Bayou Bishops Box Set: Books 1-12

CHAPTER 5

Beth and the women gathered in Mah-Mah’s kitchen over afternoon coffee. “Okay so what if we go ahead and do the testing in phases or batches? We have enough in the qualified section to start. We can batch them into three hundred to start and let the men pick out of that and if there aren’t enough for each of them to pick five, then we go through another batch and add those till they each end up with five. Then we move to the next round?”

“Sounds good to me,” Maggie voted, then Cherie agreed along with Mah-Mah and Tully.

“Remind me what’s in the next round?” Aunt Gracie wondered.

“That’s the standard written test,” Beth said.

“And then the men pick their favorite five for that interview?” Tully asked.

“We pick the highest scores from that, I’d say, then hand them over to the remaining Twelve to select their five from,” Beth said.

Mah-Mah wondered, “What if we let them pick the five out of those ones who qualify for them to move to the next testing round?”

“Okay,” Beth conceded, liking that better. “What do you all think?” She got agreement from all and remembered, “And if they pick the same one, they roll the fate dice, and the loser chooses another.”

“What do yall think of the selections so far?” Maggie asked, scrolling through her phone. “Oh, I like her,” she said, showing the phone to Beth. “She’s so pretty!”

“Oh, my,” Mah-Mah said, sounding shocked. “That’s Gretchen Lejune from Hurricane’s Hatch I believe. Wow, she done grew up into a swamp goddess.”

They all leaned to look, agreeing then Cherie showed her phone. “Look at this one.”

“Ohhhhh,” Tully gasped. “So beautiful! How do you say that name?”

“That’s pronounced Laodicia. They probably call her Dee for short or Lacy,” Mah-Mah said. “Her father Randal Prejean and I go way back. Played in these swamps as kids,” she chuckled smiling.

“Wonder which of the Twelve will pick her,” Tully said.

“I bet all of them!” Maggie laughed.

“Uh, no,” Beth realized. “Because she only picked Nitro.”

A collection of “Ohhhh’s” came with Cherie muttering, “Better not tell Felix.”

“Hmm,” Beth said.

“Uh oh, what are you thinking?” Maggie accuse-whispered.

“Maybe having a little competition might not hurt her.”

“She filled out that application and didn’t even pick Nitro,” Cherie reminded.

“Oh, I know,” Beth assured. “Wonder who else picked Nitro.”

They all got busy and before long the gasps began with some snickers in the mix.

“Nitro is getting allllll the girls,” Cherie cried, astonished.

“Not surprised,” Mah-Mah said. “He’s always been a swamp favorite ever since he used his explosives to create that dam. Him and Hurricane saved a lot of farmland and animals.”

“Plus, he’s a hunk,” Cherie nodded.

“That surely helps,” Tully laughed.

Beth finally reached a total number for Nitro and gasped. “My lord, Nitro’s got plenty to pick from. Two hundred and twenty out of three hundred!” She opened her notebook. “Help me see who has who. Wait, how should we do this? I guess we need to see which ladies selected who and out of those pick options?”

“What if you divide up the list of eligibles between all of us,” Cherie suggested. “And we create columns for the remaining Twelve and put which number they are on the lady’s list?”

“Oh, yes,” Beth nodded. “I like that. So, we’ll each have…”

“Fifty,” Tully shot out. “I’m real good with numbers,” she said, smiling.

“Good,” Beth said. “I happen to suck at them!”

“Same,” Cherie muttered.

“I’m a calculator wizard,” Mah-Mah bragged, getting Gracie’s laugh and admission to the same talent.

“And I’m good with complex calculations but can barely add to save my life,” Maggie threw in, making Beth smile at her gifted sister.

“Sounds like we make a perfect team,” Mah-Mah bragged. “Don’t know about you all, but I’m ready for some chank-a-chank.”

Chank-a-chank? Beth realized that meant Cajun music when the room filled with sounds that resembled chank-a-chank. She had to laugh at the term now.

Thirty minutes passed in no time with foot tapping and snacking on Mah-Mah’s beignets along with two cups of coffee.

“Done,” Cherie announced. “Nitro is in the lead in my batch. He was picked number one thirty of the fifty times.”

The rest of the results were similar, proving Mah-Mah’s theory true. By the time they got it all lined out, Maggie pointed out the pattern. “From most to least, it goes Nitro, to 8-Bit, to Hurricane, to Patches, then Bacon, then Bullets, Shank, and Traps. But they’re all very close to one another after Nitro.”

