Beau (Bayou Brotherhood Protectors #4)

CHAPTER 1

Beau Boyette pulled into the parking lot at the Gautreaux Chateau on the bayou west of New Orleans, Louisiana. Dressed in a Robin Hood costume, complete with a green coat, a quiver of arrows, a thick belt and the signature green hat, he felt ridiculous, mostly because of the goddamn green tights. He prayed his Brotherhood Protectors teammates hadn’t seen him leaving the boarding house in Bayou Mambaloa. He’d never hear the end of it.

He dug into his jacket pocket for his cell phone. Having put off this call as long as he could, he needed to get it over with and clear his slate for however long his mission might take.

“Beau, cher,” his mother, Josephine Boyette, answered on the first ring in her heavy Cajun accent. “Comment ?a se plume?” Translated: How’s it plucking?

Beau grinned at his mother’s favorite Cajun saying. “Bien, Maman.”

“Why we have non seen you in da past week? You’re gonna be here for da Sunday dinner, oui? It will be da first time in eight years since all ten of mes enfants have been together.”

“Maman, I can’t make the family dinner on Sunday. I got my first assignment and have to work.”

“You no can put it off ‘til Monday?” she asked.

“No, Maman,” he said. “I work 24/7.”

“You no in l’armee anymore. You come to da dinner.”

“No, Maman. I’m not in the Army anymore, but I work providing protection for people,” he explained for the fifth time since hiring on with the Brotherhood Protectors.

“Surely, you get a day off,” his mother said. “Do I need to talk to da boss?”

God forbid his mother should talk to his lead over the Bayou Brotherhood Protectors. He’d never hear the end of the ribbing he’d get from Remy Montagne or the rest of the team. Or she could make it worse and take her complaint to Hank Patterson, the man who’d started the original Brotherhood Protectors organization.

Beau sighed. “Maman, you don’t need to talk to my boss. I signed on to dis job, knowing it could mean working 24/7 to protect our clients. I’m just calling to let you know I won’t be at da family dinner. I’ll try to make it another time.”

“But—” his mother started.

“Je suis désolé,” I’m sorry, Beau said. “I have to go. My job starts tonight. Je t’aime. Au revoir.” He ended the call before his mother could get all wound up and talk for another thirty minutes.

Beau didn’t have time to talk. He’d been hired by Senator Marcus Anderson to protect his daughter Aurelie.

Miss Anderson had received a number of death threats over the past week since the senator had announced his reelection campaign. At the same time, Aurelie had stepped in to lead her father’s philanthropic effort to preserve the bayou.

Since the senator would be campaigning across the state, he wouldn’t have time to be with his daughter to guarantee her safety.

That would be Beau’s responsibility.

The senator didn’t want his daughter to know he’d hired a bodyguard. At least, not yet. He’d warned Beau that his daughter could be headstrong and extremely stubborn, a trait she’d inherited from her father.

Great. Beau wasn’t thrilled with the idea of babysitting a spoiled little rich girl with a rebellious streak. He’d have to be on his toes at all times to make certain she didn’t ghost him and land herself in trouble with no one around to help.

What she probably needed was a good old-fashioned spanking to get her attention. He’d almost asked the senator if that was a possibility but had thought better of it.

This was his first assignment with the Brotherhood Protectors. He wanted it to be a success and good advertisement for future gigs. Word of mouth was the best kind of marketing in the security business.

He pulled on the green cloth mask he’d acquired with the costume, thinking it appropriate for this undercover bodyguard job.

The event at the Gautreaux Chateau was a masquerade ball to raise money for the senator’s reelection campaign. Only the very wealthy had purchased tickets at ten thousand dollars each.

Beau wouldn’t be going to the event if the Senator hadn’t given him a free ticket. He’d have been standing guard at the door or pacing the perimeter.

Ten-thousand-dollar tickets?

No way.

He had the money, but he had other plans for his savings—a place of his own with a house and five to ten acres of good land where he could raise a garden, a cow or two, and chickens. If it was on the bayou...even better. He’d always wanted a boat dock and access to fishing whenever he had a spare moment.

His mother had offered to give each of her children ten acres out of the one hundred and twenty acres that had been in their family for over two hundred years. So far, only two of her ten children had taken her up on that offer.

As much as Beau loved his mother, he couldn’t see living that close. As it was, being in the same parish was almost too close. He was always running into those of his siblings who hadn’t left Bayou Mambaloa to find employment in the bigger cities, like New Orleans or Baton Rouge.

