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CHAPTER ONE
Ian, Nine, Gaspar, and Ghost sat on the dock at Belle Île drinking their coffee. They’d placed Adirondack chairs along the length of the dock on both sides and a gabled roof covering the top. Now, rain or shine, they could truly enjoy their dock and the bayou and islands beyond. It was probably one of the most peaceful spots on the island.
The mornings were starting to become cooler, more enjoyable. By noon, there would be the usual stifling humidity and heat, but for now, they could at least enjoy the peace and quiet of their bayou. They could watch as the pelicans and other wildlife dived for their morning meal. The soft sway of the hanging moss from the cypress trees and the recognizable scents from Mama Irene’s gardens on all the islands.
Gaspar heard the familiar sound that they heard every morning and rolled his eyes as the other men chuckled.
“He’s just saying good morning, brother,” smiled Nine.
Alvin, the team’s ‘pet’ alligator, pulled himself up onto the dock. He lowered his head as if to tell Gaspar he wasn’t going to do anything terrible. According to Trak, he wanted them to like him. He was like a leathery labrador.
“Morning, Alvin,” he said beneath his breath.
The gator actually lifted his head and looked at him. The others said good morning, and that seemed to satisfy the alligator. Only Mama Irene would take in an abandoned baby alligator and nurse him to full grown.
As much as Gaspar hated to admit it, the alligator had proven himself useful on multiple occasions. He even helped a wayward shark find his way back into the Gulf after a terrible storm. He felt hot breath on his neck and turned quickly, only to find Sema, their gorilla, sitting behind him, enjoying the sunrise.
“Un-fucking-believable. How the hell does she get from one island to another? You know what? Never mind,” he muttered. “Now I have to share my morning routine with the alligator and the gorilla.”
“Careful, brother. Semu really likes you, and she’s been very helpful with the dogs out at the K-9 center. I’m not sure how we’ve been so lucky with all the animals, but they’re adding a dimension to our team that I don’t think we fully appreciate yet,” smiled Nine.
“Are you listening to yourselves? We’re having coffee with an alligator and a gorilla. One wants to eat me; the other wants to crush me.”
Semu stared at Gaspar with a sad expression. She signed the word ‘love’ to him, and he nodded, chuckling to himself.
“I know, Semu. I love you, too,” he signed back. “It’s not you, sweet girl. I’m old and cranky, and I have a feeling something is going to come our way that we don’t like.” Semu kissed his head, and Gaspar could only laugh at the sweet gorilla.
“Everything that comes our way we don’t like,” said Nine. “We hunt and kill the bad guys, brother. Always have, always will. Now, we’re hunting a different kind of bad guys most days. I don’t care. It keeps me busy and young.”
“I know, I know. It’s not that. I feel like it’s something else. Something we’re going to struggle with.”
“You psychic now?” smirked Ghost. Gaspar looked at his friend and rubbed the heaviness in his chest. “Gaspar, brother, I was joking. Are you okay?”
“Yes. Yeah, I’m okay. Just a strange feeling, is all. Mama used to say she’d get a feeling in her chest when something was about to happen. Shit, I hope I didn’t inherit that skill.”
“Good morning,” smiled Erin, walking toward the men. She had a plate of cinnamon rolls for them, along with a few donuts.
“Oh, man, I love you even more,” said Nine, standing to kiss his wife. “I’ve been craving cinnamon rolls lately.”
“Well, your sweet tooth has to be brought under control at some point. We can’t have you developing diabetes.”
“Then why did you bring these?” he frowned.
“There’s a woman who called earlier this morning and left a voicemail on the Gray Wolf line. She said she needed to speak with someone about a murder.”
“A murder?” frowned Ian. “That might fall more in the VG group.”
“Maybe just talk to her,” said Erin. “She sounded elderly and seemed quite shaky on the call. Alexandra called her back and asked her to be here by eleven.”
“Okay, babe. Thanks,” said Nine, kissing his wife once again.
With the quietness already disturbed, it almost seemed pointless to continue to sit on their dock, and yet that’s what they did. On their little island, there was less chaos, less noise, so they took the chance to enjoy themselves whenever they could.
“Hi,” smiled Antoine, stepping onto the dock with soft, purposeful steps.
“What now?” frowned his big brother. Antoine could only laugh, shaking his head.
“Nothing. Nothing bad, anyway. Marcel and Amy had their babies last night. We just found out. Two sweet little boys, a bit over seven pounds each.” The guys all nodded, chuckling to themselves. Two hundred years too late, Marcel got what he deserved. A family.
