Page 2 of Bayou Sunset

“You need to come with me,” Brad said to Romeo.

Staring at Brad, Romeo couldn’t believe Brad had deviatedfrom their well-developed tactic. He was supposed to enter and state the tub was ready.

“Now,” Brad demanded.

Disbelief and curiosity wormed their way into Romeo. What in the world was going on? Brad had to know he hadn’t completely broken Bernie, as there hadn’t been enough time for the information to flow.

Realizing Brad would not budge on his demand, Romeo returned to Bernie. “I’ll be right back, and ya had best give me the information I want.” Without waiting for Bernie to respond, he turned and followed Brad out of the room. Once the door closed behind them, he said, in a low voice, “What the fuck? He be ready to tell me who be behind the bomb-making.”

“I’ll finish that up. You have a phone call.”

Romeo stopped in his tracks. They had interrupted an interrogation for a phone call. “Ya got to be shitting me.”

“Nope.”

“Merde. It had best be the president of the fucking United States for ya to interrupt me right now.”

Brad shook his head. “No. It’s your mom.”

Unfuckingbelievable.Why hadn’t Brad just taken a message? They were seriously busy now. Yanking the portable phone Brad held out, Romeo turned away. Trying to keep his anger at Brad from showing in his voice, he took a deep breath before he answered the phone. His mom would understand. She knew he had an important job and couldn’t always talk when she called. Because of that, he made sure to call her back.

“Hi,Mamou. Can I call ya back? I be a bit busy right now.” His mind turned back to Bernie and the information he needed. The longer they let Bernie stew, the better the chance he would realize his dilemma and clam up again.

His mother wept as she spoke. “Steve, ya Papa had a heart attack. I need ya to come home.”

Fear clawed at him. All thoughts of Bernie and his position at HIS disappeared from his mind. “How—” He cleared his throat. “How he be?” His father had been the epitome of health when he had last been home. Then he closed his eyes. That had been too long ago—way too long. He spoke with his mother regularly but hadn’t seen her in years.

“He be fine. I just need ya to come home.”

Merde. Although it was the answer he hoped to hear, he knew his mother, whose wording meant his papa was anything but fine. “I’ll be there tonight.” He clicked off the call, handed it back to Brad, and walked away without a backward glance. His mind spun on getting an airline ticket, getting packed, and getting the hell back to Louisiana and his family. And the woman he couldn’t have but dreamed about all…the…fucking…time.

Chapter Two

DAISY MAE ROBICHOUX sprayed down the deck ofSeas the Day, her charter boat, cursing the passengers she'd taken out earlier in the day. Why did people who got seasick allow others to push them into boating? Oh, that's right. They didn't have to clean up the vomit. She did. Or her deckhands would if they hadn't bailed.

At least the three men had a great time bringing in a nice catch, which they donated to the neighboring homeless shelter. She always recommended that option when passengers didn’t want to take their catch, making them feel good about their efforts. It wasn't like they were deep-sea fishing, catching sharks. It was out in the bayou but deep enough to catch larger fish.

She shook her head at the group this morning. They hadn't had a drop to drink, but they'd been as cheerful as those who had tied one on, and she'd loved that. Until the one got sick….

“Bonjour,Deyzee Mè,” Jean-Paul said, startling her as he walked down the dock.

“Look like abien amusant,” Pierre, his twin, said, laughing.

Her brothers never understood her deep attachment to the family's collection of charter boats. After their parents passed away, she and her brothers each inherited one of the three boats. JP and Pierre had sold theirs and purchased a bar. At least they had kept their father's love of John Wayne in their memories by calling the bar Dukes.

On the other hand, she didn't care if she was the only female captain at the pier. She loved the boat, the water, and even the sick people. The joy and happiness that came over someone's face when they caught a fish, especially for the first time, made this part of the job worth it. Besides, she would have to spray off the deck anyway.

Her obnoxious but loving brothers didn't ask for permission to board. They jumped on the boat, causing it to rock.

“Hey,Sisit,” Pierre said. “We needs a favor.”

Of course, they did. “Bonjour, JP.Bonjour, Pierre.Mais non, I appreciate the help ya offered in cleaning dabateau,” she wisecracked.

Pierre shook his head. “Ya be the one that chose to keep this stinky mess.”

JP, not to be left out, added, “Oui, ya could've joined us at Duke's.Mais, where be ya deckhands?”

The young girl she hired fell ill due to the smell of vomit. The other deckhand had called out sick. She questioned whether it was due to a hangover rather than actual suffering. He was young, and it had been a weekend trip. It wasn't the first time, but it might be the last. She would wait to see how elaborately he concocted his story.

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