No. He wanted to purchase his own property, preferably on the other side of the parish, with a little distance between them to discourage his mother from “dropping in” whenever she felt like it.

Oh, he loved his mother, but he also loved his privacy. As a widow with no husband to occupy her time, Josephine Boyette took her mothering to the extreme, trying to solve every problem for every one of her children instead of letting them figure it out on their own.

He’d limited his time with her since he’d been back, afraid she’d dig into his problems and find out he wasn’t as okay as he’d led her to believe.

He’d been working through his issues with the therapist the VA hospital had assigned since he’d returned from his last mission with the Army Rangers.

As the sole survivor of a helicopter crash, he’d been so messed up he hadn’t wanted to get out of bed for a month. That and the broken leg hadn’t helped.

But that was in the past. He’d been through hundreds of hours of physical and mental therapy and was more than ready to get on with his life.

His teammates who’d perished in the crash couldn’t get on with their lives, and they’d never know the wonderful trouble of being psychoanalyzed by their mothers.

How many times had he been told he was the lucky one?

And why didn’t he feel lucky?

A weight threatened to settle on his chest, pushing out the air he’d been breathing.

Now was not the time to backslide into the black funk he’d clawed his way out of over six months ago.

Beau pushed open the door of his truck and dropped to the ground. He squared his shoulders and marched toward the entrance, careful not to limp on the leg that would never be the same.

He was determined to do his best to help the senator, make a good impression for the Bayou Brotherhood Protectors and keep Miss Anderson safe.

A man in a black suit stood guard at the door, checking IDs and tickets of each guest as they arrived.

Out of his element at such a formal function, Beau adjusted his Robin Hood hat. When the guard asked for his ID, he presented his military ID, his ten-thousand-dollar ticket and raised his mask briefly.

Beau entered the 18th-century mansion and was immediately struck by the opulent marble flooring and the double sweeping staircases on each side of the foyer, rising to the second level. A man dressed in a livery suit held out his hands. “May I take your…jacket…or quiver of arrows?”

“No, thank you,” Beau said. “But perhaps you can tell me where I can find Senator Anderson.”

“The senator is in the ballroom receiving line,” the servant said and waved an arm toward the sound of music coming from a wide-open doorway.

Beau crossed the marble floor and entered a large ballroom crowded with people in a variety of costumes.

A man wearing an Abraham Lincoln outfit stood just inside the doorway, greeting guests as they entered.

Abraham Lincoln held out his hand. “Welcome to the Harlequins and Heartthrobs Masquerade Ball and reelection campaign fundraiser. Thank you for your support.”

Beau gripped the man’s hand. “I assume you’re Senator Anderson,” he said.

The man dressed as Abraham Lincoln smiled. “Your assumption is correct. And to whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?”

Beau dipped his head. “I’m Beau Boyette, an agent of the Brotherhood Protectors. I was sent to help you with your situation.”

The senator’s smile faded, and his grip tightened on Beau’s hand. “Thank you for coming so quickly.”

Beau’s glance swept the ballroom. “Is the object of your concern here tonight?”

The man with the Abraham Lincoln top hat and black jacket gave a brief nod. “She is.”

Beau looked around the ballroom again. “Will you introduce me to her to get the ball rolling?”

Abraham shook his head. “My daughter is a strong-minded, independent woman. She won’t be happy that I’ve hired somebody to protect her. For now, I’d rather let you acquaint yourself with her. If that doesn’t work, I’ll introduce you as a son of a friend of mine.”

Beau nodded. “As you wish. At the very least, could you point her out to me?”

The senator glanced around the ballroom. “She’s dressed as Amelia Earhart, in trousers, a dusty-brown jacket and goggles instead of a mask.” The man shook his head. “I couldn’t get her to wear a dress to save my life.”

Beau’s lips twitched. “She sounds like she has a mind of her own.”

The senator chuckled. “That she does.” He lifted his chin, indicating direction. “That’s her dancing with my executive assistant. At least the ballroom dance lessons that I paid for weren’t wasted. They would’ve looked better if she were wearing the antebellum dress I had commissioned for her.”

The woman in the goggles waltzed past Beau in the arms of a man dressed as a swashbuckling pirate.

