Bayou Bishops Box Set: Books 1-12

CHAPTER 6

Patches opened his eyes, realizing he’d dozed off at his desk. A noise turned his head and he realized it”d woken him. He listened for a span.

There it was again. Was somebody moving furniture?

He stood, ready to make one final round and call it a night. He looked at his phone, making sure Tegan from Texas hadn’t texted with more questions. At the bottom of the stairs leading to the first floor, he paused. The odd sound came again, and he backtracked two steps, listening. He looked up at what sounded like high winds outside and hurried up the stairs.

Opening the door to darkness and high-pitched howling, he made his way to the main entrance.

Panic hit him at wondering if the hurricane predictions had changed.

He ran to the front door, opening it to deafening screeches. He made his way down the steps and looked up.

Holy shit. Was that…bats?

He turned in circles, watching the dark fury as his mind caught up to the alarm screaming in his brain. Oh fuck, fuck, Nitro.

Patches shot up the steps then hit a full sprint toward the basement. The stairwell door banged open and he flew down the steps, bouncing off walls as he ran to Nitro’s room.

He fought to stifle his breaths at Nitro’s door, listening. Oh Jesus. They were having sex. He remembered what happened last time he did that. Or he could just be having sex with his wife.

He rapped his knuckles on the door, his heart thumping. No answer.

“Making my rounds,” he called. “Was just seeing if you guys need anything before I shut everything down for the night.”

“We’re fine,” Nitro answered.

His voice sounded rough, angry. Patches closed his eyes briefly and called, “Felix, you need anything?”

“She’s fine,” Nitro said, his tone anything but.

“I need to check her bite. Won’t take me but a second.”

“Well, you can’t come in right now. I’m fucking her.”

Motherfuck. His sadistic tone brought his pulse to a jackhammer. “Felix, you okay?”

He heard words, but couldn’t make them out.

“I didn’t quite hear you.”

“She said she’s fine!” Nitro barked.

Again, she said something, and Patches realized why he couldn’t understand her. She was fucking gagged, he was sure.

“Alright,” he called. “Just checking. Night.”

Patches raced back to his office and dialed Lesion, glancing down the hall behind him.

“Patches?”

“I think Nitro is hurting Felix,” he whispered. “He has her in his room and I just went check on them. And there’s a million bats flying above the hospital. What do I fucking do?”

“God, no,” he muttered, his breaths turning shallow. “I’m coming.”

“What’s wrong?” a tiny voice said in the background.

“Shhh, go back to sleep, Angel. It’s just Patches. I need to run him some medicine.”

“I need to do something right now if he’s fucking hurting her, tell me what to do.” He hurried to the hall, eying the darkness leading to his room.

“You have any tranquilizers?”

“No, but I have something that’ll knock him on his ass if I can get it in him.”

“Do not get near him.”

“He’s fucking hurting her,” he grit, sure of that. “She sounds gagged, like she couldn’t talk.”

“He won’t hurt her.”

“Are you sure?” he shrilled, not at all convinced of that.

“I am. Stay near but do not agitate him. He will kill you.”

Patches shoved his phone in his back pocket, eyes returning to that dark hallway. He glanced around the room, spotting his baseball bat on the shelf. He grabbed it and crept to the doorway, sticking his head around the corner leading to the medicine cabinet while the screeches outside grew deafening.

He made it to the cabinet in the next room, constantly looking into the darkness behind him. Fuck, he couldn’t see shit. And turning on the light felt like a bad idea. He opened the cabinet, staring at the row of containers, finally recognizing the one that held the Propofol. He grabbed two pre-filled syringes and shoved them in his back pocket.

Grabbing the bat in both hands, he raised it to head level and made his way back to Nitro’s room. He”d have to go in. That”s all. He couldn”t wait for Lesion if he was hurting her. He”d want that. His rage over what he’d done to Felix was fresh in his head still. All that would be on him if he let him hurt her.

He will kill you.

Andthere was that.

Listening at the door, he was filled with a sick dread at the rough sexual noises. God damn. He shook his head, gripping the bat tighter in one hand as he slowly turned the doorknob. He barely pushed. Didn’t budge.

He’d blocked it because there were no locks on the inside of these doors. Patches knocked again, his breaths shallow. “Nitro.”

