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Gerard scratched his chin. “I could swear your name was on the list I saw Mace carrying around.”

Jacques’ lips twitched.

Mace LaFayette, leader of the Bayou Reapers motorcycle club, had been after Anton to be their bayou Santa that year because he knew the bayou better than the other Brotherhood Protectors, and he had the perfect name for it: Papa Noel.

So far, Anton had evaded Mace at every turn.

“I can fill in until the new guys come on board,” Beau offered.

“How about you, Jacques?” Remy asked.

Danny arrived at that moment with a tray loaded with beer mugs and pitchers of beer. The men helped by taking the pitchers first and then passing mugs around the table.

“Thank you, Miss French,” Hank said with a smile. “I didn’t have a chance to thank you for your help at the picnic earlier. We couldn’t have done it without you.”

She smiled at Hank, this time the light reaching her eyes. “It was my pleasure.” Danny set the tab on the table in front of Colonel Jeffries.

Jeffries pushed the bill toward his aide, his brow furrowing as he studied Danny. “Danny French, did I hear right?”

Danny nodded.

His head tilted slightly. “Any relation to Chief Caleb French? The man’s a fine soldier. I believe he said he’s from somewhere in Louisiana. I’m presiding over his retirement next month.”

Beaumont’s pen stopped moving. His gaze rose to Danny, his eyes narrowing.

“Caleb French is my brother,” she said.

Colonel Jeffries’ smile broadened. “Well, now. Isn’t it a small world? What are the odds of running into his sister in the wilds of the Louisiana bayous?” He held out his hand. “Pleasure to meet the chief’s sister.”

Danny shot a glance toward Jacques.

He rose from his chair and loaded empty mugs onto her tray. “You know, I’d like something other than beer. I’ll just follow you to the bar and save you a trip back.”

Holding the tray full of empty mugs like a shield, Danny nodded instead of taking the colonel’s hand. “Nice to meet you.” She started to turn.

“You’ll be at the retirement ceremony, won’t you?” Jeffries asked.

“I’m not sure,” Danny said and hurried away.

Jacques followed. At the bar, he ordered a whiskey. While Rene poured, Jacques leaned close to Danny. “Which one?”

“I don’t know.” She shook her head, her brow knitting as she set the empty mugs on the counter. “I’m not sure it’s any of them. I’ve been wrong before. I don’t know if I really heard the voice or if my mind is playing tricks on me.” She stared down at the empty tray. “Damn it,” she muttered. “I made it through some of the toughest training to earn my Ranger tab, and he stole it all—my confidence, my career and my sense of self. I don’t know who I’m supposed to be. A Ranger is supposed to be fearless. I’m not. It scares the shit out of me that he’s still out there.”

The desperation in her tone tore at Jacques’ heart. More than anything, he wanted to pull her into his arms and hold her until the memories faded. “Danny, you’re going to figure it out,” he said. “And I’m going to help.”

CHAPTER 3

“Thanks,” Danny said. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but this is something I have to work through. I’ve got to wade through the haze and remember.”

A man slid onto a stool at the end of the bar and lifted his chin toward Danny.

She froze.

“Isn’t that Dale Pruitt?” Jacques asked.

“Yeah,” she said, second-guessing her absolute surety that Pruitt couldn’t have left his post as duty NCO without being missed.

Jacques leaned closer. “We have a computer guru who can work miracles at pulling information out of the web and various databases. I can have him run a scan on Pruitt.”