Now, that was a costume. Beau wished he’d had more time to find a better disguise than the Robin Hood one, which was the last decent choice at the costume shop in New Orleans.

He hadn’t had time to go to a different costume shop, given that he’d only been notified of this mission around noon that day. His only other choice was a hairy Sasquatch costume.

Although, he was now beginning to wish he’d gone with Sasquatch. He felt very exposed wearing green tights, even though the jacket was long enough, just barely covering his ass.

“Good luck keeping up with her,” the senator said.

Beau’s lips pressed together as he watched the woman laugh out loud at something the pirate said. “I’ll take it from here,” he said, leaving the senator at his post receiving guests.

Beau wandered into the ballroom, his gaze on Amelia Earhart, a.k.a. Aurelie Anderson. He stopped at a table serving lemonade and what appeared to be mint juleps. He chose a lemonade and stood back, watching Miss Anderson dance around the room with the pirate. As he sipped the lemonade, he thought through the different scenarios where he could introduce himself.

The woman appeared relaxed, dancing and talking with the senator’s executive assistant. Her movements appeared effortless, a testimony to the dance lessons her father had paid for her to take. An orchestra provided the music, playing various reimagined modern songs in an 18th-century style.

As the song came to a close, Miss Anderson and her partner slowed to stop. The pirate gave her a sweeping bow and then waved a hand toward the open bar.

Aurelie shook her head and said something Beau couldn’t hear. Then, she walked away from the executive assistant. She ducked through a doorway and disappeared.

Beau set his glass down on an empty tray and hurried to follow. He left through the same door that she had and walked quickly down a hallway. He spotted her pushing through another doorway further down the corridor.

Though he hurried to catch up, he came to an abrupt halt in front of the swinging door with a placard indicating that the room inside was the ladies’ restroom.

Since he couldn’t follow her through that door, he walked further down the hall and stood in front of the men’s room, waiting for Miss Anderson to emerge.

A few minutes later, the senator’s daughter emerged from the bathroom.

When she looked in his direction, Beau pretended to be coming out of the men’s room. She only gave him a cursory glance before she headed back to the ballroom, her shoulders back, head held high as if she were marching into battle.

Beau followed and found her standing against the wall, her foot tapping to the beat of the music. Beau crossed to the lemonade table, snagged two glasses of lemonade and walked back to where Miss Anderson stood half-hidden by a potted plant. He stopped next to her without looking at her, his gaze on the people dancing across the floor. Eventually, he held up the glass to her. “You look like you need this more than I do.”

She took the glass from him and downed most of it in one long swallow. “Thanks, I did need that.”

He chuckled. “Do you always dance so rigorously?”

She lifted her chin. “A wise person once told me to put your heart and soul into everything you do, or don’t bother doing it at all.”

“Have you ever bothered to do the nothing at all?” He quirked his lips upward on the corners in challenge.

“A number of times,” the Anderson woman said.

“Now that you’ve consumed an entire glass of lemonade given to you by a complete stranger, did you stop to think I might have spiked that lemonade with a date rape drug?” he asked.

Her brow wrinkled. “You don’t look like the type of man who would spike a girl’s drink.”

He looked down at his costume. “Is it the costume?”

She laughed. “Partly. And the fact that you wouldn’t have given me the lemonade spiked with any drug with my father watching like a hawk.” She lifted her chin toward the man dressed as Abraham Lincoln. “He’s been watching me all evening. He even enlisted his executive assistant to have a pity-dance with me to keep me busy.”

“I’m sure your father’s assistant didn’t consider dancing with you in any way pitiful.” Beau tipped his head toward the couples dancing to the music. “You held your own on the dance floor.”

Aurelie met his gaze. “You were watching that long?”

“I was,” he admitted.

“That’s kind of creepy,” she commented. “I might reconsider my earlier opinion about you.” She touched a hand to her throat. “Perhaps you did spike my lemonade.”

Beau’s lips twitched. “I didn’t, but I can understand President Lincoln’s concern for his daughter,” he said. “Considering the fact he was assassinated, he has good reason to be a little paranoid.”

Her lips curved into a smile, transforming her face and making it softer and more approachable. “You have a point.” She held out her hand. “I’m Amelia Earhart. Nice to meet you.”

So, she was going to play it that way. “Robin Hood,” he said as he took her hand.

Her grip was firm, not limp like many of the women with whom Beau had shaken hands.

