Bayou Bishops Box Set: Books 1-12

CHAPTER 1

“I don’t like the smell of what’s cooking,” Sahvrin said from the round table in the Roulette Club.

His father Lazure leaned back in his chair with those pissed grooved lines on his forehead. “I knew this would come when Romero passed. No disrespect to the dead, but this brother is as bright as a bayou on a cloudy night.” He slid methodical fingers over his mustache while eying Sahvrin then his four brothers. “Our agreement is with Romero, and that’s what we’re here to honor. Nothing else.”

“Don’t want to say it too loud in case Murphy’s law is eavesdropping,” Sahvrin said, “but if the new Roulette prez reneges on our contract, we have the option to fold.” He eyed his four brothers, who nodded, glad to see he wasn’t the only one wanting to cancel the useless pact they’d made with a now dead man. Only reason they agreed to it was out of mutual respect for Romero, not out of necessity. The Roulettes needed the Bishop’s protection in the swamps, but the Bishops sure as fuck didn’t need the protection of the Roulettes on land. Never did.

“That pissed pot’s been dumped,” August said, sliding a finger inside the collar of his white dress shirt. None of them liked wearing official Bayou Bishop attire, but it was that time of year which meant few chances to change out of the vintage black suits and wide-brimmed hats. Official club land meetings and annual festivals, that’s what they were for. September was a busy month with the Crawfish Festival, the annual Bayou Bishops air boat races, and Alligator Wrangling Competitions they did for charity. And of course Mah-Mah wouldn’t dare let Sahvrin miss his birthday with all that going on. The woman was ruthless when it came to all things celebratory. You participated or became gator bait.

Sahvrin didn’t mind the clothing since it called for wearing their Judges loaded with bone shattering .45 hollow-point bullets. Just what you wanted when dealing with unscrupulous thugs like Thadious Landry.

“Well,” Bart said, peeking from under the brim of his hat. “I’ve heard nothing but great things about Thaddy The Meat-patty, and all of it points to him giving us a reason.”

“He’s an asshole,” Zep agreed. “Pretty sure your prayers ’ll be answered in a timely manner.”

Jek clasped his hands behind his head. “Wish he’d hurry the fuck up so I can get back to actual work.” He looked at Lazure. “Did I tell you your son here has us booked till mid-summer next year?”

Lazure swerved a signature chilly gaze to Sahvrin. “Good to see you sinking your teeth in. But don’t think you’ll be too busy to make it to Mah-Mah’s parties.”

Zep gave a low chuckle. “Cuz you’ll be too dead if you don’t.” He looked at Sahvrin then, chucking his chin at him. “You ever find that part I wanted for my mod? Bros before doughs, don’t forget.”

Sahvrin gave a single head shake. “Went ahead and made it myself.”

“Damn,” Zep said, grinning at him. “Soon this whole town ‘ll be outfitted by the infamous Swamp Rats Mods -n- Rods.”

“All I wanna know is will my Swamp Dragon be converted before the boat races,” August said, his sky-blue gaze fired up. “You’re going down this year, big bro.”

Sahvrin chuckled, angling a look at him. “Mon Dieu,” he said with a headshake. “Like I’d ever modify your boat to beat mine. Lil T-Aug.”

August snapped a pissed look at Lazure, pointing at Sahvrin. “Tole you he cheats.”

They all laughed, except for August who shook his head at Sahvrin.

“You can always modify it yourself,” Lazure said, getting more laughter.

“Maybe while our sister wrangles the gators, you can collect their piss and use it in your fuel injectors,” Jek suggested, guffawing now.

“Jack off one of them males,” Zep assured with a wide-eyed nod. “That’ll fly your dragon straight up ur-anus.”

When the laughter settled, Sahvrin looked around at the empty bar, pulling the edge of his sleeve over his watch. “If he’s not here in five, I’m leaving. I have things to do in town before the festival traffic gets fucking ludicrous.”

“Speaking of…” Bart said lowly, “…we find any more unusual traffic in the swamp?”

“I haven’t,” Sahvrin said. “Thinking it was dropped by one of the tourists.”

“Yeah, cuz they’re always dropping used condoms, baggies of coke, and ripped to fuck panties,” Jek said, suddenly banging the table with his fist. “Dammit! I still need to make a run to the Sale Barn to stock our surplus before one of these hurricanes visits our front porch.”

Like a well-timed curse, the door opened at the rear of the room and a Mr. T looking dude called, “Boss is ready.”

They waited for The First Bishop to move but he only sat and stared at the man for several seconds. He finally rose slowly, and they all followed.

****

“Well if it isn’t The Bayou Bishops!”

The overly dramatic welcome came from a bull-built man with a densely inked bald head.

