Page 40 of Xavier

Xavier gave the man a single nod, turned and walked out of the house.

“And close the door behind you!” Romig yelled.

Biting back the urge to slam the door, Xavier gripped the handle and pulled it closed with little more than a click.

Lissette waited for him in the skiff.

Xavier studied her tense face as he approached and stepped into the boat.

“I’m sorry you had to bear the brunt of his contempt. Don’t take it personally,” she said from behind him. “It’s all really directed at me. Only seven more homes in the bayou, and we can go door to door in town.” She started the engine and pulled away from the dock.

Xavier wanted to say so much, but the noise of the engine and the fact that he was facing away from her would make it impossible for her to hear. Besides, what would he say?

It’s okay.

Those men didn’t mean it.

Give it time. They’ll come around.

The problem was that it wasn’t okay. Fournier and Romig had meant every word they’d said, and they might never forgive her for what she’d tried to do to Shelby. Hell, Shelby might never forgive her for attempting to kill her.

Remy sure as hell wouldn’t forgive Lissette for nearly killing the love of his life, and he’d never trust her.

Still, his chest tightened at the venom the men had spewed at her when she’d come in her grandmother’s stead to deliver food, medicine and information they needed to stay safe.

The next four homes were much the same. A woman chased Lissette off the dock wielding a broom. A man stood in his doorway, holding a shotgun. Another woman refused to answer the door but told her to leave the food on the porch and thank her grandmother. However, she’d go hungry until Madame Gautier’s ankle was better, before she’d accept anything else from Lissette.

By the time she pulled into their last stop, shadows had formed crescents beneath Lissette’s eyes. Towering cypress trees surrounded the quiet cove. A quaint pale-yellow cottage with white shutters stood on a knoll. The low white picket fence surrounding the cottage had honeysuckle vines twisting between the slats.

Lissette killed the motor and let the skiff slide up to the dock. Xavier stepped out and tied the line. He reached down to help Lissette out of the boat.

She stood for a moment with the package to be delivered and stared at the cottage on the knoll. “I remember the first time I saw this cottage,” Lissette said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’d just come to live with my grandmother. She didn’t want to leave me alone for the first couple of weeks, so she took me out on her house calls.”

Lissette stared up at the little cottage, a smile curling her lips. “When we came to this house, I thought it wasn’t real. It looked like it was straight out of a fairy-tale book I’d borrowed from the school library.”

She didn’t make a move toward the house. “I told myself I wouldn’t be like my mother, moving from one lousy apartment to another. I was going to live in a house like that one day.” She snorted. “Instead, I went to jail. There must be a lot more to genetics than I originally thought.”

Xavier touched a hand to the small of her back. “You don’t have to be like anyone but yourself.”

“What if you don’t like who you are?”

“Then you can be anything you want to be. It’s all up to you.”

“That’s what I thought. I didn’t like myself. I see that now. I was hell-bent on being hell-bent. Now, I want to change, to be a better person.” She shook her head. “Unfortunately, nobody can see me as any different from the woman I was before I went to prison. Everyone reminds me that a leopard doesn’t change its spots.” She glanced up at him. “Don’t think I’m feeling sorry for myself. I deserve their scorn. I did some contemptible things. You don’t have to come with me. I can handle this house call on my own.” She started walking.

Xavier caught up with her and matched her pace. “Can’t get rid of me that easily.”

“You’re a glutton for punishment, frogman.” She looked at him through narrowed eyes. “And I don’t need your pity.”

“Not pity,” he said. “I figure a woman the mafia wants shouldn’t be making house calls alone. It’s all purely practical and part of my job.” He lifted his chin toward the cottage. “Who lives here?”

Lissette’s eyes glistened suspiciously. She glanced down at the package and instructions, avoiding his gaze. “Mrs. Miriam Sage is diabetic and doesn’t get out often. My grandmother brings her insulin and poultices for sores that won’t heal. I’m supposed to apply the poultice if she’ll let me. We could’ve come by road, but it’s faster by boat.”

Lissette squared her shoulders and knocked on the door.

After a long pause, the door opened to a diminutive woman who could have been eighty or one hundred years old, with rheumy blue eyes and an extensive map of well-earned wrinkles across her face.

“Can I help you?” she asked in a shaky voice.