“Robin Hood, you say?” Aurelie cocked an eyebrow in challenge. “I had pegged you as Peter Pan.”

He released her hand and pressed his over his heart. “You wound me, madame.” Beau shook his head. “I would think my quiver of arrows and the bow would have given it away.”

She chuckled. “They are quite impressive. How about those tights? Should I assume anything about your sexuality?”

His hand remaining on his chest, Beau shook his head. “Again, you wound me, madame. I assure you I’m more attracted to Maid Marian than Friar Tuck.”

Miss Anderson chuckled. “For what it’s worth, the tights look good on you.”

He dipped his head. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“As you should.” She glanced around the room. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m working.”

“Working?” he lifted both eyebrows.

Still looking around the room, she answered, “This is a fundraiser. My job is to make sure the guests are happy.”

Beau nodded. “And happy guests mean more contributions to President Lincoln’s reelection campaign, right?”

Her brow wrinkled. “Of course.”

“Then, perhaps, you might consider entertaining this guest with a dance?”

Her lips twisted. “Sir, I believe you’re quite capable of entertaining yourself.” She started to walk away.

“Then perhaps, you might consider taking pity on a man in tights who is sure to be avoided by every available female in the ballroom and dance with me. I would consider it an honor,” he performed a deep bow, “and a heroic way to help me salvage my eligible bachelor status.”

She shook her head. “More likely salvaging your ego. Although, I doubt you’ll lack a partner. Many of the matrons will be vying for you to join them in a dance.”

“Only if I first prove I can dance.”

Aurelie canted her head to one side, her gaze raking over him. “True. Not many men can dance. Or, truthfully, like to dance.”

“I can and do like to dance. My mother made certain all her boys could represent the family properly on the dance floor.”

“Forced to take lessons?” She shook her head. “Me, too.”

“More like forced to learn.” Beau hadn’t always appreciated having to learn to dance with his mother and sisters as his partners. Not until he’d grown older and interested in girls had he understood the value. The ladies usually loved to dance, and most of his male friends didn’t or wouldn’t. “My mother was a very good teacher. She and my father loved to dance at festivals and parties.”

She drew in a deep breath and let it out. “In the spirit of showing the other women in attendance that you can and will dance, I suppose I could spare a pity dance with the man in green tights.” She held out her hand. “Come on, Peter Pan. Let’s show them what you’ve got.”

“Robin Hood,” he corrected as he took her hand and led her out into the middle of the ballroom as the orchestra began a new song.

After the first three notes, Beau recognized the song as “Can’t Help Falling In Love,” made famous by the late crooner Elvis Presley.

“Good grief,” Aurelie murmured.

“It’s a sign,” Beau said as he glided across the floor, super glad his mother had insisted on him learning to waltz.

Aurelie needed little guidance to execute the dance. She usually had to lead when her male partners couldn’t. With Peter Pan, she played a little push-me-pull-me until she finally let him take control. “You say your mother taught you to dance?”

He nodded. “She insisted on us learning to be as fluid and graceful as Fred Astaire.” Beau grinned. “She loved all his movies, especially those when he partnered with Ginger Rogers.”

“Let me guess...” Aurelie said, “she made you watch the movies as well?”

He nodded.

“And your father had no say in the matter?”

“None,” Beau said. “When it came to our education, both in school and on the dance floor, he let her take the lead.”

“A hands-off father?” She snorted softly. “What’s that like?”

“Oh, he wasn’t a hands-off father; he just knew which battles to choose. He taught us other things.”

“Like?” She prompted.

“How to open doors for women, the elderly, and…well, anyone.” He grinned. “He taught all of us about the bayou, to include frog gigging, how to spot alligators, shrimping crabbing, fishing, cleaning and preparing the food we caught. He also taught us about vehicle maintenance like changing oil, tires and spark plugs.”

“Even your sisters?” Aurelie asked.

Beau nodded. “Absolutely. Our mother could do all those things; she just preferred not to. Before all of us kids, she helped him on his fishing boat. Even after we came along, she still loved fishing with my father.”

Aurelie frowned. “How many children did your mother and father have?”

“There are ten of us,” Beau said and waited for the shock on her pretty face. He wasn’t disappointed.

“Ten?” Her feet faltered.

Beau’s arms tightened around her, and he effortlessly swung her out and back into his arms. “That’s right. They had ten children.”

“That’s a lot of mouths to feed,” Aurelie frowned. “Wow.”

