Nonny's eyebrows drew together in a frown. "You boys had no one lookin' after you when you were young? Not anyone?"
Malichai shrugged. "We did a pretty good job of it, ma'am. We had each other's backs. We grew up in a city, and we knew every building and alley there was." He scooped a hefty amount of gumbo into his bowl and caught up a generous amount of bread before taking his seat.
"The older we got, the easier it was," Ezekiel added. "We got a reputation for fighting and the others left us alone."
Nonny shook her head. "You boys. You'll fit right in with my boys. They do like to fight." She sat back in her chair with a feigned little slump. "I should put in a call to Delmar and warn him you might be visitin' his place and not to let the three of you in."
"The Delmar that saw the Rougarou," Malichai clarified.
"That's the one," Wyatt said. "His place, the Huracan Club, is the best place on the bayou to go for drinks, women and fights. Well, for drinks and fights. Or just plain fights," Wyatt said to the Fortunes brothers. He laughed and raised his eyebrow at his grandmother. "That would just be mean, Nonny. We're all grown up now and we don' get into trouble like we used to."
She gave a little unladylike snort. "I'm expectin' lightnin' to strike you any minute now, boy."
"Why the shotgun, Nonny?" Wyatt persisted quietly, slipping the question back in casually. He slathered butter on the bread and took a bite. Pure heaven. Evidently Ezekiel and Malichai felt the same. They were making short work of the three loaves his grand-mere had baked.
"That fence is right along that swamp area where my plants I need for medicinal purposes grow. I was there harvestin' the other day and some kind of ruckus broke out in that buildin', with alarms shriekin' and voices on loudspeakers. Dogs were goin' crazy, and the guards got all panicked. Now that's none of my business. My plants was my business, Wyatt."
Wyatt put down his spoon and sat back, giving her his full attention.
"All of a sudden, these men surround me, trampin' through my plants and swearin' like they was gunna kill me. I had to raise my hands, and one of them put his hands on me, so I kicked him where it counts."
Wyatt felt the familiar surge of heat rushing through his body, threatening to boil over. He had a temper, he knew that, but his enhancement had made it worse, much more difficult to control, and the thought of a man putting his hands on his grandmother made his blood swirl hotly. Beneath the table his fists clenched and under his feet, the floor shivered.
Both Ezekiel and Malichai put down their spoons as well, heads up alertly, suddenly listening just as closely to what Nonny had to say.
"Explain puttin' his hands on you, Grand-mere," Ezekiel said, his voice deadly quiet.
"Now don' go gettin' all riled, boys. I can handle myself, I'm not that old yet. He was pattin' me down for weapons. Took my best knife too. Still has that knife, and I want it back. They told me they knew where I lived and called me by name. Ms. Fontenot, they said. The big one said he'd be comin' by my house and settin' his dog on me if I didn' keep my nose out their business and keep my mouth shut 'bout what I seen and heard."
"What did you see and hear?"
"That's the thing, Wyatt." Nonny sounded annoyed. "I was workin' and had my contraption in my ear, the one you got me for Christmas with all the music. I wasn' listenin' or lookin' until those sirens went off." Clearly she was deeply disappointed she hadn't seen whatever it was they didn't want her to see. "I got me the idea that they're making dirty bombs."
Wyatt worked hard to keep the smile from his face. He found the idea that his petite grandmother even knew what a dirty bomb was both unsettling and a little funny. She glared at him, so he didn't make the mistake of actually grinning.
"Dirty bomb?" he echoed. "Where did you come up with that?"
"I listen to the news," she replied with great dignity. "I know what goes on in the world, and those men are up to no good." She leaned close. "When they go to the Huracan Club, they don' talk to nobody. Not even Delmar. They jist keep to themselves and glower at everyone. Even when the boys push them a bit, they don' want to fight and that's jist not natural. Delmar says they don' drink anythin' but beer and never more than two apiece."
"Maybe the bayou doesn' give them a powerful thirst like it does the rest of us. Are they city boys?" Wyatt asked.
"They don' look like city boys, Wyatt, except for a couple of the suits that come and go on occasion."
"So you do keep an eye on the place," he said, using his mildest tone.
His tone didn't matter. She gave him a look that had withered him as a boy and still left the pit of his stomach unsettled.