Tully clapped and agreed with her findings. “She’s right!”

Beth sure hoped they both were, she had no way to check it. “So…how do we let the guys pick?”

The silent response indicated she wasn’t the only one stumped on that.

“Maybe they pick according to this rank we’ve got?” Cherie said. “Nitro picks first, 8-Bit second, and so on?”

“I say we send them each the whole available list and let them pick their favorite five,” Mah-Mah drawled. “I mean that way we’re seeing their tastes and who knows, maybe they’ll each pick different women.”

“That would make our job easy,” Aunt Gracie said, her tone curving with the likelihood it wouldn’t happen.

When everybody seemed in favor, she made it official. “So, we send them each a list of the available women to pick five from and from there, we’ll contact those women and set up the written test,” Beth said, eyeing all of them and getting hesitant nods that made her feel as confident as a featherless peacock.

****

Nitro and Hurricane watched 8-Bit’s screen as twelve Gum Drops landed and stuck to the roof of the devil’s drug warehouse. 8-Bit had a second drone ready to drop twelve more after the initial explosion made way for round two. They wanted to make damn sure everything was destroyed.

“We detonate all of the first ones on my three,” 8-Bit muttered. “Then I’ll drop the next twelve in two-second intervals. I’ll count them as I drop and as I say their number, you detonate.”

“Got it,” Hurricane said while Nitro’s adrenalin kicked in for the show.

“And, three.”

Hurricane hit the button and Nitro watched all twelve blow the entire roof off the hundred-foot warehouse.

“Now for round two.” 8-Bit pressed a button. “That’s one.”

“Detonated,” Hurricane said.

Thirty glorious explosions rocked the area, making Nitro wish he was there to see it.

“Going in with round two.”

Nitro swapped screens to watch the second drone.

“Bomb’s away,” 8-Bit said, beginning the drop for the second twelve bombs.

Hurricane detonated them in the span of thirty seconds, making their declaration of war official against their favorite devils.

“That’s that,” 8-Bit said, heading to Black Bastard. “I’ll drive. Let Eveque know it’s done.”

Nitro let Hurricane in first then climbed in after. “That was loads of fun,” Hurricane muttered, pissed.

He couldn’t help but agree. Nothing matched the rush of real time action. Even though it was real, not being on location wasn’t the same. They got a million volts of adrenalin and nothing to do with it.

“It’s done and we’re headed back,” Nitro said when Eveque answered.

“Everything good?”

“Perfect,” Nitro nodded as 8-Bit turned them around on the lone country road and headed back. “Total destruction. Keep the news on.”

“Will do. You headed here? Your woman is at the main house.”

His body reacted to that one word, mostly the his. “I am. Everything okay?” he asked, wondering over the odd tone.

“We’ll need to figure out how the logistics work with this ball. She signed up. She’s welcome to withdraw, but until you and her are official, you’re in it. And from what I understand, you have lots of prospects if your Bat Brat decides to surprise us again.”

He laughed at the Bat Brat. “She’ll drop out.” He considered the other part of that problem. “I’m picking her as a mate if that’s official enough to release me from the Ball obligation.”

“I don’t know why it wouldn’t.”

His tone reeked of unnerving technical issues of the Mah-Mah kind. But not enough for him to push for details.

“Tell him I sent him footage,” 8-Bit informed.

“Look for footage from 8-Bit.”

“I heard. We’ll talk when you get here.”

Nitro hung up and found Felix’s name. He grinned at the little bat emoji she’d sent him. Bayou Bat Brat. Everything about that was a thousand percent sexual. That couldn’t be right and yet it sure felt it. His mind went to the Bat-tie, wondering again what she had planned with that. He needed to find out so he could make sure she got exactly what she wanted out of it. On my way back, he texted her before locating Seth’s number. He hated texting but with the ears around, he had no choice.

How’d it go?

Hurricane let out a single laugh and showed Nitro his phone.

“What am I looking at?” he wondered at the list of their names and numbers.

“This is how we scored with the women. Looks like you’re in the lead to become Mr. Swamp with 8-Bit hot on your ass.”

It would be the only competition they’d ever dread being most popular in. “You can have all mine,” Nitro said when his phone vibrated.

He opened Felix’s box. Guess you’re still in one piece then?

Yes, unless you count my mind being scattered all over you.

“I just want the right one,” Hurricane said.

“Well,” 8-Bit added, “the more to pick from, the quicker it’ll be.”

He opened Seth’s box. Dude, I hope you’re ready for what’s coming. I never seen anything like it.