He laughed. “My grandparents considered my father an underachiever.”

Her frown deepened. “Why?”

“His brother sired nineteen children. My father didn’t even come close.”

Aurelie’s brow furrowed. “You’re not serious, are you?”

“As serious as the heart attack that claimed my uncle’s life when the youngest set of twins was only five years old,” Beau said, his voice growing soft. He’d been in Iraq when his uncle had passed. His father had done his best to help the family out. Fortunately, his brother had been a shrewd investor and had taken out a sizable life insurance policy when he’d been younger. After selling the family boat-building business, his aunt had managed the investments and the houseful of children like the CEO of a major corporation.

“Youngest set of twins?” the woman in his arms asked.

“That’s right,” he said. “I think there are three of four sets of twins.” Beau twirled her away and back into his arms. “Does that bother you that I’m from a family of many children?”

“No, why should it?”

“Do you even like children?” he asked.

She blinked. “Of course I do.”

“Do you have any siblings?” he asked, though he already knew the answer.

Aurelie shook her head. “I always wished I had a brother or sister. You’re fortunate to have some.”

His lips twisted into a wry grin. “Others might not think so. There’s never a moment’s peace when we’re all together.”

“I hope to have children someday. Not just one child. I don’t wish that on anyone. It can be very lonely.”

“And quiet,” Beau said with a sigh.

She laughed. “I take it you value silence.”

“I do,” he said. “But I love my brothers and sisters very much, even though they can drive me crazy at times.”

The five-string quartet transitioned into another song, not a waltz, but one that allowed Beau to slow to a rocking motion. His arm circled the small of her back, and he pulled her closer. “Speaking of silence...” He rested his cheek against her temple. “You smell good.”

“What does that have to do with silence?” she asked, her body stiff.

“Nothing. But if we don’t talk, we can almost imagine Elvis singing this one.”

She moved in rhythm with him to the orchestra’s version of “Love Me Tender.”

Together, they fit perfectly, a fact that gave Beau pause. The more he held her, the more he wanted to.

Dangerous...dangerous thoughts.

Yet, he didn’t relinquish his hold.

Slowly, her body melted into his. As the song came to its beautiful end, Beau dipped Aurelie low in his arms and kissed her.

As their lips met, the music ended.

She opened to him, letting him in for a brief and delicious taste. For a moment, their tongues touched and caressed. For a moment, he forgot where he was and that he was on a mission to protect this woman, not make out with her in front of her father and the rich and influential people there to contribute to the senator’s campaign.

When he brought her back up, he stared into her goggles, wishing he could see her eyes. He wondered what color they were, what they would tell him and if she’d enjoyed the dance and the kiss as much as he had.

He might not be able to see her eyes, but he could feel the change in her body where his hands still rested against her back.

Aurelie stiffened. “Excuse me.”

She stepped backward, spun on her booted heels and darted for the hallway where the bathrooms were located.

Beau started to follow.

“What the hell was that?” a voice said behind him in a tight whisper.

He turned to face an angry Abe Lincoln.

“I introduced myself to your daughter.” He couldn’t have come up with a dumber response if he’d tried. But once it left his lips, he couldn’t take it back.

“And that gives you leave to grope her on the dance floor? What kind of operation is this Brotherhood Protectors?”

Fuck.

He’d blown it with the man who’d hired him. What had he been thinking, kissing the man’s daughter?

“My apologies, sir. It must have been the song.” Beau glanced toward the hallway where Aurelie had gone. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to follow her and make sure she’s all right.”

“Damn right, you do. And while you’re at it, try not to molest her.” As he turned away, he muttered, “What’s wrong with the young people today?”

Beau didn’t try to answer the man. He strode out of the ballroom into the corridor. This time, he didn’t see Aurelie walking into the bathroom. She was nowhere to be seen, as if she’d disappeared.

With the kiss still fresh on his lips, he ran to the ladies’ room door and knocked on the contoured panel.

An older woman dressed as the Queen of Hearts pulled the door open.

Beau frowned. “Did you see Miss...” he thought better of asking if the woman had seen Miss Anderson and amended, “Amelia Earhart?”

The woman shook her head. “I was the only person in here.” She stepped out of the bathroom, her gaze sweeping him from top to toe. “Let me know if you can’t find her. I’m available all night.” With a wink, she walked away.

Holy shit.

His first day on the job, and he’d already lost the client.