Bayou Moon - Andrews, Ilona [43]
He grinned a crazy, happy grin. “You dived in to save me.”
“Don’t make too much of it.” Cerise dived, picked up momentum, and climbed into the boat. Idiot blueblood and his idiot eyes. What the hell was she doing? This was the last time she would let him throw her offkilter.
William hooked the eel’s carcass and swam, dragging it to the shore.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m going to cut off its head.”
“Why?”
“I’ll have it stuffed and mounted on my wall.”
She stared at him in disbelief. Every handsome man had a flaw. It was just her luck that in William’s case that flaw was lunacy. The man was nuts.
William’s feet must’ve hit the ground because he stood up and began to wade. “That way,” he said, “I’ll be sure the damn thing is dead.”
WILLIAM shifted his rucksack on his shoulder. The eel head he carried on a sharpened stick stank of rancid fish, and in retrospect he decided dragging it around probably wasn’t the smartest idea. But that’s what a blueblood would do, and he was too stubborn to toss it away now.
Cerise walked next to him. She hadn’t said two words since they had gotten back into the canoe. Apparently he really pissed her off with that fish. His plan to get her to like him had gone up in smoke. She would leave him in Sicktree and disappear in the swamp. They were getting close to town, too—the muddy path had joined a narrow one-lane road.
He was out of ideas and out of time.
“We’re almost there,” Cerise said.
Think. “Got a favor to ask you. Before we split, will you help me find somebody to take the fish off my hands?”
She frowned. He concentrated, trying to read her expression. It would be a no, he could see it in her eyes.
He pulled a doubloon from his pocket, holding the small coin between his index and middle finger. “I’ll pay for your time.”
“There is a man. He sometimes stuffs fish.” She held out her hand.
“Not until we get there.”
“Fine.” She turned away, but William caught a ghost of a smile on her lips.
He had done something right. He didn’t know what it was, but he hoped he would keep doing it.
Ahead the road bent. The wind brought the smell of gun oil and a hint of human sweat. He stopped. “There are people ahead.”
“How many?” Cerise asked.
“A few.”
She pulled her sword out and kept walking.
“If they’re waiting for you, we need to get off the road.”
“They would just track us down,” she said. “The road is better. Gives me space to work.”
Crazy woman.
They turned. Six men waited across the lane. Five had blades, the sixth held a rifle. They wanted to take her alive, William decided. The more guns you had, the higher was the likelihood that someone would lose his shit and pull the trigger, so they gave the coolest head a gun as insurance and brought lots of manpower.
A bright smile painted Cerise’s face. “Remember my family’s feud? This is their hired muscle. Stay back.”
“Very funny.” He kept walking. He was feeling a bit frustrated, and he always made it a point to vent his frustration.
“It’s not your fight.”
“Six of them, one of you. I don’t know what you think you’ll do with your pretty little sword. I know they aren’t playing.”
“If you try knocking me out of the way again, I will cut your arm off. Stay back, William. You’ll get hurt.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll share this time.”
“Don’t do it.”
Time to pick a fight. He jerked his fish head at the men barring the road and raised his voice. “Move.”
“Lunatic,” Cerise said under her breath.
The rifle’s barrel sighted Cerise instead of him. Ah. So they knew about her sword tricks, too.
The Edgers looked him over. A tall balding guy with a machete smiled. “Where did you find the blueblood, Cerise?”
“In the swamp,” she told him.
“That’s nice. You shouldn’t have gone off your land. Now you’re all alone out here and your family can’t help you.”
Cerise’s grin got wider. “You’re looking at it the wrong way. I’m not all alone with you. You’re alone with me. You should’ve brought more people. Six won’t do it.”
The Machete shrugged. “We got enough. Lagar says to bring you in