Chapter 4
Bernie shivered. Hearing the words aloud had an even more frightening effect than reading them on her cell phone.
“Phone number?” Remy asked.
Gerard shook his head in unison with Bernie. “Unknown caller.”
Remy pulled his own cell phone from his pocket and punched in a number.
“Swede,” he said. “Our client just received a death threat via text. Can you hack into an unknown caller?” Remy nodded.
“I understand, but if it leads to something other than a burner phone...” His gaze met Bernie’s.
“I’ll shoot you her phone number in a text.
Anything you can do could help. Thanks.” He ended the call.
“Who’s Swede?” Bernie asked.
“Axel Svenson,” Remy said, “aka Swede, is the Brotherhood Protectors’ technical expert at our home office in Montana. Do you mind if I share your phone number with him? He might have some connections to access your phone records and maybe trace the text back to its source.”
“Share it. Anything you need. I use the same phone number for personal and business use. It’s not a secret.” Bernie frowned. “You said something about a burner phone. Can he trace one of those?”
“Probably not,” Remy said as he scrolled through his contacts list and shared Bernie’s phone number with the technical expert. “But if it isn’t a burner phone, we might have a chance of identifying the sender. In the meantime, you need twenty-four-seven protection.”
“You think this guy is serious?” Bernie wrapped her arms around her middle, suddenly cold in the heat of southern Louisiana.
Gerard handed her cell phone back to her. “Do you want to take a chance that he’s not?”
Bernie shook her head. “I just hate to be a bother. And I’m pretty sure I can’t afford to pay Brotherhood Protectors for twenty-four-seven security.”
“Don’t worry about payment,” Remy said. “Hank Patterson, our founder, doesn’t take on clients based on their ability to pay. He and his wife, Sadie McClain, set up the funding to offer services to anyone who needs it, regardless of their ability to pay.”
Bernie frowned. “Sadie McClain. That name sounds familiar.”
Gerard grinned. “It should. She’s one of Hollywood’s biggest movie stars.”
Bernie’s eyes rounded. “Sadie McClain, the movie star? Wow. That’s very generous of her and her husband.”
Remy turned to Gerard. “Since Gerard had initially been sent on this particular assignment, it only makes sense that he be the one to stay.”
Bernie met Gerard’s gaze.
He gave a subtle nod.
Remy continued. “The other alternative is to stay with Shelby and me. Or at the Bayou Brotherhood Boarding House.”
Before Remy finished talking, Bernie was already shaking her head. “I can’t leave the animals. I’ve already lost my beloved Gertrude and could’ve lost Penelope. I can’t leave the animals to fend for themselves.”
“Then, it’s settled,” Gerard said. “I’m staying.”
“Any idea what the text message sender was referring to when he said you have that he wants?” Gerard asked.
Bernie raised her hands, palms turned upward, looking around at her home, the house, the barn, and the animals in the pasture.
“No. The only thing new around here was the foot we found. I can’t imagine that’s what he wanted.
” She drew a deep breath and let it out slowly, her gaze returning to Gerard.
“All I know is I’m going to burn the gumbo if I don’t turn off the burner on the stove. Death threat aside, dinner’s ready.”
Gerard looked down at his dirty shirt and jeans. “Though we washed what we could, we’re still too dirty to sit at the table.”
Bernie waved her hand. “So am I. The farmhouse kitchen was designed to seat a dozen workers. The table is huge, and you can’t hurt the chairs. The bottom line is, we can all eat in the kitchen.”
The men followed her into the kitchen.
“Sit,” she ordered.
Romeo popped to attention and saluted. “Yes, ma’am.” Then he winked and dropped into one of the wooden chairs. The others followed suit.
It was nice to have company in the big kitchen. When she ate alone, the table stretched out so long and empty that she took her food into the living room and turned on the television, more for the noise than because she wanted to watch anything.
Bernie scooped heaping ladles full of the chicken and shrimp gumbo into bowls. Her hands still shook after reading the death threat on her cell phone.
Gerard appeared at her side. “Are you all right?”
No. She wasn’t. Why was this happening to her?
She gave him a watery smile. “I’m fine.”
He leaned close, touching a hand to the small of her back, and whispered. “I’ll keep you safe.”
Warmth spread throughout her along with the sudden urge to cry. The lump in her throat wouldn’t let air past her vocal cords. All she could do was nod and hand him two bowls of gumbo.
He carried bowls to the table as fast as she could fill them.
When everyone had a bowl in front of them, Bernie poured the rest of the gumbo into a tureen. Gerard carried it to the table and set it in the center.