The unnamed hostility in his blaring welcome put Sahvrin in mind of the three men on the left and the one behind them at the door of the small office.

“Names Thadious. Have a seat. You must be the father, Lazure.”

“I am,” his father said, taking the seat across from the desk while he and his brothers moved in to stand directly behind him. “These are my sons with me. Jekon, August, Zephrin, Bartholome, and my oldest Sahvrin.”

“Well, it’s good to meet the infamous Bayou Bishops in the flesh.” He took a seat with the air of a king, his throne’s hardware squawking under the weight of his royalty. “My bro Romero said good things about you and your family.” He eyed his brothers and Sahvrin recognized the kind of tight smile he wore. Those nearly black eyes gleamed with everything Sahvrin committed to killing. He never mentioned it to Lazure or his brothers, but Sahvrin had a thick hunch that whatever they were finding in the swamp came directly from the pig-head he stared at. Who else would be trespassing their laws except those already approved to pass?

“Your brother was a fine man,” his father said, only half meaning it since they didn’t really know any of them, nor they them. “You said you wanted to talk. What about?”

“Well, I’m gonna come right out with it.” He leaned back in his chair wearing the look of a man who always got his way. “We’ve picked up some new contracts with our brothers down in New Mexico. The usual arms trade.” He gave a weird nonchalant twitch before jutting his chin. “Wanted to offer you a deal. You let us set up shop in the swamps, and you get ten percent of sales.”

His father sat speechless and still long enough for Sahvrin to move his hand in reach of his Judge. “Last I checked, the contract said no arms business in the swamp. It also says you have safe passage as long as you follow the laws of our land. If you have a problem with that, we no longer have a contract.”

Sahvrin became keenly aware they were now a roadblock to a whole lot of dirty money.

“Maybe you need time to think it over,” the man said, his threat loud and clear. He sat back and added, “Your boy Old man Francois and his crew said he had no problem with it.”

Sahvrin felt the air around his father thicken. “You should talk to him about setting up shop, then?”

The man narrowed his brows at the obstacle across from him. “You and I have a contract.”

“Not anymore. But I’m sure Old Man Francois will be happy to work out a deal with you.” His father’s tone had gone lethal and daring.

The man’s chair screeched loudly as he leaned forward, locking his hands together. “Mr. Lazure… I should remind you that our contract is a two-way street. You give us protection and we give you protection.”

His father also leaned forward. “We don’t need your fucking protection. But… you do need ours.”

The dead calm in his father’s tone had Sahvrin tense as their stare-off stretched in the silence. Thadious suddenly angled his head with a weird smile. “Lazure…” he began, like he wanted to redirect the conversation to a less fucked end. “These are legal arms trade. But the gun laws aren’t the same in every state, you know that, I know that. We’re both in agreement that the laws of the land aren’t always just. That’s why you have your own set of laws, right?”

“It is.”

The man smiled with wicked glee like that solved everything. “Same for me and my brothers,” he said, spreading meaty arms.

“My answer stays. We want no part in it.”

Lazure rose, and the man shot up from his chair, bringing five Judges aimed at his head.

“That was a big mistake, Bishop,” the man warned with his hands up, glancing nervously.

“Wach his boys,” Sahvrin said, not taking his eyes from the prez. “Take your fucking seat and tell your men to do the same or my brothers ’ll blow their knees out.”

The men sat quickly on the floor not needing to be told and Sahvrin backed out of the room, keeping the barrel aimed at the face of human filth.

“You leave, Lazure, and our contract is broken,” he bellowed behind them.

“Au revoir, you gras son of a putahn,” his father called, not looking back.

“Francois will take the contract, you dumb sonofabitch!” he yelled as they exited the front door.

“Bart!” Sahvrin called when his brother spun and headed back for the entrance.

“Get in the truck,” their father ordered.

Sahvrin hopped in the driver’s seat and his brothers jumped in the back like watchdogs. “Those sonofabitches are already running in our swamp, this I’m sure,” Sahvrin muttered, revving the engine. “We need to talk to Francois.”

“That cocksucker was bluffing,” Lazure assured, propping an arm on the back seat. “And Francois knows better.”

“It’s not Francois I’m worried about, it’s his crew which can only mean his two sons.”

“Then you’ll pay them a visit. Make sure they understand that if they cross The Bayou Bishop codes, they pay the price.”

****

By the time Sahvrin got back to their Dry Dock, he was racing the clock. Climbing on his bike, he headed back into town, meeting traffic as foul as his mood. It was another fifteen minutes to find a place to park then a race-walk through roads and sidewalks crowded with early tourists. All for a fucking tube of JB Weld. Thanks to the new postal worker who delivered his shipment five doors down to his one and only thieven neighbor.

