Page 7 of Jacques

As soon as she steadied, he dropped his arm to his side and smiled. “Better?”

She nodded. “Thanks.”

“Do you want me to tell Rene you were tired and went home?”

“No.” The last thing she wanted on the tail end of a panic attack was to be alone with her thoughts. Keeping busy with other people around helped her work past the trauma. Plus, she wanted to hear that voice again. She didn’t trust her own memory. Although she’d gone down the wrong path before, she had to hear it again. To know for certain. “I need to work.”

“Then at least let me walk you home when you’re off.” He held up a hand. “Again, in case Bobby Ray or one of the other Fontenots shows up.”

“I really don’t need anyone to walk me home,” she insisted as they descended the truck ramp and headed back to the tent. “I’m only a few blocks away. It’ll still be daylight, and I’m only going there to get my car. I have to work at the Crawdad Hole tonight.”

Jacques nodded. “You’re in the apartment above Yaya’s Yoga, right?”

She shot him a cocked eyebrow.

He held up his hands. “I only know that because Rafael lived there. You were moving in as we were moving him out.”

Her eyes narrowed for a moment. “You’re right. Some of your guys helped me get that sofa up the stairs.”

He raised a hand. “I was one of those guys. That was a heavy sofa.”

Her lips tipped up at the corners. “It was worth the beer to get the help. That’s something I couldn’t have done on my own.”

“But I’m sure you would’ve died trying.”

“Probably,” she said with a laugh. “My epitaph on my gravestone would have read, Smothered by her pride and an eight-hundred-pound sofa.”

Jacques laughed out loud as they ducked beneath the corner of the tent. “I’ll be here when you’re ready to go get your car.”

When Jacques rejoined his team, Danny scanned the tent for the khaki men, but was disappointed they’d left while she’d been otherwise occupied. She did, however, spot Dale Pruitt sitting with Mitch Marceaux and Joyce Ashcraft.

Had he been there all along and she’d missed him?

Her stomach clenched. Could she have been wrong, assuming he couldn’t have been the one? After all, Fort Benning, Georgia, was a long way from Bayou Mambaloa. Why would a man like Pruitt come all the way to Louisiana to buy a fishing cabin? Closer bayou fishing cabins existed in Florida. If he had been the one, why had he come to the town where she lived?

Though she'd taken all the right precautions and trained hard to defend herself, she didn’t feel the least bit safe. Her head spinning with questions she couldn’t answer, Danny was suddenly glad Jacques had offered to walk her home.

He might be the only man she trusted. She hoped he didn’t prove her wrong.

CHAPTER 2

Jacques joined Xavier, Hank, Sadie and the rest of his teammates at several picnic tables they’d pushed together.

“What happened to Remy?” he asked, glancing around for his boss.

“He went with Jeffries and his people to the boat factory to show them what we’ve built here in Louisiana,” Xavier said. “Since I turned down his job offer to work for him in DC, he’s come to consider contracting with Brotherhood Protectors to meet their security needs.”

Jacques turned to Hank. “And you didn’t go with them?”

Hank shook his head. “Montagne knows what he’s doing. Between him and Swede online, they’ll give Jeffries the dog-and-pony show. Sadie and I need to be here with the community, learning how we can best help them. Besides, we’re joining Jeffries and his guys at the Crawdad Hole later this evening.”

“Perfect. So, it’s sounding like it’ll be good work for the Brotherhood Protectors…?” Jacques said.

“It does,” Hank said. “Remy and Jeffries promised to bring us up to speed tonight.”

For the next hour, Jacques watched with amusement as people ebbed and flowed around Sadie McClain, Hank’s movie star wife. She was gracious and patient, listening with real care and concern for the people struggling in the aftermath of the storm. Gisele Gautier, Rafael’s wife, had taken notes, documenting losses and what it would take for some to get back to a semblance of normalcy.

One old man said his house had made it through the storm, but the tree in his backyard had fallen on the chicken coop, killing the one remaining chicken the raccoons hadn’t managed to abscond with. If he could get one chicken, he would be right with the world.