The Miss Fortune Series: Undercover Bubba (Kindle Worlds Novella) (Miss Chance meets Miss Fortune Book 3) by Sam Cheever Page B
Authors: Sam Cheever
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decided turn for the worse over a slight misunderstanding involving a bikini wax and a slavering Rottweiler.
You probably shouldn’t ask.
“I’m having trouble seeing the Heberts as art connoisseurs,” Fortune said.
“Exactly. So if they weren’t there to buy art, then what does that leave?” Cal asked.
“They’re watching out for their interests,” Ida Belle said, nodding.
Cal scratched his perpetually stubbled square chin. “I think we should take a little drive out to Heberts’ after the monastery.”
“Agreed,” Ida Belle said.
###
We parked in front of The Order of Saint Francis Assisi on the Bayou and went inside. The entryway walls were painted with bright, joyful depictions of Saint Francis with all of his animal friends and in its center a fountain sent happy splashing sounds into the room. We rang the bell and a man in a rough brown robe opened the door, giving us a Lurch type smile. “Can I help you?”
I stepped forward. “We’re here to see Lance P. Fenus.”
Snickering erupted behind me. I turned to glare at my friends, who all sported suspiciously neutral expressions.
“I believe Brother Fenus is in the garden. Shall I take you?”
I shook my head. “We know the way. Thanks.”
Inclining his head, the robed man stepped aside, indicating the hallway which I knew led to the expanse of grass, trees and water behind the monastery.
We emerged into the sizzling heat and I blinked at the sight before me. A cluster of brown robed men stood wringing their hands, an enormous gator lying peacefully in the sun several yards away.
But it wasn’t the sight of the monks that caused me to suck back and grab Cal’s arm. It was the big man standing a little distance away from them, an enormous, jagged-toothed knife in one big hand. He was easily seven feet tall with a thin brown ponytail and a patch over one eye. Beneath long nylon shorts, his left calf was misshapen, the muscle knotted and uneven from a gator bite.
Fortune came up beside me. “What’s Lyle Borne doing here?”
Cal had fixated on the enormous blade in Lyle’s hand and he was moving forward, no doubt intending to take Lyle down to save the monks.
“No. Wait.” I grabbed his hand. “Lyle’s a gator hunter.”
Cal’s Caribbean blue gaze widened in understanding.
Ida Belle looked at Gertie. “The bounty.”
“Of course.”
“Explain, please,” Cal said.
“The Blue Gator down the road holds a contest every year, offering $10,000 to the hunter who brings in the biggest gator.”
Gertie nodded. “Lyle’s come really close a couple of times but he never wins.” She jerked her head toward what I assumed was Aristotle. “That’s the biggest gator I’ve seen in years. If Lyle could bring him back he’d win for sure.”
I scanned the crowd of monks but didn’t see my father. “He’s not here.” I looked at Cal.
He did a quick scan of the robed men. “Okay, we’ll search the grounds.”
Before we could spread out and search, Lyle looked over and spotted us, his small eyes narrowing. Even from where I stood twenty yards away I could see his jaw tighten with rage. He probably still blamed me for his sister being arrested. And why wouldn’t he. I blamed myself every day.
I lifted a hand in what I hoped was a harmless but friendly greeting.
Unfortunately, Lyle’s hands formed into fists. He started toward us.
“Oh, oh,” Gertie murmured.
Cal stepped in front of me. Panic twisted my belly. Lyle had a big knife and Cal was only armed with good looks, brains and strength. I would never underestimate my intrepid PI in a fight but I was not going to be the cause of his getting hurt. I glanced at Gertie, nodding toward her oversized bag. “What have you got in there?”
She was already digging, her arm disappearing up to the shoulder in its vast depths. She pulled out a jar of water with a rag rubber-banded around it. “Water boarding, nah. Not helpful here.” She dropped that to the ground and dug in
You probably shouldn’t ask.
“I’m having trouble seeing the Heberts as art connoisseurs,” Fortune said.
“Exactly. So if they weren’t there to buy art, then what does that leave?” Cal asked.
“They’re watching out for their interests,” Ida Belle said, nodding.
Cal scratched his perpetually stubbled square chin. “I think we should take a little drive out to Heberts’ after the monastery.”
“Agreed,” Ida Belle said.
###
We parked in front of The Order of Saint Francis Assisi on the Bayou and went inside. The entryway walls were painted with bright, joyful depictions of Saint Francis with all of his animal friends and in its center a fountain sent happy splashing sounds into the room. We rang the bell and a man in a rough brown robe opened the door, giving us a Lurch type smile. “Can I help you?”
I stepped forward. “We’re here to see Lance P. Fenus.”
Snickering erupted behind me. I turned to glare at my friends, who all sported suspiciously neutral expressions.
“I believe Brother Fenus is in the garden. Shall I take you?”
I shook my head. “We know the way. Thanks.”
Inclining his head, the robed man stepped aside, indicating the hallway which I knew led to the expanse of grass, trees and water behind the monastery.
We emerged into the sizzling heat and I blinked at the sight before me. A cluster of brown robed men stood wringing their hands, an enormous gator lying peacefully in the sun several yards away.
But it wasn’t the sight of the monks that caused me to suck back and grab Cal’s arm. It was the big man standing a little distance away from them, an enormous, jagged-toothed knife in one big hand. He was easily seven feet tall with a thin brown ponytail and a patch over one eye. Beneath long nylon shorts, his left calf was misshapen, the muscle knotted and uneven from a gator bite.
Fortune came up beside me. “What’s Lyle Borne doing here?”
Cal had fixated on the enormous blade in Lyle’s hand and he was moving forward, no doubt intending to take Lyle down to save the monks.
“No. Wait.” I grabbed his hand. “Lyle’s a gator hunter.”
Cal’s Caribbean blue gaze widened in understanding.
Ida Belle looked at Gertie. “The bounty.”
“Of course.”
“Explain, please,” Cal said.
“The Blue Gator down the road holds a contest every year, offering $10,000 to the hunter who brings in the biggest gator.”
Gertie nodded. “Lyle’s come really close a couple of times but he never wins.” She jerked her head toward what I assumed was Aristotle. “That’s the biggest gator I’ve seen in years. If Lyle could bring him back he’d win for sure.”
I scanned the crowd of monks but didn’t see my father. “He’s not here.” I looked at Cal.
He did a quick scan of the robed men. “Okay, we’ll search the grounds.”
Before we could spread out and search, Lyle looked over and spotted us, his small eyes narrowing. Even from where I stood twenty yards away I could see his jaw tighten with rage. He probably still blamed me for his sister being arrested. And why wouldn’t he. I blamed myself every day.
I lifted a hand in what I hoped was a harmless but friendly greeting.
Unfortunately, Lyle’s hands formed into fists. He started toward us.
“Oh, oh,” Gertie murmured.
Cal stepped in front of me. Panic twisted my belly. Lyle had a big knife and Cal was only armed with good looks, brains and strength. I would never underestimate my intrepid PI in a fight but I was not going to be the cause of his getting hurt. I glanced at Gertie, nodding toward her oversized bag. “What have you got in there?”
She was already digging, her arm disappearing up to the shoulder in its vast depths. She pulled out a jar of water with a rag rubber-banded around it. “Water boarding, nah. Not helpful here.” She dropped that to the ground and dug in
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