Viper Game
Page 3
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Nonny blinked back pleased tears and turned her face away from him. “Since when did you learn to leap around like a jungle cat, Wyatt? They teach you such things in the service?”
Wyatt’s heart jumped. He hadn’t thought about using his enhancements in front of his grandmother. “I learned to run fast right here in the bayou tryin’ to get away from that switch of yours.” At least that wasn’t a lie.
She gave a little sniff as she looked past Wyatt to the two men who followed him much more slowly. Her sharp eyes couldn’t help but notice that the taller of the two was limping and the shorter one had dropped back behind him, almost as if he were a little reluctant to come here, but clearly he was really looking out for the other one, his gaze sweeping the bayou and surrounding buildings constantly.
She stepped up to the porch column, studying both men. “Are you hurt too, Wyatt? It seems the lot of you are all injured in some way.”
“We took some fire,” Wyatt admitted. “Helicopter went down and we were trapped behind enemy lines, but we made it out. Each of us took a hit or two, but we’re good. We’ve come to help you out with your problem and maybe get a little rest and recoup.”
“Just what does ‘a hit or two’ mean in terms of injuries, Wyatt?” There was a note in his grandmother’s voice warning him she wanted information.
Wyatt sighed. Sometimes there was no getting around his grandmother. She could be stubborn and tough when she wanted to be. “Malichai took a hit in the leg. It was pretty bad, but I was able to repair the damage right there. Ezekiel took both of us down, protecting us when someone lobbed a mortar in our direction. His back took the brunt of the fire. And I had a couple of smaller injuries, a ricochet when the helicopter first took fire and a stab wound just below my heart. Joe, our pilot got the worst of it, but Mordichai, Zeke and Malichai’s brother, is with him, seein’ to him.”
Nonny closed her eyes for a moment and hugged the pillar tighter. She swallowed hard and then took a deep breath and nodded. “Thank the good Lord none of you were killed.”
“It wasn’ even close, Grand-mere,” Wyatt lied, and kissed her cheek. “I want you to meet my good friends.”
The two men made it to the stairs and halted. Neither took a step closer. There was no denying the way their eyes glowed like a cat’s in the dark. His grandmother had been hunting all her life. She wouldn’t fail to notice such a detail, but she simply smiled at them both.
“Any friend of Wyatt’s is welcome here. I expect you’re both hungry. There’s always food on the stove. Simple, but nourishin’.”
“Nonny, this is Ezekiel and Malichai Fortunes. My grand-mere, Grace Fontenot. Nonny.” Wyatt introduced.
He couldn’t keep the notes of love and of pride out of his voice. His grandmother had raised four big Cajun boys, pretty much on her own, and they’d been wild. In truth, he’d brought Ezekiel and Malichai home with him not only because they were his best friends, but because he felt both of them could use a good dose of his grandmother. They needed to know what home and family really was. The cat in them was always seeking to get the upper hand with its need to hunt.
“Thank you for having us, Mrs. Fontenot,” Malichai said, his tone very formal.
“Call me Nonny. Everyone around here does,” she said. “And Ezekiel, thank you for shieldin’ my grandson when you were takin’ such good care of your brother.”
Ezekiel ducked his head, embarrassed.
“Yes, ma’am – Nonny,” Malichai murmured, and came up the stairs as if there might be a hidden mine under each step. He held out his hand. “I’m Malichai. Ezekiel is my older brother.”
Her faded eyes shifted to the man standing so utterly still at the bottom of the stairs. He was so still, he nearly faded into the night. “Good Christian names,” she commented.
The two brothers exchanged a long look. “Not so much, ma’am,” Malichai said. “There’s very little Christian about us.” He nodded his head toward the shotgun. “That’s how we read people from the good book.”
“There aren’t any gators close, ma’am,” Ezekiel said. “Are you worried about squirrels or some other varmint?”
Nonny smiled at him. “Human varmints, boy, that’s what this old squirrel gun is for. Human varmints and the Rougarou.”
“Hell of a squirrel gun, Nonny,” Wyatt said, picking up the gun. It was clean and oiled and fully loaded. “It looks new to me.”
“Gator gave it to me for my birthday. I told him not to remember such things, but once I saw how beautiful it was, I was fine with him givin’ it to me.” She waved them inside.
The moment Wyatt was in the house, he was glad he’d come home. There was something always welcoming and peaceful about Grand-mere’s house. Shame shouldn’t have kept him away for so long. There were pictures of his brothers and him, all young, along the stairway. They got older in the photographs toward the bottom of the stairs, but all had the same thick, wavy black hair and laughing eyes.
Wyatt swallowed hard, keeping his face forward and his expression clear. He didn’t have those laughing eyes anymore and it was through his own stupidity. He was going to have to talk to Nonny – to confess what he’d done. Knowing her, she’d box his ears and tell him no woman was worth it – and he’d agree with her on that. He’d learned his lesson the hard way.
