Ghostwalker 03 - Night Game

pier. One alligator stretched along the pier, much like a guard dog, eyes half closed, mouth wide open exposing sharp teeth, watching the boats chugging toward the cabin with lazy disinterest. Two other alligators snoozed on the grass in between the stumps and flowers quite close to the stairs leading to the porch. Neither looked up as several noisy people tied off pirogues and small fishing boats and clambered along the pier. The crowd made wide berths around the guard alligator with small salutes. Friday nights brought the boisterous throng and the loud, up beat music.

    “ Laissez le bon temps rouler!” Wyatt grinned at his oldest brother, and pointed to the ice chest in their boat as he shoved the long pole along the bottom of the canal, driving the pirogue toward the pier. “Of course, Grand-mere may never forgive you if you don’
    marry that girl and raise a family with her.”

    “ Oui, tais toi , Wyatt,” Gator groused. “Although the idea of taking her to bed does make my heart sing.”

    Wyatt toed at him good-naturedly. “And other body parts as well. She was damned fine-looking, even when she had the knife to your throat.”

    “I’ve seen him in action,” Ian MacGillicuddy announced, shoving at the lid of the ice chest. “I believe her. He’s been frequenting the clubs and I’d be willing to bet he charmed her into his bed.”

    Gator threw a beer cap at Ian. “You know I haven’t been here long enough to be makin’
    babies, much as the idea of trying with her may be appealin’.”

    “I don’ know, bro, they have these tests now that can tell practically overnight. Grand-mere has a royal bee in her bonnet now. She wants a marriage and it ain’t gonna be me.”
    Wyatt grinned at his brother. “And that woman, she held that knife like she knew how to use it. She’s a wildcat, that one.”

    Gator’s teeth flashed. “Yeah, she’s that, all right. Made me sit up and take notice.” He hadn’t stopped thinking about her. When he’d thrown his body over hers, her skin had been the softest thing he’d ever touched. He’d wanted her with every cell in his body.
    The blood had surged hot and greedy through his veins, pouring into his groin so that he still ached just thinking about her. He liked women, loved women, but he didn’t lust after any particular one—not like this. He forced his smile wider. “Laissez le bon temps rouler!”

    “What the hell does that mean exactly?” Ian demanded. “That and your tuto comment to your brother. I had the feeling that wasn’t very nice.”

    “He told me to shut up.”

    “Let the good times roll,” Gator interpreted for the big Irishman, ignoring Wyatt. “The Huracan Club is owned by Delmar Thibodeaux. And his place is always hoppin’.”

    “It’s good to have you home, Gator,” Wyatt said. “You made Grand-mere happy. I haven’t seen her smile like that in a couple of years. Well, until you got that woman pregnant, but I think if you marry her, Grand- mere will forgive all.”

    Unfortunately, his grandmother wouldn’t listen to him even when he pointed out he’d only been home four weeks. Technically four weeks was plenty of time for a Fontenot to get a woman pregnant. Nonny wanted her grandsons married and settled down, not wild and running free. She wanted another woman close and little babies to hold in her arms.
    He turned his head away from his brother and Ian, afraid his expression might give him away. He had a sudden longing for those very things—now that they might be out of his reach. Funny how he’d taken it all for granted. The home. The family. A wife and children.

    “ Grand-mere says twins run in the family, Gator. She’s hoping for two from you right away. You best be finding that woman and ropin’ her in fast, bro.”

    “Keep talking and I’m going to pin your ears back for you,” Gator said, forcing a soft laugh as he turned back toward his brother. The sound carried in the stillness of the swamp, but the smile didn’t reach his restless eyes. He searched the bayou, noting every canal, the lay of the land, the birds in flight. Even here at home with his friend and family, he made sure nothing got by him.

    Wyatt leaned on his pole a moment, studying the harsh planes and angles of his brother’s face. “You haven’t changed much. You still act as easygoing as ever, but there was no one tougher in the bayou.” He grinned at Ian. “The boys want to fight every night, but not Gator. They