"Everyone keeps an eye on them. I'm tellin' you, somethin's not right there."
"Well, you know, Grand-mere, I think it best you stop your harvestin' until I check it out. Which man put his hands on you? Do you have a description for me?"
"I can do better than that, Wyatt. I took his picture with that newfangled camera Flame got me. She calls it a cell and it rings now and then, but I don' know how to answer it so I just take pictures with it."
Wyatt shook his head. "You don' answer your phone, Nonny?"
"Who wants to be talkin' when they should be workin'?"
"She's got a point," Malichai said. "Can we see this picture?" He glanced at Wyatt. Clearly he couldn't imagine a man patting down Nonny and then intimidating her by threatening to come to her home. "I'm glad you have that shotgun, ma'am."
"I may have to use it if you keep callin' me ma'am," Nonny said. "My boys call me Grand-mere or Nonny. You're here in my home and I'm claimin' you as my own."
"Yes, ma'am," Ezekiel said. "Thank you. We've never been claimed before."
Wyatt snorted derisively. "Don' be so happy about it. That means she'll take a switch to you if you give her any trouble," Wyatt said.
"He sounds like he got the switch a lot, Nonny," Malichai said.
"He should have gotten the switch," Nonny said, "but he and his brothers were far too charmin'." She sounded proud - and loving.
Wyatt could hear the love in her voice. He almost couldn't remember the reason he'd been so reluctant to return to the bayou. He loved it there, everything about it, especially his grandmother. After hearing about the men guarding the new plant, he was more than happy he'd come back home. Still, what man wanted to come home and admit to the woman he respected and admired most, just what a blind ass he'd been?
"Did you go back there, Nonny?" he asked suspiciously.
"I'm fixin' to. They trampled my plants, and I've spent years puttin' them all in that one spot in the swamp so I could gather them easier. I'm too old to be gallivantin' around the swamp lookin' for the right plants to make medicine when the traiteur calls for it."
"Traiteur?" Malichai asked.
"Our local healer," Wyatt supplied.
"I'll go look after your plants for you, ma'am," Ezekiel said. At her swift look he cleared his throat. "Grand-mere, I mean. I'll be more than happy to read anyone from the good book who comes looking to step on those plants again."
"You're a fine boy, Ezekiel. You may not have had much parentin' but you probably are one of those boys who just figgurs it out on your own," Nonny said.
Wyatt sent Ezekiel a sharp glance. All three of them were enhanced physically and psychically. Unfortunately, their cat DNA gave them a need for hunting. Wyatt felt sometimes as if his mind was always at war. The healer side of him versus the killer instinct that the cat had. Ezekiel already had been an aggressive, dominant male. He didn't fight for fun in the way Wyatt and his brothers did - Malichai, Mordichai and Ezekiel had fought from birth to stay alive. The new mixture of DNA into their already explosive make-up could be hazardous under the wrong circumstances.
You can't kill in my grand-mere's backyard. He used telepathic communication.
Ezekiel didn't look up from mopping up the gumbo with the bread.
What did you plan on doing, Wyatt? Malichai asked. Shaking hands with them and thanking them politely for patting down your grand-mere?
Your sarcasm is not appreciated. I plan on a little recon before I go to bed. I want to check out this building and who owns it. I can get word back to Mordichai and see if he can dig anything up on them for us while he's lookin' after Joe.
Wyatt hadn't been too surprised when his ability to speak telepathically with his team had been so easy - he'd always heard others in his head - catching random thoughts now and then - which was how he caught the love of his life cheating on him. At least at the time he'd thought she was the love of his life, now, after much soul searching, he realized he was just a damned fool with a white knight complex.
Beneath his hands the table trembled slightly, just enough for both Malichai and Ezekiel to frown at him.
What's wrong? We'll get these bastards, Ezekiel said. No one's going to hurt your grandmother, not with us here.
What could he say? That he couldn't bear thinking about what an idiot he'd been because he'd thought some woman ripped out his heart, stomped on it and then told him what she really thought of him - none of it good. He thought he loved her from the time he was five years old, when he'd first laid eyes on her at a neighborhood fais do-do. He'd devoted himself to her, although they didn't date in school. She appeared too fragile and always turned to him when she broke up with her latest boyfriend.