Special Forces: Operation Alpha: Saving Sarah (Kindle Worlds Novella) (New Orleans Connection Series Book 7) (6 page)

"Looks like Gator's back.  Wants us to meet him at his place."  He held out his hand to Sarah.  "You ready to go?" 

"Absolutely."  She placed her hand in his, turning toward Remy.  "It was very nice meeting you, Remy.  Thank you for helping look for Anna." 

Remy stood.  "I'll let you know if I hear anything, and I'll stay on top of the guys to keep their eyes peeled.  Ranger, let me know if Gator hears anything."

"Will do." 

Stepping out into the bright sunshine, Ranger pulled out a pair of mirrored sunglasses and slid them on.  He wasn't surprised when Sarah did the same. 

"Fastest way to the house is by water.  You mind riding in a boat?" 

"I'd love a boat ride.  I can't wait to see the real heart of Louisiana, from the water." 

"It's a short walk to the dock where my boat's tied off." 

He placed his hand on the small of her back, and they headed down Decatur Street.  Excitement zinged through his blood.  He wouldn't mind showing Sarah the real New Orleans, the city he loved and wanted to share with her—the sights, and sounds, and smells that made her the jewel of the Mississippi. 

But first, they had to make a trip to Gator's house, or as Ranger liked to call it—home.   

CHAPTER NINE

Gator Boudreau stood erect, like a sentry standing guard, at the end of the wooden dock.  Ranger steered his boat up alongside, and tossed the rope to his dad to tie it off.  He couldn't explain why he'd wanted Sarah to come out to the old family home to meet his father.  They could just as easily have met up in town, yet he'd wanted her to have this glimpse into his past.  See the land and the bayou the way he remembered it, and loved it to this day.  A lot of things had changed in his life, but the swamps and its denizens remained the same.

"You made good time, boy."  Gator stuck out a hand and helped Sarah clamor out of the boat.  His father raised a brow at her shirt as he glanced back at him.  Ranger grinned, ducking his head so his daddy couldn't see his eyes, knowing he recognized it as his.  It was one of his favorites that he wore a lot.

"Ms. Sloane, it's a pleasure to meet you." 

"Mr. Boudreau," Sarah stuck out her hand and Gator ignored it, instead pulling her forward into a brief hug.  Her hands slid around him for a brief moment, before his daddy let her go. 

That's weird.  Daddy ain't much into hugging strangers, especially women.  Wonder what brought that on?

"None of that Mr. Boudreau nonsense, honey.  You call me Gator.  Let's head on inside.  I made up some sweet tea."  Gator looped Sarah's hand through his arm, giving it a quick pat, and Ranger rolled his eyes, walking behind them.  He wasn't sure what his daddy was up to, but it had the hairs on the back of his neck standing at attention.  While his father loved women, and treated them with respect, he'd never seen him react to anybody the way he was Sarah, treating her like she was royalty.

The house where he'd grown up was a sprawling ranch which faced the edge of the lake.  The yard overlooked the waterfront and was covered with an abundance of green grass and tall oaks.  Spanish moss decorated the branches, resembling melting candle wax dripping from their huge branches.  A large wraparound porch circled the entire front of the house, with a porch swing where he remembered his mama spending time curled up amongst the cushions, and staring out over the water.  Several white-painted rockers were scattered on either side of the front door. 

When he'd been a kid, he'd thought the place was huge, especially after seeing some of the houses his friends lived in.  Nowadays he saw it for what it was, two thousand square feet of brick, concrete, and wood, with four bedrooms and two bathrooms.  A little tired and worn around the edges, yet even though he no longer lived there, it was and probably always would be—home.   

Settling into the kitchen, Gator poured iced tea into glasses and passed them around.  A tray of cookies sat beside the tea pitcher.  Ranger recognized them immediately.  They were his daddy's special visitors-are-coming-over cookies, the ones that had to be ordered from the local bakery ahead of time.

He narrowed his eyes at his daddy, shooting him a glare, which Gator ignored, focusing all his attention and charm on Sarah.  One day he'd figure out how his daddy always knew when folks were coming.  Today, he'd just enjoy the cookies and conversation.  Because Gator wouldn't tell them a damned thing until he was good and ready. 

"Mr. Boudreau—Gator," Sarah hastily corrected when he frowned, "I don't mean to sound abrupt, but have you heard anything—about my sister?" 

Gator leaned back in his chair, arms crossed across his chest in a comfortable posture and sighed, shaking his head.  "There's rumbling on the streets.  Ain't got nothing concrete, but I'll tell you what I'm hearing."

