Page 4 of Tav

“She hates them. Hates them all. Why the hell do you think she’s hunting them?”

Our heads turn to the angry voice in the hall, Niko standing there, his fists clenched. At 17 years old, he still has a teenager’s body, not quite filled out just yet, lanky arms and legs, nothing to be scared of. However, the fire in his eyes says something different. I’ve seen that look before, on his mother’s face. I’m guessing so has Marx, because he tilts his head as he assesses Niko, then gives him a nod.

“Alright then. Blanche Landry is your Ol Lady, Tav.” Marx nods once, effectively dismissing me to handle Niko on my own.

“Are you alright, Niko? Do you or the younger ones need anything?” I ask, stepping toward him, ready to help if I can.

He shakes his head at me, a frown permanently etched into his face. “Mom called. The hunt turned into a rescue. She’ll be back tomorrow morning. I’ll pack them up early, get them home, and off to school.” He looks to Marx and the brothers. “Thank you for having us. We’ll be out of here first thing.” He nods before turning on his heel and walking out of the room.

“You regretting calling Ol Lady on his mom yet?” Rider says with a smirk, “That kid doesn’t look like he’s gonna take it easy on ya.”

“He’ll come around when he sees how much I care for his mother,” I answer, shrugging at him. It’s not him I have to worry about. It’s his mother when she finds out that I’ve claimed her.

Pops claps his hands loudly. “I can not WAIT to see how this shit plays out.”

Blanche

I twist my wrist to illuminate my smartwatch, checking both the time and my steps. I blew straight over my 10,000 step target today. With all that exercise, I definitely deserve a little treat later. It’s been 12 and a half hours since I kissed my kids goodbye and left the relative safety of Rose Grove. A quick drive across state lines into this forgotten part of Louisiana and now I’m sitting in my car waiting for my contact. I had started my day tracking my dear old uncle, and then spending a little time around the perimeter of Eden’s Keep looking for weak spots. Using my intel, I had planned to rid the world of Royal Landry tonight, but instead, I got an SOS call to help.

I get the biggest urge to message Niko, to check in and make sure he got the kids to Tav, but I know my boy and he knows what he needs to do. Even if he leaned into that stubbornness he got from me; his sister would make sure he did as he was told. Get them all to Tav. To safety.

Sighing as my thighs clench instinctively at just the thought of Octavius Tombs, I think back to the first time I laid eyes on him. He thinks it was at the conference 9 months back. For me, it was perhaps two years ago. He stood up there on the stage with his brothers, listing the different security measures mere mortals can afford to install before getting to the good stuff. The stuff that private investigators like me need. The light shone down on his deep olive skin, black hair flopping over his brow, his beard impeccably trimmed and lined up. He was beautiful, and since then I’ve always zeroed in on his pretty face at trade shows and conferences.

Until 9 months ago, when my short, curvy mom body caught his attention, and I bedded him in a way that I had never done before. Aside from my very short-lived marriage and three one-night stands, it’s been me and the kids. Team Landry.

My earpiece picks up rustling coming from somewhere deep in the copse of trees I’m parked next to. Pulling my night vision goggles into place, I look into the wood at two people walking toward me. I can tell by the shape of their clothing that they aren’t a threat. It’s hard to attack someone when you’re wearing a full-length dress and carrying all your worldly possessions.

Sliding my goggles up onto my head, I open my door, step out from my car, and hustle my way toward them both. The fear on their faces subsides when they see it’s me, and not someone from the compound sent to bring them back.

“Blanche?” A voice softly calls as they close the distance between us. I have two contacts within the Keep. Justice, my male contact, and Loyal. The irony behind her name never ceases to amuse me.

“I’m here,” I call out, and I can see the nerves leave their footsteps as they pick up the pace.

Loyal and I share a quick embrace before I step back and look at the woman with her, her wide eyes staring at me. She looksyoung and like she’s going to crap her pants at any moment. Even though I grew up in the same environment as her and have a gaggle of kids, I never was, nor never will be, gentle in my approach to anything.

“Hey, I’m Blanche. What’s your name?”

She stares at me for a moment, her bottom lip quivering before she swallows. “L-lovely. Lovely Landry.”

“Of course it is,” I mumble to myself, although judging by her questioning look, I’m sure she heard me. “Which one of those fuckers is your father?”

She takes a step back, obviously not used to women swearing. Well, she better buckle up. We have a two-hour car ride to get through.

“Um,” Her eyes dart to Loyal who jerks a nod in her direction. “The Prophet. Mercy Landry is my father.”

“Is he dead yet?”

“Um, no. He’s being so brave and hanging in there. God has blessed him with more time.” I answer with a snort. If God existed, he wouldn’t have chosen Mercy Landry to do shit for him. “If you don’t mind me asking, who are you exactly?” Lovely asks in her quiet voice.

Letting out a deep breath, I square my shoulders and look at the woman I’m going to spirit away, taking her to a new life free from marrying old men whose saggy balls don’t work.

“Luckily for you, I’m your big sister and I’m here to take you somewhere better. Somewhere gray pubes won’t touch you.”

“Um, thank you?” Lovely says while looking mighty nervous.

Loyal doesn’t ease her fears either. She knows this is for the best. She just hands over a bag of stuff to me before looking at Lovely, giving her a quick squeeze, and leaving back the way she came.

Taking that as our cue to move, I heft up Lovely’s things and lead the way out of the woods. Because Lovely has grown upwith Mercy as her prophet, I know she won’t speak again until she’s spoken to. It’s how girls are raised under his regime. It didn’t work with me, obviously, but according to Mercy, that’s the Devil’s fault.

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