Bayou Bishops Box Set: Books 1-12

CHAPTER 2

Sahvrin quickly strode across the pier, angling his head to get a read on the night sky through the dense canopy of trees. It was nice to finally be back at his tiny, isolated swamp home. He reminded himself this was why he didn’t give the night run job to anybody else. He wanted it. Needed it. This was where he unwound from the constant needs and demands of his land business.

Shit, the storm was close.

He tossed his bait sack and supply bag into the pirogue and climbed in. Being the week of the crawfish festival meant drunks would hopefully put off sabotaging livelihoods till next week. Maybe. But that didn’t account for the other shit brewing in the swamp.

The second he cleared his hidden cove, lightening greeted him with a spidery handwave across the dark sky. Thunder followed ten miles behind like a prelude to the sinister things on the horizon. It had only been two days since they broke off with the Roulette Gang, but it was a fucking glorious two days to be rid of that filthy tie.

His mind returned to the girl in town, followed by anger. Mon Dieu, she was like a mental plague, nagging at his conscience. He couldn’t take back how he’d acted, it was done, over with. He’d had a bad day and a bad week before that, and now he was arguing with himself again about it. All his years of avoiding women had turned into him being married to himself. And his other half--apparently Saint fucking Sahvrin--cut him no slack.

The sky lit up again with another light show but this time the thunder dragged its feet, putting the storm twenty miles away. He could make it. Old man Pierre and Leblanc paid him plenty to babysit their traps even in the rain.

Come Monday, he’d have his drone shipment unless the new postal worker delivered it to Canada by accident. The replacement would let him patrol traps from the convenience of his front porch. This time he wouldn’t let his alligator buddy Gras Jean mistake it for a snack. And if he did, he’d make a fat wallet with his hide.

Sahvrin finally made it to Pierre’s fish traps. He shut off the small engine, ready to enjoy some night tunes from the bayou. Only ten minutes in, he picked up a trap, along with an odd sound. Carefully baiting it, he lowered it back in the water, straining to hear around a deep roll of thunder.

The noise came again, and he grabbed his shotgun. Definitely human. He listened harder, his mind going through any animals that might make this sound while fighting to pinpoint the location it’d come from.

A distressed cry rode the air, and he yanked the cord on the motor, turning the boat around. Pulling out his flood light, he stood and scanned the trees slowly around him. “Help! Please!”

He jerked the beam left and it landed on a small head in the water near a cluster of trees. “Mon Dieu,” he swore, hurrying the boat in their direction as fast as the motor could manage.

He set the light down and stopped next to a woman, stretching his hand out to her. Reaching her arm, he latched on and pulled her up a little and froze. “Mon fucking Dieu!” he whispered at the blood and gashes all over her face. Her left eye was nearly shut, and her lower lip split and swollen. He carefully pulled her into the boat. “I got you, I got you, ma-petite. I’m not going to hurt you.”

His rage burned at seeing she only had underclothes on, her whole body black and blue. The noises she made said she’d been badly hurt. He looked around for the evil he felt crawling along his skin while getting the motor going. Clicking the light off, he sped as fast as he could toward his home with one hand on his shotgun.

“Please don’t hurt me, please, please,” she begged between sobs.

The terror in her voice made his blood boil but something else sickened his stomach. Fuck, please, no, no, no, don’t let it be her. “Ma-ch`ere, I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, fighting to keep his voice soft. “Can you tell me what happened to you? I’m taking you someplace safe.”

She only answered with sobbing mixed with painful groans that threatened to undo him.

“Shhh, shhh, it’s okay, Ma Petite, don’t talk. On-est proche-la, it won’t be long, I promise you. Save your strength. We’ll get you help, just hold on for me.”

Sahvrin hated to but he took the long way back. He couldn’t risk being followed. The woman from town’s na?ve, happy face kept cycling in his head until he craved to kill.

If it was her, she’d obviously escaped being trafficked. And being as beautiful as she was, whoever was responsible would definitely be down a lot of money. They’d come looking. God, he prayed they fucking did. Even as his guilt ate at him, he had to acknowledge the miracle of finding her. And he did, with a soul burning gratitude.

Back in his cove, he shut off the motor and tied the boat secure before climbing out. He glanced at the girl and panic hit him at how quiet and still she was. He found his small flashlight and knelt next to the boat, shining it on her. Please don’t be fucking dead, please. He laid the light on the pier and reached out to touch her neck for a pulse.