"Please, anything you can tell me—us—will help." 

Ranger reached across and wrapped his hand around hers, squeezing softly.  He didn't give a damn at the look his daddy shot him, what he did care about was the anxious tone in Sarah's voice.  The way her hand trembled slightly beneath his.  He smiled when she reversed its position and she twined her fingers with his.  That was more like it. 

Gator started to chuckle, but quickly masked it with a cough.  Ranger wasn't fooled by his father's antics.  He knew exactly what the old goat was up to.  He was playing matchmaker.  A couple of years back, he'd gotten it into his head that he wasn't getting any younger, and it was time to see some grandbabies running around his place, and he'd been trying to match up all his sons ever since.  At the time, he'd been deployed and out of Gator's range.  Now that he was back in New Orleans, apparently his daddy thought he was fair game. 

Not that he could complain too much—since his thoughts were running along the same lines.  When everything was said and done, and the smoke had cleared, he intended to make Sarah his in every way possible, including legally.  She just didn't know it yet.  PTSD notwithstanding, or the fact he wasn't good enough for her—nobody was going to keep them apart—
not even me
. 

"Mind letting me see the picture of Anna?" 

Ranger pulled out his phone and pulled up the photo, feeling that spark he felt when he saw her face.  He'd dreamed about her again.  The good news was in this dream she was alive, though she wasn't in great shape.  Her face and arms were covered with bruises, and she'd had a bloodied lip.  He drew in a deep breath, and handed over the phone. 

Gator studied the picture closely, silent for several seconds.  Finally, he handed it back.  "She resembles the gal I heard about.  You remember Walter?"  He directed the question to Ranger.  With his nod, he continued, "Walter's been hanging out down in The Quarter most evenings lately.  Panhandling, figured the tourists would be soft touches.  Been sleeping in a bolt-hole behind a couple of clubs." 

"Dad, get to the point.  Sarah would rather hear the unvarnished truth.  You don't have to pretty things up." 

Gator frowned at him, his eyes narrowed.  "Don't you be telling me how to tell my story, boy.  Gonna do things my way."  His frown turned into a smile when he looked at Sarah.  "I can tell you're a strong woman, sugar, and more than able to handle the truth.  But, I'm gonna tell it like Walter told me, regardless of what my hardheaded son wants." 

Sarah chuckled.  "You tell it any way you want, Gator.  We'll listen and not interrupt again."  She shot Ranger a glare, but he read the humor in her eyes.  He played along and threw his hands in the air in an exaggerated movement. 

"Fine." 

Gator snorted.  "Anyway, Walter said he saw a couple coming out the back of Bimini Jack's.  Thinks it was a Friday or Saturday night, but he isn't positive.  Only reason he remembers is 'cos most folks don't leave through the back door.  It's one of them employees-only kind."

Gator paused to take a sip of his iced tea, and Ranger wanted to reach across and throttle him.  His daddy had a way of telling a story, and he wouldn't be rushed.  He ought to be used to it by now, but he'd rather just get the facts so they could head back into town and keep looking for Anna.  Because he knew deep in his gut time was running out.  He'd allowed himself to hope after the last dream that she really was still alive, and waiting for them to find her. 

"Walter said the girl was kinda unsteady on her feet, like maybe she'd had too much to drink.  Only the guy, a big hulking fella he said, grabbed her arm and started hustling her along, and she tried to yank her arm away from the guy.  They tussled a bit, but not so much he felt like he should interfere.  The way Walter figured, they were having a lover's quarrel, and he wasn't about to get in the middle of that.  The little gal stumbled and lost her shoes.  Said she mumbled under her breath, but didn't stop to pick 'em up.  Went along with the big fellow willingly after that.  Just walked around the corner barefoot, and he didn't see them again after that."

Gator reached onto the chair beside him and lifted a brown paper sack Ranger hadn't noticed.  Reaching inside, he pulled out a pair of women's shoes.  Dainty and pretty, they had about three inch heels and were covered with multicolored sparkles that glittered in the sunlight streaming through the kitchen window.

Sarah's gasp said it all.  He didn't need to see the color leach from her cheeks, to know she recognized them.  Those pretty heels belonged to her sister. 

"Those are Anna's."  Her hand shook as it reached for one shoe, her fingertip stroking along its glittering surface.  "We each picked up a pair of cheap heels on the clearance rack at the store, and stopped at the craft store and bought the sparkles and glitter.  We thought it would be a great idea to make matching sets, the shoes and these little clutch purses.  It was a project we worked on together, for our parent's anniversary party."  Her voice hitched on the last word.  "I didn't know she'd taken them with her when she left for school." 

