Bayou Justice by Robin Caroll Page A

bar.
    â€œYeah, I know how Sadie says hello.” Tara flipped her hair over her shoulder. “The whole town knows how Sadie greets men.”
    â€œThat’s not fair.”
    â€œIsn’t it?” She raised one eyebrow again. “Shocking, really, to find Mr. Religion hanging out in a bar with a woman of, oh, let’s just say, loose morals.” She made a tsk with her tongue. “I wonder what CoCo will think.”
    Heat infused his chest. “Just because I know God intimately, Tara, doesn’t mean I condemn others who don’t.”
    â€œLike you did with CoCo?”
    Touché. Yes, her sister had definitely taught her well.
    â€œNeed another cola?” Mike interjected.
    Luc shook his head. “No, merci. I’m about to head home. Just need my sax.”
    The bartender passed his case over the bar to him. “See you next week?”
    â€œMaybe.” Luc faced Tara. “Always a pleasure to see you, Tara.”
    She threw back her head and chuckled. “I’m sure it is.” She stopped laughing and leaned next to him—close enough he could feel her words on his cheek. “Just remember this, Luc Trahan, if you hurt my sister again, you’ll have to deal with me.”
    He smiled down at her. “Is that so?”
    â€œThat’s so.” She gave a grin that hinted at something in the corners. Something he couldn’t quite make out. “And trust me, there’s no place you can hide that the spirits I send after you can’t find.”
    Her sister had taught her well, indeed.

    CoCo tossed her shorts at the laundry hamper and missed. A clank echoed on the bathroom’s tile floor. For a moment, she was confused. Then she reached for what had fallen from her pocket.
    Talking with Alyssa, or should she say, getting an earful from her sister had caused her to totally forget about the coin she’d found. Now she studied the metal doubloon. It looked like a genuine Confederate coin, but she couldn’t be sure. She’d have to take it to be inspected. What if it was the real deal? How’d it end up under her rosebush?
    She combed her wet-from-the-shower hair free of tangles and then brushed her teeth, all the while staring at the coin. What did it mean? How did it get in her yard? She tightened the sash of her tattered terrycloth robe, admonishing her runaway imagination. It was probably just a replica, something left over from Mardi Gras.
    With a sigh, CoCo shoved it in her pocket, flipped off the bathroom light and marched into the hallway.
    And ran smack into her sister.
    â€œTara!” She jumped back against the wall, her hand to her chest. “You scared me silly.”
    Her sister laughed.
    CoCo leaned forward and took a whiff of Tara. The stench of cigarette smoke clung to her sister like lichen to the cypress trees. “Have you been smoking?”
    â€œNo, of course not.” Tara narrowed her eyes. “If I had, it wouldn’t be any concern of yours.”
    The rebellious imp had taken over her sister’s body again. “I just noticed you smelled like an ashtray, that’s all.”
    â€œI was down at the jazz club.”
    CoCo moved past her sister toward the kitchen. She opened the icebox, in search of a cold canned drink. “Oh.” The liquid did nothing to put out the fire burning in her chest.
    Tara followed on her heels. “No comment?”
    If CoCo made a big deal about Tara’s outing to a bar, her sister would turn on her. As much as it hurt, CoCo shrugged and acted as if it didn’t matter, then took another long sip of soda. “None of my business, right?”
    â€œThen I guess you don’t care who I saw sitting at the bar with Sadie Thompson hanging all over him…” Tara dug her hip into the counter.
    No. Not Luc. Not Sadie. Tara had to be teasing, or mistaken. Don’t say it, don’t say it…
    â€œI don’t know, who?” She finished