Chapter 59

Beau

We all stopped in our tracks. Jaws slack as her picture came up on the screen in one of those lacey poor excuses for a dress she had talked about. She was younger, the white lace tight to the narrow pinch of her midsection snug to the flare of the curve of her hips, with a slit so high I doubted she was wearing underwear. The heels of her shoes were so tall and narrow it was a wonder how she could stand. Her cleavage defied gravity as it strained against the sweetheart neckline, where her hair cascaded in soft waves over her shoulders. Eyes looking down, lost, empty, her face reserved, resigned. That girl looked like death walking compared to the woman who now resided at home.

I vaguely remembered Louis muttering shit. And a sharp whining sound in my head before old man Beauregard poked me with his cane. "Move along Reds, lines moving.

"Those of us in the pack have been referred to as Reds or Rouges by the locals for as long as we can remember, they didn't know or chose to fo