussing my many talents again?

  “Something like that,” I said.

  “Christ,” Julius muttered.

  Ida May spun around, twirling her thin nightgown. If you need pointers, I can help you out.

  “No thanks.” Julius, still shaking his head, took off up the stairs. “I think I need a shower.”

  “Want company?” I called after him just to see his cheeks flush.

  Sure enough, when he glanced back at me, his face had turned a pale shade of pink. “Maybe next time.”

  So much for our afternoon of romance.

  Stick in the mud, Ida May muttered as she drifted off into the ether once again.

  I sighed, and when Moxie’s little shih tzu ran into the room, I scooped her up with one hand and started sweeping with the other. The last thing we needed was the rambunctious pup to get glass in her paw.

  The puppy wiggled and squirmed, trying to make her escape from my grasp. I glanced down at her. “Don’t worry. We’ll get this place cleaned up in no time, and you’ll once again be free to cause all kinds of mischief.”

  To my surprise, the dog settled her head against my shoulder and stared up at me with big, golden brown eyes. And dammit if my heart didn’t melt right there.

  9

  “You never did tell me who we’re meeting,” I said to Julius as he led me up the wooden stairs to the front door of Potions. The brewery was housed in a raised building that sat at the edge of Swamp Lake. The parking lot was filled with a dozen or so custom motorcycles, and the dock had just as many fishing boats moored for the evening. It was the type of place the locals came to and settled in for the night.

  Julius didn’t answer me as he tightened his grip on my hand and tugged me inside.

  “Good evening,” the too-thin hostess said, her gaze sweeping over Julius’s body. He was wearing trousers, a white button-down shirt, and black suspenders, complete with a fedora. His nineteen twenties fashion sense suited him perfectly, and I couldn’t even blame her for staring.

  “Hi.” Julius smiled at her but pulled me in closer, making it clear we were together. “We’re meeting someone. A realtor—”

  “Oh, there you are!” The silver-haired fireball we’d met on the bayou tour rushed toward us. She wore bright pink checkered leggings under a black pencil skirt and a matching pink T-shirt that read Kiss my sass! She topped the look off with scuffed black army boots. She tapped an old weathered mailbag. “I brought a portfolio of listings so we can narrow down what you’re looking for. But if you want to see them, you’re going to have to find someone with a boat because none of them are accessible by land.”

  I gaped at Miss Kitty.

  “We can do that,” Julius said and turned to the hostess. “Three please.”

  “Miss Kitty already has a table. The skinny blonde waved a hand toward the dining room. “Follow her. I’ll have a waitress bring you menus.”

  “This way.” Miss Kitty bounced her way through the restaurant, stopping at a table next to the window wall that overlooked the lake. There was a white card in a metal stand that said: Reserved.

  When the hostess had said Miss Kitty already had a table, I hadn’t realized she had her own personal table.

  “Did you see my video is going viral?” she asked as she slid into the wooden chair. “A producer from Ghost Hunters sent me an e-mail already.”

  “Which video?” I asked, distracted as I spotted Bo across the room, hovering near a heavyset biker. The man wore a gray skullcap and a Twin Forks leather jacket. His beard was no less than a foot long, giving him a grizzly bear look.

  “The ghost video from the gator tour this morning. I posted, and it’s everywhere. I even saw a bunch of memes posted to Facebook.”

  “Ida May— Uh, I mean the gator video? You posted it and it went viral?” I asked.

  “The gator’s name is Buffy,” she reminded me, confusing my mention of Ida May for the gator. “And yes. It’s everywhere. I’m expecting a call from News Team Eight any minute now.”

  “Wow,” I said as Julius and I shared an amused glance. “That’s… crazy.”

  “You can say that again.” Her phone beeped with an incoming text. “Excuse me,” she said. “I have to make a call.” The vivacious woman slid out of her chair and retreated back toward the entrance.

  “Miss Kitty is the realtor?” I asked Julius, incredulous.

  He laughed. “At least she’s entertaining.”

  “It’s a wonder she has time to work between her snaps and tweets.”

  “Her social network of choice is Instagram,” he said, opening a menu.

  “Whatever. You know she’s on all of them. I bet she even has a Tinder account.”

  “Is that a problem?” Julius asked, raising his eyebrows in challenge.

  “No.” It was my turn to laugh. “I just don’t want to hear her say she has a date to Netflix and chill. I don’t want to hear anyone say that. Zombie buttprints were quite enough, thank you.”

  “Zombie buttprints?” the waitress who’d just arrived at our table asked with a hint of a smile. “Must’ve been some party.”

  “I’ll say,” I muttered and then ordered a beer. Hey, I wasn’t the one doing the driving.

  After Julius requested a soda and some appetizers, he grabbed Miss Kitty’s folder and started going through the available camps for sale.

  “This one.” I pointed to the flyer that was identica
l to the one at the real estate office. “It’s supposed to be adjacent to the Twin Forks land.”

  Julius set it aside along with two others boasting their proximity to the preserve.

  I glanced back at the entrance, scanning for Miss Kitty, but she was nowhere to be found. The music had ratcheted up, and the biker crowd had grown by another half dozen men. “I’ll be right back,” I said as I got up.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To find us a boat,” I said, already heading toward the group of bikers.

  The man with the long beard sat at the head of the table and seemed to be holding court as he waved a chicken wing and boasted about a new bike he’d just had delivered that morning. Bo sat behind and to the left of him as if he were a servant waiting for his orders.

  I was a few feet away and just about to address the bearded man when he turned to Bo and handed him a bottle of Mudbug ale. “Here, drink this.”

  I paused. Seriously? He was openly giving a high schooler beer? And no one, not even the waitress, seemed to care as she delivered another round to the entire table.

  Bo tipped the beer to his lips and chugged it, not stopping once to take a breath until the bottle was empty.

  “Right on, little bro,” a tall biker covered in tattoos said as he raised his own beer in a toast.

  Bo gave the biker the slightest nod of acknowledgement and then leaned forward to ask Beard something.

  Beard scowled and shook his head “Don’t push it, boy. Go find out what the hell happened to my gumbo.”

  “Hey, Bo. When you’ve managed to find Emerson’s gumbo, grab me a beer?” another biker called, holding his bottle up. “I’m going to be dry soon.”

  So the guy with the beard was Emerson Charles. I studied him, noting the coldness in his dark eyes as he waited for Bo to heed his order.

  After gritting his teeth, the teenager nodded at the other biker, rose, and started to make his way toward the bar where the waitress was waiting for an order to be filled. He wore faded jeans, a solid black T-shirt, and work boots. A chain dangled from his front pocket to one in the back. With the exception of the full-sleeve arm tattoos, he looked like a typical teenager, complete with his sullen expression.