She bolted up, screaming, arms flying. “Shhhhh, shhh, ma-ch`ere, you’re okay,” he called, holding his hands up to show he wasn’t a threat. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he added, watching her slowly realize her surroundings. “I found you in the water? You’re safe, I promise.” He drew a quick cross over his heart, the shadows hiding her face from him.

She let out a sob and he aimed the light beam just to her left, not wanting to blind her. But he needed to see. His stomach knotted with sickness at finally getting a good look. Fucking Dieu, it was her.

She didn’t seem to recognize him and now he wasn’t sure giving his name was the best idea. But her knowing he wasn’t a threat was more important. “You know me, Ma Petite,” he said gently, lowering the flashlight to the pier. “We met a couple of days ago? I was the town prick, Sahvrin Bishop?”

She suddenly gave a loud sob and reached for him, the act cutting him to pieces as he hurried and took hold of her upper arms. “Can you stand for me Ma Petite? You’re safe here, I promise you.”

Her body shook as she fought to get to her feet. “Yes, that’s it, come to me.” He managed to get her on the pier, fighting the need to scoop her up in his arms. “Can you walk?”

Her jaw shook and she crossed her arms over her chest, reminding him she was in only undergarments.

“I will go get a blanket to cover you, Ma Petite. Can I do that?”

His eyes adjusted in the darkness, making out that she looked at him for many seconds then nodded.

“Don’t try to move, I don’t want you to hurt yourself. You’ll wait?”

She nodded more and he went quickly, not wanting to leave her alone. There was no logical reason to fear anybody finding his place, not unless they knew him and even then, he’d likely have to lead the way.

Returning with his heirloom patch quilt, he held it out toward her as he came. “My mother made this quilt when I was a young boy,” he said, hoping to put her at ease as he carefully wrapped it around her shoulders.

She held it closed tightly, staring up at him. Shock and trauma had her eyes wide and wild, her trembling lips shut. “Can you walk, Ma Petite?” he asked very gently. “Please, let me help you.” He put his arms around her, relieved that she didn’t fight.

Her jaw rattled loudly as she took a step then choked out a sob.

He scooped her up in his arms. “I got you, I got you, shhhh. No walking for you.”

He hurried down the pier, needing to get her in the light to see how bad she was hurt. He may end up having to put her right back in his air boat and get her to a hospital.

****

Beth fought to stop her jaw from clattering as he carried her. She clung to his neck and hid her face in his shoulder. How was it possible, how did he find her? Why was he out there? Was he looking for her? Did he know she was missing? He’d all but predicted what happened to her and that caused her to feel so stupid and dirty down to her soul.

She tried to see where they were but hurt too much to move. Every time he spoke, his kind voice and words pushed back her fears while making her wonder if he was really the same person. But unless he had a twin, she’d never forget his hauntingly handsome face.

But no sleeping, she had to stay awake, she had to keep her eyes open and remain alert. There were too many crazy questions for her to blindly trust and she swore never to do that again. She needed to be ready and able to fight if she had to.

“Welcome to my humble abode, Ma Petite,” he said softly as he walked with her.

His humble abode. Ma Petite. He’d called her that before when they’d first met. It was sandwiched between an insult and the meaning of it was lost in what she’d construed as mockery. But she’d spent every terrifying second during that nightmare knowing just how stupid she’d been, down to the depths of her hurting bones.

Things filled her vision as he walked with her and a row of family pictures on a mantle gave her a shot of hope.

“I’m going to lay you down,” he said softly, lowering her to what felt like a bed.

Try as she might, she couldn’t unlatch her arms from around his neck or stop the sudden sobs.

“Okay, okay,” he whispered, lowering so she could hold on to him. “You don’t have to let go.” He cooed soft shhhhh’s, over and over until her sobs finally subsided.

Nightmare fragments flashed in her mind, bringing a wave of panic. “I need to call my dad,” she mumbled, shakily, holding tighter to his neck. “H-he’ll worry.”

“Okay, okay, please,” he said. “Let me make sure I don’t need to take you to the hospital.”

She wondered how he’d figure that out, finally letting go of him. She watched him turn and pull a chair over, placing it next to the bed. He sat, seeming to study her face with an angry look. “Mon Dieu, Ma Petite,” he said, looking into her eyes now. “Who did this to you? Do you know?”

Tears flooded her vision, and she shook her head.

“Okay, okay,” he cooed, making the tears come faster. “You don’t need to talk. Just nod your head while I ask you questions, can you do that for me?”