Gator reached across and gently patted her hand.  "You gotta understand, hon, there's only so much credence you can pay Walter's story.  He's a good man, but living on the streets, he tends to be drunk more than sober most of the time, or high when he can score the money for a fix.  He picked up the shoes to sell 'em, except I got to him before he had a chance." 

Ranger looked at his dad, who was watching him closely, before turning to her.  "We're gonna find her, Sarah." 

"I know," she whispered.  Wiping away the tears, she stared at him.  "This proves somebody knows where she is.  She didn't leave or wander off.  Walter can tell the police what he saw…"

"Walter ain't gonna talk to the cops.  He don't trust 'em.  They approach him, he's gonna disappear." 

"Think he'd talk to Remy?  I think he's dealt with Walter before.  I know I can get Remy to meet him outside the police station." 

Gator considered his words for a long moment, the silence stretching out.  Ranger could hear the pulse beating inside his head, one beat, two, before Gator finally nodded. 

"He might be okay if he sees you too.  Though he's liable to be a bit skittish, so go easy on him."  He turned toward Sarah, explaining, "Walter's a vet, served in the Gulf War, and he's got PTSD pretty bad.  Not a whole lotta folks he trusts."

She nodded.  "We won't pressure him, just ask a couple of questions.  I promise we won't upset him.  But he might have seen something that could give a clue about who took my sister.  If we ask the right questions, it might jog his memory." 

Gator stood and walked around the table, and pulled Sarah from her chair.  "Come here, darlin'."  He wrapped his arms around her, much to Ranger's shock.  His daddy was just full of surprises today.  Never much of the touchy-feely type, he sure had taken a shine to Sarah.  Though he'd much rather she was in
his
arms, with him offering her comfort and support.  He listened to Gator speaking softly, telling Sarah not to worry, that everything was going to be fine. 

When she smiled at his father, it was like a glimpse of heaven right in the center of the old family kitchen, and he felt his gut clench.  The look on her face, the joy—he wanted to see that expression there all the time.  Didn't want any sadness touching her life, and made a promise to do everything within his ability to make sure she stayed happy. 

Sarah stepped back out of his father's arms, and turned to him.  "Why don't you call Remy and see if he can meet us and we'll go talk to Walter?" 

"Good idea, son.  While you're doing that, I'm gonna take Sarah outside and show her around a bit." 

Gator gave him a wink, before opening the back door, leading to the outside deck. 
The old coot, flirting with his girl.
  He did smile, glad his daddy liked Sarah.  Not that it mattered, but he wanted his approval, since he planned on keeping her, once he convinced her that he'd be a good catch. 

Which meant dealing with his own damned PTSD issues before he could offer her anything resembling a real life together.  He'd been avoiding going back in to see the therapist.  The shrinks tried to teach him some coping techniques for when things got bad, and he'd used a couple of them, but truthfully hadn't paid all that much attention, just wanting to get back to the bayous and away from the crowds and noise, which drove him crazy. 

But for Sarah, he'd do whatever it took.

He made the call, setting up a time with Remy to head over to Bimini Jack's and meet Walter.  While he almost wished he could leave Sarah here, he knew that wasn't gonna happen.  She'd fight him if he even suggested it.  Plus, Walter might open up to Sarah, once he knew that the girl he'd seen leaving the bar was her missing sister.

The sound of laughter drifted through the open kitchen window, and he spied his daddy leaning against the railing of the porch.  Their eyes met through the screen, and he gave a single short nod, letting him know it was time to go. 

He knew Gator wouldn't stop asking questions, especially now that he'd met Sarah.  The man was like his namesake, once he sank his teeth into something, he never turned it loose.  And he'd definitely latched onto his girl.

His girl
.  He liked the sound of that.

Stepping out onto the porch, he inhaled the briny tang of the lake water.  The house wasn't far from where the lake gave way to the beginning of the swamp.  The small camp where he spent most of his time was a couple of miles further into the bayou, hidden in one of the recesses where most folks didn't go.  Part of him wanted to head there, taking Sarah with him, yet he felt strong enough to resist the urge. 

"Time to go, sweetheart.  Remy's going to meet us in a couple of hours in front of Bimini Jack's, and we'll start looking for Walter.  Hopefully, he'll be there, but we might not find him until later—after dark."  He didn't add that if Walter disappeared into the recesses of the city, they wouldn't find him unless he wanted to be found.