Remy woke up to the sound of Lisa laughing and the smell of bacon. Damn. That was the perfect way to wake up. He sighed and turned on his side, looking at the place where she’d lain next to him all night. Well, when he hadn’t been on top of her. Or under her.

His cell phone trilled. He glanced at the clock, a bit surprised he’d slept in. It was almost eight thirty. He didn’t have to be in the office since he was already on duty, but he usually woke up before his alarm went off.

Something about sleeping wrapped around Lisa’s petite body had been good for his beauty rest.

He picked up the phone and answered quickly because the number was familiar. “Momma?”

“No, it’s Seraphina, big brother,” a female voice said. “Momma is at church praying for your soul. Like she does every Wednesday morning. And Sunday. And Friday. And those are merely the Catholic services. I won’t tell you about the hoodoo priestess she meets with every Thursday.”

She didn’t need to. His momma told him enough. “How is Miss Marcelle? She still running that hair salon of hers?”

“I’m telling you that woman doesn’t age. She’s got to be a hundred and ten and she’s still scaring the shit out of tourists with those snakes of hers. Her daughter, Sylvie, and I have regular therapy sessions. Well, we drink a lot of vodka and wonder what it would be like to have normal mothers. You know, the kind who don’t come up with plans to haunt the new nail salon and run it out of business. Momma dressed up and everything. I’m fairly certain there’s a lawsuit brewing there.”

So everything was the same in Papillon. “You know she’s always had odd notions about how to protect her town.”

“I don’t trust Jean-Claude, Remy. He’s up to no good and I think it has something to do with you buying him out.”

He yawned. “I signed the papers of intent. I’ve got forty-five days to come up with the money. The bank here is going to approve the loan and everything’s going to be smooth sailing from there. We’ll have the wharf safely back where it belongs and a mountain of debt over our heads. It’ll be just like the old days.”

“Then why is he still meeting with that slick as snot developer?” Seraphina asked. “I was in New Orleans yesterday visiting a friend. He doesn’t know I saw him having lunch with that same city ass who came through a couple of months ago telling everyone he would buy up their land.”