She nodded, her jaw back to banging together again.

“Please forgive me for having to ask these questions,” he said softly. “But…were you sexually assaulted?”

She closed her eyes at the regret in his gaze, pain shooting through the left, swollen one. They’d hurt her in every way but that one. She shook her head, not wanting him to take her anywhere, especially a public place. He sighed out a long string of words in French and for some reason it helped him seem safer to her. The relief that gave her brought on a wave of tears.

“Shhhh, okay, ma-petite catin.” He stroked her forehead, and the sudden boom of thunder made her jump and latch onto his arm. “It’s just the rain,” he soothed, letting her hold on to him. “Nothing will hurt you here, I promise you this. What is your name Ma Petite? I never did get it.”

She swallowed, wondering over the regret in his voice. “B-beth. Elizabeth Sweetling.”

“I should call you Beth?”

She nodded, her whole body shaking now.

“Are you cold?”

She nodded again and held his arm tighter when he stood.

“I’m just getting you another blanket, I won’t leave you.”

He waited as she fought with herself to release him.

“That’s a brave girl,” he said when she managed it, stroking her forehead again. He turned and she watched him disappear around the wall. She listened to him in another part of the room, talking about the rain and his fishing traps and how he’d found her, the miracle of it.

So, he lived out there and fished? He returned with a blanket and shook it out before laying it carefully on her then pressing it down around her shaking body.

“I’m going to make you some tea that will help with the pain, would you like that?”

“Yes,” she croaked when the pain of nodding became too much.

“Does it hurt a lot, Ma Petite?”

He wiped the tears that ran again, shhhhing her as she mumbled another yes.

“Do you think anything is broken? I need to know some of these things,” he said, full of tender regret.

“I don’t…I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe yes,” she strained, fighting back a sob and losing the battle.

“Ma Petite,” he cooed more tenderly than ever, stroking her forehead. “Let me fix you the tea, it will help you.”

She managed a nod. “Then I can call my dad?”

“I’m sorry to say that my phone reception here is no good. I can take the boat not far from here if you insist, and call him for you?”

She shook her head, not wanting him to leave. “Tomorrow I can go with you?”

“We can do this if you are able?”

She nodded and he went back to she guessed the kitchen area on the other side of the half wall. Another crack of thunder shook the little room, making her tremble more. She didn’t want to close her eyes and see the nightmare. She couldn’t take it.

The smell of food soon filled the air and her stomach said she hadn’t eaten in days. She needed to use whatever she had to keep her out of the nightmare flashbacks. The only life preserver was him. Sahvrin Bishop. What a unique name and man he was turning out to be. Nothing like the horribly mannered prick she’d first met.

He appeared with a cup and sat on the chair with it. “I’m going to help you sit up just a little so you can drink this, can you do that for me?” he asked.

She nodded and Sahvahrin worked his arm under her shoulders and lifted her just enough to get the cup to her mouth. The smell of mint reached her nose. And lemon.

“Drink as much as you can for me, Ma Petite. The more, the better, it will help you. Forgive the taste.”

The first careful swallow brought the memory of being strangled. Whimpers fought to overtake her, and she focused on getting the liquid down before they could.

“So good, Ma Petite,” he praised when she drank it all. He carefully lay her back down and set the cup on the floor. “This will help the pain and help you sleep.” He was back to stroking her forehead and the feeling was suddenly the best thing in all the world.

“Sah…varin?”

“Yes?”

The words got trapped in her throat and she forced them out. “Thank you.”

He spoke another soft string of French and she fought to open her eyes, managing slits.

“What did that mean?”

“I said no need to thank me, but it was a miracle that I found you.”

She nodded as he pressed the covers gently around her. “Don’t…leave.”

He took her hand in his and she held it as tight as she could. “I won’t leave. I’ll be right here.”

This time when she closed her eyes, she couldn’t open them. Wow…whatever he’d given her was amazing. So amazing. “Don’t leave me,” she managed, then remembered she’d already said that.

His warm fingers moved across her forehead. “I will not leave you, Ma Petite.”

There was regret in his deep voice and she wondered over it. Did he blame himself? She hoped not.

Ma Petite. She repeated it in her head. “What does that mean?”

“What does what mean?”

“Ma Petite.”

“Means my little one.”

Little. And na?ve. And stupid. They all felt synonymous now. She’d proven him right on every turn. “I’m…not that little,” was the only truth remaining and not worth mentioning, but she did.

“To me you are just a little thing,” he said, still stroking her forehead.

