She gave a little unladylike snort. “I’m expectin’ lightnin’ to strike you any minute now, boy.”

“Why the shotgun, Nonny?” Wyatt persisted quietly, slipping the question back in casually. He slathered butter on the bread and took a bite. Pure heaven. Evidently Ezekiel and Malichai felt the same. They were making short work of the three loaves his grand-mere had baked.

“That fence is right along that swamp area where my plants I need for medicinal purposes grow. I was there harvestin’ the other day and some kind of ruckus broke out in that buildin’, with alarms shriekin’ and voices on loudspeakers. Dogs were goin’ crazy, and the guards got all panicked. Now that’s none of my business. My plants was my business, Wyatt.”

Wyatt put down his spoon and sat back, giving her his full attention.

“All of a sudden, these men surround me, trampin’ through my plants and swearin’ like they was gunna kill me. I had to raise my hands, and one of them put his hands on me, so I kicked him where it counts.”

Wyatt felt the familiar surge of heat rushing through his body, threatening to boil over. He had a temper, he knew that, but his enhancement had made it worse, much more difficult to control, and the thought of a man putting his hands on his grandmother made his blood swirl hotly. Beneath the table his fists clenched and under his feet, the floor shivered.

Both Ezekiel and Malichai put down their spoons as well, heads up alertly, suddenly listening just as closely to what Nonny had to say.

“Explain puttin’ his hands on you, Grand-mere,” Ezekiel said, his voice deadly quiet.

“Now don’ go gettin’ all riled, boys. I can handle myself, I’m not that old yet. He was pattin’ me down for weapons. Took my best knife too. Still has that knife, and I want it back. They told me they knew where I lived and called me by name. Ms. Fontenot, they said. The big one said he’d be comin’ by my house and settin’ his dog on me if I didn’ keep my nose out their business and keep my mouth shut ’bout what I seen and heard.”

“What did you see and hear?”

“That’s the thing, Wyatt.” Nonny sounded annoyed. “I was workin’ and had my contraption in my ear, the one you got me for Christmas with all the music. I wasn’ listenin’ or lookin’ until those sirens went off.” Clearly she was deeply disappointed she hadn’t seen whatever it was they didn’t want her to see. “I got me the idea that they’re making dirty bombs.”

Wyatt worked hard to keep the smile from his face. He found the idea that his petite grandmother even knew what a dirty bomb was both unsettling and a little funny. She glared at him, so he didn’t make the mistake of actually grinning.

“Dirty bomb?” he echoed. “Where did you come up with that?”

“I listen to the news,” she replied with great dignity. “I know what goes on in the world, and those men are up to no good.” She leaned close. “When they go to the Huracan Club, they don’ talk to nobody. Not even Delmar. They jist keep to themselves and glower at everyone. Even when the boys push them a bit, they don’ want to fight and that’s jist not natural. Delmar says they don’ drink anythin’ but beer and never more than two apiece.”

“Maybe the bayou doesn’ give them a powerful thirst like it does the rest of us. Are they city boys?” Wyatt asked.

“They don’ look like city boys, Wyatt, except for a couple of the suits that come and go on occasion.”

“So you do keep an eye on the place,” he said, using his mildest tone.

His tone didn’t matter. She gave him a look that had withered him as a boy and still left the pit of his stomach unsettled.

“Everyone keeps an eye on them. I’m tellin’ you, somethin’s not right there.”

“Well, you know, Grand-mere, I think it best you stop your harvestin’ until I check it out. Which man put his hands on you? Do you have a description for me?”

“I can do better than that, Wyatt. I took his picture with that newfangled camera Flame got me. She calls it a cell and it rings now and then, but I don’ know how to answer it so I just take pictures with it.”

Wyatt shook his head. “You don’ answer your phone, Nonny?”

“Who wants to be talkin’ when they should be workin’?”

“She’s got a point,” Malichai said. “Can we see this picture?” He glanced at Wyatt. Clearly he couldn’t imagine a man patting down Nonny and then intimidating her by threatening to come to her home. “I’m glad you have that shotgun, ma’am.”

“I may have to use it if you keep callin’ me ma’am,” Nonny said. “My boys call me Grand-mere or Nonny. You’re here in my home and I’m claimin’ you as my own.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Ezekiel said. “Thank you. We’ve never been claimed before.”

Wyatt snorted derisively. “Don’ be so happy about it. That means she’ll take a switch to you if you give her any trouble,” Wyatt said.

“He sounds like he got the switch a lot, Nonny,” Malichai said.

“He should have gotten the switch,” Nonny said, “but he and his brothers were far too charmin’.” She sounded proud – and loving.

Wyatt could hear the love in her voice. He almost couldn’t remember the reason he’d been so reluctant to return to the bayou. He loved it there, everything about it, especially his grandmother. After hearing about the men guarding the new plant, he was more than happy he’d come back home. Still, what man wanted to come home and admit to the woman he respected and admired most, just what a blind ass he’d been?