Once everyone had gumbo, Bernie joined the men, carrying a basket of cornbread muffins. As she approached the table, Gerard pulled out her chair and held it as she took the seat.
With all eyes on her, she forced herself to take up her spoon, even though eating was the last thing on her mind. With Gerard on one side and Remy on the other, she felt safe. For the moment.
The meal began with the men handing around the basket of muffins and the bottle of Tabasco sauce. Soon, the Brotherhood Protectors team, who’d spent the afternoon loading heavy watermelons onto the trailer, talked, joked, laughed and compared aches and pains.
Bernie relaxed and even ate a few bits of gumbo and half a muffin.
“Compliments to the chef,” Romeo said after eating half his bowl of the steamy stew. “Best gumbo I’ve ever had. Even better than my grandmother’s.” He frowned. “Don’t tell her. I might lose my status as the favorite grandson.”
Bernie stared across the table at Romeo, her expression serious. “Thank you. Your secret is safe with me. I would never break an old woman’s heart.”
Romeo grinned. “Ms. Bellamy, you might just be the woman of my dreams.”
She shook her head. “How can that be? You’ve only just met me.”
“You’ve got a helluva a green thumb, you can drive a tractor and make gumbo that belongs in one of those fancy Cajun restaurants in New Orleans. Best of all, you’re kindhearted.” Romeo tipped his chin toward Gerard. “Don’t go fallin’ in love with ol’ Grouchy Gerard before you give me a chance.”
Bernie forced a laugh, her cheeks burning.
“You can’t have all the pretty girls, Romeo,” Beaux said. “Besides, I thought you were into the pretty shopkeeper?”
“What shopkeeper?” Bernie asked.
“The one with the gift shop,” Beaux offered. “What’s her name? Elizabeth?”
Romeo frowned. “Her name is Giselle.” He gave Bernie a crooked smile. “Can I help it I love women?”
Bernie shook her head. “I’m flattered but not interested. No offense,” she assured him. “I just don’t have time for a relationship. I have a farm to run.”
“It’s a lot of work for—” Gerard started and stopped.
“A woman?” Bernie finished, her lips twisting.
He shook his head. “I was going to say for one person . You worked every bit as hard, if not harder, than any one of us. It’s just a lot to handle by yourself.”
She sighed. “It’s my livelihood. If I don’t do it, I can’t afford to keep the lights on, the animals in feed and taxes paid on the land.
Or I’d have to find a job.” Bernie laughed.
“This is a small town. There aren’t that many jobs available.
That’s why so many young people leave after high school.
I’d have to go to New Orleans or Baton Rouge to find work that would pay enough to support me and my menagerie. And who—”
“—would take care of the animals while you worked in the city?” Gerard nodded. “I get it.”
“Have you thought about selling the place and using the money to start over somewhere else?” Landry asked.
Gerard’s lips twitched. “She has.”
Bernie frowned. “Brokers representing the Grand Bijou Golf Resort Corporation would love nothing better than for me to sell this property to them. And they’d pay enough I wouldn’t have to find a job for a long time, if at all.” She tipped her head toward Gerard. “You know how I feel.”
Gerard turned to his team. “She’s not selling.”
Remy’s eyes narrowed. “You have something they want.”
Bernie’s eyes widened. “Do you think they’d go to the extreme of threatening me to get me to sell?”
Remy shrugged. “It’s worth checking into. What did you say was the name of the corporation?”
“Grand Bijou Golf Resort,” Bernie repeated.
Remy keyed the name into his cell phone. “Did you get the name of the Brokerage firm?”
“Worthington Brokerage out of Miami.” Bernie pushed back from the table and stood.
The man came to their feet at the same time.
“You don’t have to get up,” Bernie said. “Finish your meal.”
Gerard glanced around at the others. “I think we’re done.”
Bernie shrugged and crossed to the counter, where she dropped mail and documents that needed to be sorted and filed. She sifted through the stack that had gotten ridiculously deep until she found the business card and handed it to Remy.
“They sent a couple of their brokers out. I had a hard time getting rid of them. They didn’t want to take no for an answer.
They need to close a deal on Bellamy Acres before they can begin construction.
I think they assumed it would be an easy deal.
Offer me enough money, and me being a widow, I’d be glad to sell. ”
“I’ll have Swede check into the resort and the brokerage firm,” Remy said.
The guys gathered their dishes and carried them to the sink.
“Don’t worry about the dishes. I’ll take care of them,” Bernie said.
“No, ma’am,” Gerard said. “You cooked. We can clean.” He washed bowls and stacked them neatly into the dish drainer while his teammates cleared the table and helped put away the leftovers.