“I like your tea,” she murmured. “And…your mom’s quilt is warm. And pretty.”

“How old are you, Ma Petite?”

She wondered why there would be pain in his soft voice with that question.

“I’m…I’m twenty-four.”

“No no noooo, surely you cannot be, Ma Petite,” he said, sounding doubtful.

She fought to open her eyes, failing. “I know…I look way older.”

His low chuckle helped lift her heavy eyelids but the smile on his lips and light in his dark brown eyes made her forget what he’d said. Gosh, he was…“so handsome.”

She tried to be embarrassed at hearing the slurred thought out loud, but then his smile had grown and told her it was okay. She was so high, she realized. What was in that tea?

“Try to sleep, Ma Petite. I will stay awake while you do.”

She couldn’t even nod as a warm darkness wrapped her mind.

****

Sahvrin needed to get his head together. Twenty-four. The same age as his baby sister. He’d thought she couldn’t be more than seventeen, not a day over eighteen. How exactly did she end up in that situation? How did she escape? He couldn’t ask why they hadn’t raped her, but it was surely something he wondered. There was nothing he could do but wait for her to wake up and answer those questions and now that he knew she was more than of age, it would make that part easier.

When she was sound asleep, he got in his boat and rode to the reception spot about a mile out, the clean night air doing not a damn thing for his blood lust. Twenty-fucking four. Was she alone? Were there more girls with her?

At location, he opened the group chat with his brothers and Pah-Pah and typed. Tonight, I found traffic in the swamp. They dropped something, or something escaped. Keep your ears pricked and send out feelers for anybody looking for missing persons with the name Elizabeth Sweetling. They’ll come looking for this one. Lazure, this could have been our baby sister. I’ll call you and set up a meeting at The Weigh Station. She will stay with me until we figure out what we’re doing.

He hit send and checked for any messages. He spotted one from Juliette and opened it. Hey lil-bro, you coming to the party, right? I have a friend I want you to meet.

“Mon Dieu,” he muttered as he typed. Not if you’re setting me up, no. Did Mah-Mah and Pah-Pah turn this job over to you, petite soeur? Ever since his twelve-year celibacy code had lifted, they’d been busy trying to find him love. But unless love hunted him down and fell right into his lap, he wouldn’t be looking.

He started a new paragraph on his phone, glancing briefly around. Listen. I found bad traffic in the swamp not far from here. Don’t go anywhere alone until we find out who it is. This pit is deadly, do you understand me, petite soeur?

He hit send and waited for a bit for any replies. He recalled the bruises all over her body, remembering she needed clothes. He then remembered the modest black dress he’d first seen her in and her bright smile, followed by her hurt and anger when he’d been a dick.

He opened Lazure’s box this time. She needs clothes. Bring whatever you can from Juliette, they are about the same size. Bring Mah-Mah to check her injuries too. He needed to inspect her closer and needed a woman to do that.

The storm picked up steam and he pocketed his phone, then started the boat. She needed ointments for her wounds. More pain medicine. Food. She needed to eat and rest and that was it.

Several hours later, a fresh fish coubion simmered with every medicinal herb he could find on hand thrown in it. He made another concoction of his tea and set it to steeping. She could use a hot soak but all he had was a shower.

Another round of whimpers reached him, telling she needed more medicine. He went to her side, shhhhing away the demons with a stroke of his finger across her forehead. Merci Dieu it seemed to work every time. In sleep, she was more petite seeming than ever. But definitely not a child and he needed to be careful. The look in her eyes when she’d called him handsome wasn’t the same look women normally had, but one a lovestruck teenager might have with their savior. Only, she wasn’t a teenager, but a traumatized woman prone to vulnerabilities.

He needed to wake her for more tea and see how she was feeling. At some point, she’d need to relieve herself, and Mon Dieu, he was not looking forward to that.

****

The first light of dawn came, and he fixed a cup of his special tea with a bowl of hot food then pulled a small end table next to the bed and sat. He carefully touched her shoulder and called softly, “Ma Petite.” He did that several times, not wanting to startle her. She finally woke with a sharp gasp, and he stroked her forehead, shhhhing her. “It’s Sahvrin, Ma Petite. Are you hungry?”

She whimpered and tried to get up, gasping on pain.

“No, no, no, don’t try to move,” he chided softly.

“I…I need to pee,” she squeaked around trembling breaths. Even in her broken condition, she had enough self-esteem to be embarrassed. That was a good sign, he thought.

“I will help you to the bathroom.”

