Siren's Treasure

A long rock guitar riff assaulted Landry’s ears as he entered the house.

“Hey,” he shouted. “Turn it down.”

Seth sprawled on the sofa, lost in the music, a crumpled bag of chips and half a sandwich by his side. Landry winced at the thought of meat grease staining the expensive leather.

He unplugged the cord and Seth jumped at the resulting quiet. “Wha—”

“Little loud for me. Is this what you’ve been doing all day?”

Seth sat up straight and stretched. “I got up about two o’clock, fixed a sandwich and listened to my iPod. Jeez, it’s so boring out here.”

“What do you usually do all day now you’re out of school?”

“Hang out with friends. You know.”

No, he didn’t know. He’d worked nights and summers since he was sixteen and put himself through college. And after college he’d been busy with his career. “What’s your game plan until summer school starts?”

Seth gave an elaborate shrug. “More of the same, I guess.”

The kid would drive him nuts. “We need to establish a few house rules.” Landry pointed to the food refuse. “Pick up after yourself and get in bed by midnight. Or at least turn the TV on low or read a book.”

“Read a book?” Seth snorted. “Yeah, this week is going to be a blast.”

Oh, hell, he could make more of an effort to be hospitable. A few days wasn’t forever. Landry regarded Seth’s bored, impassive features and sighed, trying to remember what he liked at that same age, besides the all-consuming testosterone-raging obsession with girls. He’d been a serious kid, always retreating from his noisy family and working jobs for some cash.

“How about a temporary job? I know a lady who might be interested in hiring you.”

Seth grimaced, as if tasting sour lemon. “Why would I want to do that?”

Right, whatever you want you can shoplift. “It’s not so bad. Be nice to have your own spending money.”

“Nothing I really need.”

“What about a car or money to take out a girl?”

“Don’t have a girlfriend and I could never save up enough for a car. Guess I’ll try to join my dad on the oil rigs in a couple of years. Might as well be a bum while I can.”

Landry thought quickly. “You could save up enough for a used car. Tell you what, whatever you save in the next six months, I’ll match it.”

It was easy to read the mistrust in Seth’s eyes. “Why would you do that?”

“You’re my brother.”

“Half brother,” Seth corrected. “And I haven’t seen much of you in the last few years.”

Landry fought down the guilt that flared in his gut. “You should take the job. She needs a temp to stock. There’s a shipment of goods coming in tomorrow, so she’d need you right away.”

“Oh, all right,” he said with a complete lack of enthusiasm. “I don’t see why she can’t do it herself, though. Is she old or something?”

Landry snorted. Jet Bosarge was the complete opposite of old and frail. “She’s younger than me by at least five or six years.”

“She your girlfriend?”

The question took him aback. Jet’s sharp features sprang to mind. She was way too...intense for his taste. There was a storm in her eyes, a tightness and electricity in her every move that was disturbing. Everything in her manner suggested a hard, unbending nature. Despite it, there was no denying most men probably found her type alluring. He wasn’t one of them. He liked women that were more nurturing with soft, curvy bodies that promised a hot night in bed. And out of bed, he wanted the kind of woman with whom he could relax at home on quiet evenings. God, he sounded like a chauvinist. No wonder he was single.

“Well?” Seth asked. “Is she your girlfriend or not?”

“Not. Definitely not. I only met her yesterday,” he said way too loudly, pushing aside the memory of how they had almost kissed in the shop. “And I need a favor. Don’t tell her I’m with the FBI. She thinks I’m an IRS auditor.”

Seth scowled. “Why’d you lie?”

“It’s not a lie—it’s an undercover job.”

“Uh-huh. So you want me to spy on her.”

Landry’s jaw tightened. “Of course not.” Did the kid think the worst of everybody? He hadn’t considered it but... “If you do see anything weird, you could let me know.”

Seth snatched up the chips bag and stalked toward the kitchen.

Landry followed him, picking up a used drinking glass and an empty box of crackers. “And speaking of weird—have you noticed anything unusual going on around the house?”

“No. What do you mean?”

Landry felt the back of his neck heat. “Like things not being where they’re supposed to be and strange noises. Stuff like that.” Seth’s blank face reminded Landry why it was always better to just keep his mouth shut. “Never mind. How about we go out? We could swing by Miss Bosarge’s house so she can meet you, and then go to Mobile for pizza and a movie.”

“I guess.”

His brother’s lack of enthusiasm was irritating, but at least he hadn’t refused. During the fifteen-minute ride to Jet’s, Landry looked at Bayou La Siryna with new eyes. Much as he appreciated the lonely, mysterious swampland, which suited his own loner nature, it didn’t offer much for a teenager. If Seth stayed the whole summer, he might lose his mind from boredom. Landry pulled into the Bosarge driveway, glad Perry’s Mustang was nowhere in sight.

“Cool house,” Seth commented, sliding out of the BMW. “She rich?”

“Yep. Her family has a whole lot more money than we’ll ever earn in our lifetime.” The thought rankled. Jet’s wealth was one of a dozen reasons why he shouldn’t get involved with her. They were from different planets. Everything he had, he’d earned through hard work and disciplined savings, while she’d been raised in a life of ease.

They walked up the steps onto the wraparound porch of the large Victorian home. Wicker rockers graced the open space and large ferns hung from wooden rafters. The place didn’t reflect Jet at all, much too girlie. He rapped on the pale blue door and waited.

Loveliness, incarnated in human form, opened the door. She had long blond hair, green eyes, perfect skin and full, lush lips. Seth sucked in his breath beside him and Landry smiled. This must be Jet’s cousin Shelly, because Jet’s sister, Lily, had been gone for months. Whereabouts unknown. “I’m here to see Jet,” he said.

Those ocean-green eyes widened a bit. She opened the door and waved them inside. Some thing—some mixture of rat, possum and hellhound—scrabbled his way over, barking and snarling.

“What is that?” he asked.

“Our dog, Rebel.” Shelly commanded him to sit and the thing complied.

Landry looked at him closer. “What’s wrong with him—besides the mange? He’s covered in cuts and scars.”

Shelly scratched his hairless ears. “He doesn’t have the mange. He’s a Chinese Crested Hairless. Jet and I rescued him. We found him tied to a tree where a group of kids were stoning him to death.”

“Glad you found him in time.” No creature, no matter how hideous, deserved that fate. He followed her into the den. “Nice place,” he commented. Now, this was more like Jet, especially the collection of swords over the fireplace. “I hope we haven’t come at a bad time.”