Wyatt’s heart jumped. He hadn’t thought about using his enhancements in front of his grandmother. “I learned to run fast right here in the bayou tryin’ to get away from that switch of yours.” At least that wasn’t a lie.
She gave a little sniff as she looked past Wyatt to the two men who followed him much more slowly. Her sharp eyes couldn’t help but notice that the taller of the two was limping and the shorter one had dropped back behind him, almost as if he were a little reluctant to come here, but clearly he was really looking out for the other one, his gaze sweeping the bayou and surrounding buildings constantly.
She stepped up to the porch column, studying both men. “Are you hurt too, Wyatt? It seems the lot of you are all injured in some way.”
“We took some fire,” Wyatt admitted. “Helicopter went down and we were trapped behind enemy lines, but we made it out. Each of us took a hit or two, but we’re good. We’ve come to help you out with your problem and maybe get a little rest and recoup.”
“Just what does ‘a hit or two’ mean in terms of injuries, Wyatt?” There was a note in his grandmother’s voice warning him she wanted information.
Wyatt sighed. Sometimes there was no getting around his grandmother. She could be stubborn and tough when she wanted to be. “Malichai took a hit in the leg. It was pretty bad, but I was able to repair the damage right there. Ezekiel took both of us down, protecting us when someone lobbed a mortar in our direction. His back took the brunt of the fire. And I had a couple of smaller injuries, a ricochet when the helicopter first took fire and a stab wound just below my heart. Joe, our pilot got the worst of it, but Mordichai, Zeke and Malichai’s brother, is with him, seein’ to him.”
Nonny closed her eyes for a moment and hugged the pillar tighter. She swallowed hard and then took a deep breath and nodded. “Thank the good Lord none of you were killed.”
“It wasn’ even close, Grand-mere,” Wyatt lied, and kissed her cheek. “I want you to meet my good friends.”
The two men made it to the stairs and halted. Neither took a step closer. There was no denying the way their eyes glowed like a cat’s in the dark. His grandmother had been hunting all her life. She wouldn’t fail to notice such a detail, but she simply smiled at them both.
“Any friend of Wyatt’s is welcome here. I expect you’re both hungry. There’s always food on the stove. Simple, but nourishin’.”
“Nonny, this is Ezekiel and Malichai Fortunes. My grand-mere, Grace Fontenot. Nonny.” Wyatt introduced.
He couldn’t keep the notes of love and of pride out of his voice. His grandmother had raised four big Cajun boys, pretty much on her own, and they’d been wild. In truth, he’d brought Ezekiel and Malichai home with him not only because they were his best friends, but because he felt both of them could use a good dose of his grandmother. They needed to know what home and family really was. The cat in them was always seeking to get the upper hand with its need to hunt.
“Thank you for having us, Mrs. Fontenot,” Malichai said, his tone very formal.
“Call me Nonny. Everyone around here does,” she said. “And Ezekiel, thank you for shieldin’ my grandson when you were takin’ such good care of your brother.”
Ezekiel ducked his head, embarrassed.
“Yes, ma’am – Nonny,” Malichai murmured, and came up the stairs as if there might be a hidden mine under each step. He held out his hand. “I’m Malichai. Ezekiel is my older brother.”
Her faded eyes shifted to the man standing so utterly still at the bottom of the stairs. He was so still, he nearly faded into the night. “Good Christian names,” she commented.
The two brothers exchanged a long look. “Not so much, ma’am,” Malichai said. “There’s very little Christian about us.” He nodded his head toward the shotgun. “That’s how we read people from the good book.”
“There aren’t any gators close, ma’am,” Ezekiel said. “Are you worried about squirrels or some other varmint?”
Nonny smiled at him. “Human varmints, boy, that’s what this old squirrel gun is for. Human varmints and the Rougarou.”
“Hell of a squirrel gun, Nonny,” Wyatt said, picking up the gun. It was clean and oiled and fully loaded. “It looks new to me.”
“Gator gave it to me for my birthday. I told him not to remember such things, but once I saw how beautiful it was, I was fine with him givin’ it to me.” She waved them inside.
The moment Wyatt was in the house, he was glad he’d come home. There was something always welcoming and peaceful about Grand-mere’s house. Shame shouldn’t have kept him away for so long. There were pictures of his brothers and him, all young, along the stairway. They got older in the photographs toward the bottom of the stairs, but all had the same thick, wavy black hair and laughing eyes.
Wyatt swallowed hard, keeping his face forward and his expression clear. He didn’t have those laughing eyes anymore and it was through his own stupidity. He was going to have to talk to Nonny – to confess what he’d done. Knowing her, she’d box his ears and tell him no woman was worth it – and he’d agree with her on that. He’d learned his lesson the hard way.
