Page 6 of Xavier

Into trouble.

Besides, he wasn’t looking, and she’d been in prison.

He didn’t need to make more bad decisions.

Xavier’s cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out and frowned at the name on the screen. He glanced across at Remy. “Thanks for the sendoff. If you don’t mind, I’ll call it a night.”

“Your new boss calling?” Remy asked.

“Yes, sir.” Xavier held up his phone. “I need to take this call.”

Remy nodded. “You’re still with us for the week. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Thanks.” Xavier rose and answered the call on his way to the door. “Xander speaking,” he said as he stepped out into the balmy night air.

“Xander,” Colonel Grant Jeffries said into his ear, his tone professional but friendly. “Just checking in. I’m not calling too late, am I?”

“Not at all,” Xavier said as he strode for his truck. “I’m on my way to my quarters. What can I do for you?”

“Nothing. I would’ve called earlier, but I got caught up in meetings,” the colonel said. “I take it you turned in your resignation?”

“I did,” Xavier said as he slid behind the wheel and paused before starting the engine.

“Any pushback?”

“No. Montagne’s a good guy.”

“Good. I need you to stand up the training billet at the firm and be ready for when they pin on my star.”

“I’ll be ready, sir.”

“Good. I’m counting on it,” Jeffries said. “I’ll be in touch. Out here.” He ended the call before Xavier could respond.

He set the cell phone in the cup holder, started the engine, and pulled out of the parking lot, heading toward Bayou Mambaloa. He’d been in town for nearly two years and still lived in the boarding house Remy had set up as temporary quarters for members of the Bayou Brotherhood Protectors when they’d established their branch in Louisiana. Some of the team had found other lodging since then.

Not Xavier. He’d never put down enough roots to want to secure more permanent living arrangements.

As he turned onto Main Street, movement a couple blocks ahead made him lift his foot off the accelerator.

A woman stepped out of one of the stores and turned to lock the building.

Two men sprang from the side alley and rushed toward the woman. She swung the canvas bag she’d been carrying, hitting one of the men in the face.

He yelped, grabbed the bag and tried to yank it from her hands.

She held on. The bag tore, and something fell out. When she dove after the item, they grabbed her arms and dragged her back into the alley with what was left of the bag.

Xavier’s heart leaped in his chest and sent his pulse pounding hard through his veins. He slammed his foot onto the accelerator and raced toward the alley.

He pulled the steering wheel hard to the left, the back of his truck fishtailing on the pavement. When it straightened, he drove into the empty alley and emerged behind the store where the men were lifting the woman off her feet and shoving her toward the open side door of a van.

The woman planted her feet on the door frame, refusing to get in, the torn bag dangling from her elbow.

Xavier smashed his fist on the horn.

The men shot glares over their shoulders and shoved the woman harder.

Xavier shifted into park, flung open his door, leaped out and ran toward the two men.