Like what? he hurried, before switching to Felix’s box and grinning.

Guess that makes two of us. It was a lot of fun showing Seth around today.

He was torn about what to talk about. You missed me?

….Maybe just a little.

His mouth tugged as he texted, What’s covering your pussy?

“Poor Traps looks like he might have to ensnare him a woman,” Hurricane laughed.

Nitro switched to Seth’s messages. They can dance and sing! In unison! And they sound just like her!

Wow, he typed, opening her box again.

I always wear white panties.

His cock jerked at the color. Because you’re an angel?

…I was. Till I met this explosive hunk. Now I’ll need black panties.

And red, he typed.

I’ve been reading more of the book the Belle Eveque loaned me.

Oh fuck, right. Tell me all about it. He texted Seth. Did she show you her bats?

No! I want to practice on you, she texted.

At least give me an idea of what I’m being forced to endure.

Force…is definitely one of the main components of this exercise.

I definitely like the idea of force. And plan to use it with you.

I’ve been fantasizing about it, she texted.

Fuck, she was killing him. Tell me.

…I want you to…tie my hands behind my back again.

Nitro lowered the phone when his arousal became painful. It buzzed and he looked.

…then you can do it that way.

Everything pulsed in his body as he texted his soon to be wife. What am I doing to you, exactly?

He opened Seth’s box to his paragraph of text.

She said she wanted it to be a surprise.

I have a feeling it’ll be a very huge surprise.

She said she ran into a cougar in the swamp and called her crows.

They came and killed it then ate it!

She said her bats can bite on command but they use their blood or saliva to save stroke patients or something like that. Can you imagine having an army of bats?

Wow, Nitro texted before hurrying back to Felix’s box.

You know what!

I do, he texted. But I want you to tell me.

I don’t know the right words!

Let me help you this once. You want me to fuck you while your hands are bound behind your back.

…Yes.

Say it, he texted.

He smiled at the eyeroll emoji. I want you to fuck me that way. Are you happy?

Immeasurably. Do you want it slow or fast? Soft or hard?

He was about to erupt where he sat as he watched the ellipses dance on the screen.

Can I have…both?

“Fucking yes,” he barely muttered, typing, You can surely have both.

When can I have it?

Bien Dieu. That was a very good and fair question. I can’t do that till we’re married.

Then I pronounce us husband and wife.

His laugh burst out as he texted, Is that a fact?

Yes. Now you may kiss the bride. And fuck her.

You’ve got my cock so fucking hard right now.

Please, Mon Bien Monsieur…marry me tonight. I promise not to tell.

Fuck, that’s right. They were playing their game of secrets. You have to propose to me. In writing.

Will you marry me, she texted almost immediately, making his grin bloom.

I’ll think about it.

His phone rang and he chuckled at seeing it was her. “Qui?” he answered.

“Are you alone?”

“No.”

She let out a sharp breath. “If you have to think about it, then that’s a definite no! From me,” she clarified.

“Is it,” he challenged softly, enjoying her offense.

“Oh, it is. If you don’t know that answer by now, you will never know it.”

He hung up on her and texted. Did you learn this type of submission in your new book? I gave you my answer. If you can’t accept it, then my answer is no.

The bold lie made his pulse pound.

How do you answer me? he texted, reminding her of the rules to their game.

Qui Mon Bien Monsieur.

He texted, That’s my good Petite Rebelle. I think you will like your reward for that.

I’m sorry for disobeying. I understand if you have to punish me.

Fuck, he surely would. I’m glad you do. Because you will be punished.

How long before you get back?

About an hour and thirty. You ready for me, baby? His pulse hammered in his cock as he waited and watched that ellipses. It went on for a while, putting him at the edge of his seat.

You know, when it was just me and my birds, Mah-Mah would tell me that if I neglected my womanhood, I’d forget how to be one. So, I dedicated myself to learning what a woman was and then developed a routine that would ensure I didn’t accidentally unwomanize myself. But really, I was protecting my bird obsession from Mah-Mah and was prepared to do anything it took. I had everything down except for the emotional stuff. I never cried! So, I set out to figure out how to do that. I tried sad stories, sad movies. Even sad songs. But what managed to break my heart and open my tear ducts was classical music. And now there is something else that moves me to tears. Lord, I’m rambling.

All the arousal left Nitro at that. What is it? he texted, already hating himself for the answer he knew was coming.

When you make me orgasm, I need to cry after.

His brows rose at that unexpected answer.