“Do you have a death wish?” Nitro seethed around grunts and bed squeaks. He caught the sound of Felix and his rage lit up at the fear and pain in her moans.

He needed to fucking draw him out. “Open the door,” he ordered. “Or I’m busting it fucking down.”

“Oh, I fucking dare you,” he said around faster bed squeaks and lustier grunts.

“I’m coming in,” he warned, grabbing the bat in both hands. He used it like a sledge- hammer, slamming it with all his might at the center of the door.

It flew open and Nitro was on him in a flash, plowing him into the wall. His head slammed the floor and pain split his shoulder as he bit the fuck out of him, bringing a roar of agony as he fought to lock his legs and arms around him.

Nitro jerked his head and ripped the flesh from his body, putting his face just before his with a roar so loud his body shook.

Blood covered his face and the idea it wasn’t just his loaded him with more adrenalin. He shoved against the wall of fury on him, roaring back at him before his throat came under the iron grip of his hands. Mother fuck!

Patches thrashed beneath him, fighting to get his hands between his wrists when Felix screamed “Niiiitrooooo!”

Patches connected a foot with the wall and inched enough to get leverage, breaking his death grip on his throat. Lungs burning, he was suddenly airborne, then torpedoed through the air. His back hit a wall, blasting his wind right out of him. He hit the floor and fought to blink away the black dots from his vision as Felix yanked on Nitro”s arm.

He spun and grabbed her face in one hand, filling Patches with terror. Then he kissed her and pushed her aside, heading his way with murder in cold blood on his face.

Patches searched his body, his hand encountering the back pocket with the syringe right as Nitro lifted him like a rag-doll. He struggled to get the cap off as he hit the floor again. And again. And fucking again.

Felix screamed and fought her way between them, covering Patches body. Nitro pulled her off and returned to pummeling his chest with hammer fists as Felix clawed at his face and eyes, trying to stop him.

Patches didn’t know when he had, but as he blinked back the dark curtain coming for his mind, he stared at the syringe in his psycho brother”s neck.

Nitro reached up and yanked it out, releasing a blood curdling roar at him. He swayed on his feet and dropped to his knees then fell like a tower to the floor.

Patches struggled to move. Fuck, he’d banged him up good. “Felix,” he groaned, needing to get her out of there in case he somehow woke back up.

Lesion was suddenly crouched next to him. “Holy God,” he muttered. “Felix, can you walk?”

“Yes,” she gasped between sobs. “He didn’t hurt me bad.”

Bad? Fuck, Nitro was going to hang himself.

“I’ve been trying to get inside,” Lesion said. “The bats wouldn’t let me. Can you sit up?”

He tugged him upright and Patches grimaced at the wave of pain. Lesion forced something between his lips. “Put it under your tongue. For trauma pain.”

Fuck, he sure had that.

Lesion glanced over his shoulder and hurried to Nitro. “I need to get him restrained before he wakes.”

“I’ll help,” Felix whispered while Patches tried to get a look at her while making his way to his feet. He needed to know what Lesion gave him because already he was getting strength he had no right to have given what Nitro had done.

“I got him,” Patches said, getting behind him. “Go get the restraints ready.”

“More than rope,” Felix whispered. “He chewed out of those.”

Holy fuck.

At the room, he lay Nitro on the floor, looking around. “We can secure him to the bed frame with the rope then I’ll go get chain.”

Once he was secure, he straightened, looking at Felix. “Show me where he hurt you.”

She shook her head and her face crimped up with a sob as she began showing him. God, he was going to be sick. Eight bites.

“He’s going to fucking shoot himself for this,” Patches swore quietly to Lesion.

Felix let out a sob, covering her mouth.

“We won’t let that happen,” Lesion assured her. “Patches, go get the chain while I give her something for pain.”

****

“You think we should bring ice or is this Kool-aid cold enough like it is?” Cat wondered, looking over her shoulder at an edible Ethan in blue jeans and white t-shirt. Cooking their meals so they could just fish and not work.

“Ice won’t hurt.”

“You sure I can’t do any of the cooking?”

“I like cooking for you.”

“I might like cooking for you if you gave me a chance.”

“What if I let you feed me?”

She giggled at the idea. “I’ll take it.”

“Seriously?” he said, maybe happy about it. She was never sure what he was.