She shook her head even as she reached for his hand.

“I will get you to the job and you will finish, yes?”

“My clothes,” she said, worried.

“I’m not looking. I have a sister your age, this is how I see you, okay? And I have clothes I will give you to wear after you take care of your emergency.”

She nodded, seeming desperate, so he eased the blanket off and lifted her, forcing himself not to think about the black and blue all over her body. Mon Dieu, what had they fucking done to her? And why had they, if they had intended on selling her?

“I will set you down in the bathroom and you will fight the rest of the way, yes? You are a fighter, right ma-petite?”

He caught her nod as he stood her carefully in the small bathroom. “The towel bar is sturdy, you can hold on to it.”

“Yes, hurry.”

He exited the bathroom and shut the door releasing a breath.

“Go,” she pled to him in distress.

“I’ll go out of the house,” he called back, hurrying out. “Call me if you need.”

He pulled his phone out and checked for messages again. Sometimes when the weather was clear, he got a signal. But likely they’d not see messages for another few hours. All drunk no doubt. Sahvahrin remembered the clothes and hurried back inside, going through his drawers. Flannel pants and a t-shirt would have to do for her.

“Ma Petite, I have some clothes here for you,” he called loudly. “I will put them on the floor by the bathroom, yes?”

“Thank you,” she answered after a few seconds, her words frail sounding. “I want…to take…Please.”

He went closer to the door. “Say it again?”

“A shower, please.”

Mon Dieu, already? “Can you manage?”

“I think so,” he barely heard her say.

“I will put the clothes on the floor here.”

“Thank you.”

He stood, tense with the idea of her attempting such a thing so early. “I have food and medicine for you when you’re done. Please take your time and don’t hurt yourself. Call me if you are in trouble?”

He caught her “Yes,” and he nodded, setting the clothes down. “Everything is there that you need. The towels, if you can’t reach, call me.”

He hurried to the boat and made his way out of the cove, speeding to his reception spot. 15 new messages.

He opened the main screen. Two from his sister, one from the group and several from each brother and his Pah-Pah.

He started with his sisters, worried about her. What kind of “foreign” snake pit are we talking about? I won’t bring my friend if you promise to come in person and tell me everything. I miss your hairy face.

Sahvahrin absently stroked his short beard, opening the group message next.

Lazure: We’ll talk when you come today. Keep details sparse.

He went to each brother’s box, finding much of the same. Questions about specifics and warnings to be careful, each ending with them seeing him later that day. And how was he supposed to leave her? Should he bring her?

No. He couldn’t. They’d have to just meet near his place.

He decided to give the message to his father. I can’t make it. Babysitting petite snake bait and can’t leave it alone. Let’s meet at the Bayou Boudin dock by my lil shack. Tell my brothers, I need to get back. I’m at reception point. Set the time and I will be there.

His phone rang shortly after he sent the message.

He answered it. “Lazure.”

“Sahvrin, what’s happened?”

“I was checking traps when I found her.”

“Is this a child?”

“A girl. A young woman,” he corrected. “Twenty-four. They hurt her bad. But no sexual assault for some reason. “And…” He held his jaw shut for a few seconds, his rage burning.

“What?”

“I met her a couple of days ago, the same day we left the meeting at the Roulettes. She asked for help, and I was a fucking prick, that’s what she called me, and she was right. I didn’t…” He realized he was about to make the same stupid excuses he’d been making on repeat. “I let this happen. She was na?ve, I saw this, and I let her go into the devil’s lair.”

“What could you have done?”

“Chaperone her, I don’t know, something besides be a cocksucker. I’m responsible for my actions and they were not honorable, Lazure.”

He was silent for a few seconds before sighing. “You are responsible for your words and actions but beyond that we don’t know, we just don’t know. We will find who did this. This can’t happen again in our land.”

“Agreed.”

“Are we sure it’s what we think?”

He shook his head, looking around. “I need to ask more questions. She’s taking a shower and I don’t know how with how beat up she is. This says something about her, yes?”

“Qui,” he said quietly before sighing a “Mon Dieu, Sahvrin. When will you know how this happened and what exactly happened?”

A familiar rage tightened Sahvrin ’s gut at hearing the cold hardness in his Pah-pah’s voice. Life had settled down a lot since the war against the swamp demons fifteen years before. A lifetime ago and yet like yesterday. “I will find out in the next hour.”

“Call me when you know, and we will meet after at The Weigh Station. I think we need to gather The Horde.”