It’s not a sad crying. I don’t know how to explain it. The tears just want to come. I never read anything about such a thing so I hope it’s normal LOL.

Fuck, she was amazing. You’re beautiful, you know that? Everything about you is beautiful. I’d be crying right now if I had tear-ducts.

Hahahahahahahaha

He chuckled, imagining the sound of her big laugh.

You’re just a cold hearted, soulless master?

Yes, he texted. Except with my Petite Rebelle. For her, I would bow to the flames.

I set you on fire???

You do. All day and night.

He laughed at the fire breathing dragon emoji. The sudden need to type his feelings to her had him locked in uncertainty. Not about what they were but how she might take it. He decided he didn’t want to tell her in a text.

I have to go help with the next test phase for The Ball. I asked Belle Eveque if there was a way for me to get out of it and she said I could drop out.

Good, he texted, hoping she didn’t ask about his side.

What about you?

Perfect. What about me? He prepared for what was coming with a deep breath.

When are you dropping out?

As soon as I can.

Wait…you can drop out, right?

Even through text her alarm bit him. The whole thing is all kind of new territory. But I don’t see why I can’t. I did tell Eveque I want out. He’s double checking to make sure it’s fine.

He stared at the screen, ready to call her now. Fuck the listening ears.

He dialed her number and put the phone to his ear.

“Hey,” she answered, her tone soft.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” she assured, while worry crowded the word. “Like you said, it’s all new. I’m sure things will work out. And if it doesn’t, I guess I have only myself to blame for that.”

The tremble in her voice brought every protective instinct he possessed. “You’re not shouldering that alone or taking all the blame. I’ll fix any problem that may arise with all that, trust me.”

“I do,” she said quietly after a moment. “I know you’re a good man. I’ve always known that. I just…forgot to remember that when I got insanely obsessed with jealousy. And if I’m being honest, I’m not cured of it.”

He smiled at hearing it. “Good. I like you jealous.”

“Are you… alone?”

“No.”

“Oh…,” she muttered. “Okay.”

“What’s on your mind Mah Belle Petite Rebelle?”

She answered with wordless breaths before managing, “Well… I just…”

He sensed a smile in her stammer and couldn’t keep back his own grin. “You just thought I’m not ready to tell the world how I feel about you?”

She gasped and laughed. “Well, I thought…we were…”

“We are. But when I feel like you need to know something important, I’ll tell you. There willbe no other woman but you.”

“Oh,” she breathed, her joy and blush coming through in that one word. “Alright, then.”

“You good with that?” he asked, not at all hating the hero-like power humming in him.

“I’m…very good with that.”

“Good. So…what’s for supper,” he asked, aware of Hurricane’s eyes on him now. “Besides you.”

“Daaaaamn,” Hurricane barely muttered, sounding amazed and envious. He should be. She was a swamp miracle. But she was his swamp miracle.

“Well now, I was thinking of a chicken fricassee?”

“I love chicken fricassee,” he murmured, putting obvious weight on the love word.

“And my home-made bread. And steamed veggies from my garden. And we can have fresh squeezed lemonade.”

She went into a fun food-chatter that had him smiling. She clearly liked cooking but even more having somebody to cook for. “Lord, I’ll have you fatter than a calf,” she barely cried after listing off an outrageous amount of food.

“Pretty sure I can handle your fifty-seven course meal.”

Her big laugh tickled his ear and everything else. “Fifty-seven,” she repeated then sucked in a breath. “I can make you my pie.”

“I already have dessert,” he reminded her, getting more of the same laughter with a hint of boiling heat. He decided to let her talk as long as she wanted, which turned out to be till they reached their land dock.

“We’re getting on the swamp dragon in a minute, I better let you go.”

“Already?” she gasped, making him laugh. “Holy swamp crabs, I talked you all the way home!”

He laughed at how funny she found that, desperate to feel her again. “Get ready to leave.”

“I’ve been ready! Not that I’m not having a blast,” she whispered.

“Such a jolie menteuse,” he chuckled.

“I am not,” she said with a low giggle. “Okay, maybe I’m lying a little.”

“Maybe a lot.”

“We can argue when you get here,” she laughed.

“We will. And I’ll win.”

“And I hope you do,” she said lightly.

A sting of fear sent his gaze along the swamp woods as he strapped into his seat on the swamp dragon. “Stay near the house,” he said to her.

“So bossy,” she muttered.

“I mean it,” he said firmer.

“Okay,” she agreed, heeding the change in his tone. “I’ll go inside.”

“Thank you. See you in ten minutes.”