“As a heart-attack. No take backs.”

“I guess I can feed you dessert to make it fair.”

“You’re already cooking,” she laughed, remembering to be mature. No more non-stop jokes, incessant teasing, and obnoxiously loud laughing. She learned through Big G that he preferred mature women. Which she had not been. She really never had reason to be, was always her and Jason. Which reminded her. “I talked to Jason and Zack. They seem to be having a good time getting ready for the hurricane,” she said dryly. “Who’s Aunt Cat? Nobody needs her.”

“I need her,” he said lightly, making her heart skitter with hope. She wanted that to be true so much. “Are they hard for him?”

“The hurricanes?” she wondered.

“Yeah. After what happened, I’d imagine it’s rough.”

“He’s good at hiding his true feelings around me and Jason.” She felt like Ethan was a lot like him. The farther down you shoved a thing the better off you were. “I think it’s sweet that you’re fishing for your Hatch,” she said, smiling.

“Well…it’s my job.”

“But it ain’t mandatory,” she countered.

“It is if I want to be a good leader.”

He appeared over her shoulder, and she glanced up at him, her pulse scattering. “What?”

His brows drew together, and he leaned. “What is that smell on you?”

“Why? I used whatever soap there was to find in the bathroom.”

“It’s in the dispenser. The one I showed you?”

“Well, I…forgot how to work it so I found something old fashioned.” She panicked. “It looked like a bar of soap?”

“Was it in a Ziplock bag?”

“Oh my lord, yes, why? What!” she cried at his lowered grin.

“That’s a foot balm.”

“A what? Is that why it didn’t lather?”

“Smells good on you.”

“Well, I thought it smelled good too.”

He stroked her shoulder with his finger, sending goosebumps to chase after him. “Soft. Where else did you use it?”

She gasped and sputtered as heat burned her everywhere. “Where…you normally use soap.”

She watched him lower and press a soft kiss on her skin. “Nice,” he said, then straightened and turned.

She let her breath go, realizing she was shaking. Get a hold of your virgin self, good lord. She still had to survive an all-day fishing trip with him and acting like she wasn’t over the moon about it was hard enough. She was happy to help with work and especially this kind. So, that was a win. And she loved to fish so that was a win-win. And she got to do it with him all day, so make that three wins.

Boy was she winning to-day.

****

Ethan couldn’t stop looking at Cat, glad he was driving the boat to their destination. She sat at the front, reminding him of a shooting star in human form. He found himself awed and…peaceful. He decided right then that she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Smiling with that pure, innocent joy. Over a frog, a bird, a butterfly. Aiming that joy at the sun while feeling the wind on her silky skin. If he wanted, he could reach out and touch this miracle. But there was something special about only watching her. There were no cares. No fears. No shadows waiting around the corner making sure you didn’t hope for such a thing much less have it. It was enough to stand in that overflow. Even if he never tasted it for himself...he could taste it in her.

He slowed the boat at spotting the area he wanted to take her. He smiled at her wide-eyed gasp on him when he entered the canopy of trees. “Ethan Samuel 8-Bit Johnson,” she cried, making him laugh. He refused to tell her his middle name, so she’d been making up her own, always different each time. She even changed his last name which he was more than happy for. There was only one time in all his life that he really liked his last name. Which was an hour before when she’d called herself “Mrs. Ethan Boudreaux.”

“Are you sure you’re not taking me on a honeymoon, pretending to fish?” she teased as he parked next to the dock.

“Reading my mind again, I see,” he said, glad to say the words even if she didn’t know how true they were.

Ever since Eveque had said fucking was the universal language that fixed everything, he’d never stopped thinking of when he might apply that fix. He couldn’t begin to see himself initiating it, but he thought he could finish anything she started. And he was sure he could figure a way to help her start it.

He’d brought a tent. She asked why. In case you want to get out of the heat. Clearly lame in the cool month of October. He finally threw his pride to the wolves and admitted it was his first time taking a woman anywhere for anything like that. She thankfully didn’t take it wrong, and he was reinstated into manhood with his balls intact and a pretty smile on her face. Fuck, he needed to find an algorithm for producing more of those. He’d happily serve up his balls on a platter every day just to be responsible for bringing them. That was an addiction begging to happen.