D batteries, don’t forget that.He didn’t like running swamp traps at night without his high beam light, especially with the Roulettes up to no good. He might have to let Lucas take it over with how busy things were getting at the shop.

“Ahhh, fuck! No!” he muttered, yanking on the locked door of the hardware store. He searched for a familiar face inside that he could bribe. He couldn’t wait till Monday for this, he was already fucking behind.

“Excuse me.”

Sahvrin turned to find a woman smiling at him. “What?” he demanded, not in the mood to be hit on by empty headed tourists.

“I was here for the festival and was wondering if there was maybe a map of the streets so that I don’t get lost.” She smiled more somehow and did a strange eye flutter. “I’m staying at the Breaux Bridge Inn and wanted to make sure I could find my way back.”

Anger gnawed on his last nerve at what she’d just said. “Where you from?” Definitely not there.

“Oh, up north!”

The vague yet obvious answer annoyed him more. “You tell me the exact hotel you’re staying at and only the geographical location of where you’re from.”

“Sorry! North Dakota!” she gushed, mistaking his sarcasm for him actually wanting to know that.

If he’d been one of his fornicating brothers, he’d seize the opportunity this woman was likely offering. But as the leader of The Twelve, code dictated he have no dealings with women unless absolutely necessary, and this definitely didn’t feel necessary other than to point out her reckless stupidity. “You’re here from North Dakota, a woman travelling alone obviously, and the first stranger you talk to, you give them the name of your hotel and ask for a map so you don’t get lost. Ma Petite, if all you get is lost, you can thank whatever God you serve. And if you’re wanting more than a map, try giving your room and phone number to make it simpler.”

The look of shock on her pretty face reminded him how little practice he had with the opposite sex. “The gas stations have maps of local attractions,” he said, attempting to clean his social mess. He moved to leave, but her oddly modest black dress stopped him in his tracks. “Are you going to a costume party?”

Her attempts at composing herself were painful to watch. He recognized anger in her bright gray eyes now as she presented a huge smile. “To think I was told everybody in the south was soooo hospitable. What are the odds I’d run into the town prick on my first try at socializing. And no, I’m not going to a costume party, Mister…” she looked him over, “whatever you’re supposed to be.”

The insult humored him. “Bishop,” he said, deciding to introduce himself.

She shot out a laugh with wide eyes. “A bishop!” Her disgust added to the comedy, and by now he was kicking himself for being so far out of line with a woman who was obviously the opposite of what he’d assumed.

“My name is Sahvrin Bishop, I was introducing myself. I dress this way during festivals, it’s a tradition.”

And just as suddenly, other odd emotions chased off her anger, leaving her wordless and somehow more socially awkward than he was. “Where is your chaperone, Miss…”

Like a match on gasoline, those gray eyes flashed with fire again, right on him. “I am not a child.”

He was sure she’d had this argument with somebody else many times judging by the amount of pissed she was. Brother? Father? Boyfriend? Surely not boyfriend or he’d be with her. “I wasn’t saying you were, I was wondering why you’re out here alone in a city you know nothing about.”

She shot a finger at him, like they were having a fight. “I know plenty about this town, I’ve studied it and have planned to come here my entire life. I probably know more than you do!”

He glanced around. Mon Dieu, her dramatics were a calling card for trouble. “I don’t know what chaperone means where you come from,” he said, angling his look at her, “but here it’s another adult individual, preferably male, that makes sure you’re not mugged or worse.”

“I know what chaperone means--”

Sahvrin pulled his chirping phone from his pocket and looked at the screen. “Excuse me,” he said, answering his sister’s call.

“Mah-Mah is wondering if you have her grocery list still.”

Sahvrin turned a little with closed eyes. Fffffuck, why did he have to agree to everything she asked of him? “I do.”

“Ooookay, so you do but you don’t,” she interpreted, knowing him too well.

“Tell her she’ll have her list before the night is up.”

“Sahvrin will have your list before the stroke of midnight,” she called out on the phone. “Where are you? Sounds loud.”

He turned, remembering the girl. Shit, where’d she go? He looked around the crowd. “I was in town, trying to pick up something from the hardware store.” He finally spotted her, engaged in conversation with a group of girls. She had that same bubbly joy, confirming her genuine naiveite.

“Hellooooo, earth to Sahvrin, come in Sahvrin.”

“Sorry, it’s hectic here.” He glanced at her once more, debating on what to do. There wasn’t much he could do, and he damn well wasn’t volunteering to chaperone anybody.

He headed in the opposite direction, ready to get the hell out of there. “Tell Mah-Mah I’m getting it now. See you tonight.”