He moved, a subtle almost imperceptible step, gliding just a little closer to the baby. Her baby. She needed to get to the child and run for it. Disappear into the swamp. No one would be able to get to them there. No one. Not even this man.
Wyatt studied the beautiful face of the woman. She looked as if she’d stepped out of a picture frame. She didn’t belong in the swamp, a bloody shoulder marring that perfect skin. The baby inched closer to the woman. He took another couple of steps toward his grandmother.
Hold off comin’ in, boys. Let me get this under control. His grandmother was still far too close to the woman and he’d seen her move. He didn’t want Ezekiel and Malichai to spook her into doing anything stupid.
I can feel the threat to you, Wyatt, Ezekiel said. That woman is dangerous and so is the kid.
“I’m warnin’ you now, ma’am,” Wyatt said. “I’m not alone. I know you’re fast, but you’re wounded and so is the baby. You know what I am. I know you do. My two friends are like me, and there’s no way we can’t track you. I don’ want to hurt you or the kid. I just want to talk for a minute.”
Wyatt took another step that successfully put him closer to the child, almost between them. The baby let out a small hissing sound, somewhere between a baby’s cry and the hiss of a snake. The little toddler launched herself at him, running the couple of steps it took to the coffee table, leapt up on it and flung herself into the air.
The woman gave a horrified cry. “No ne mordent pas, bébé, ne mordent pas.” She threw herself between Wyatt and the child.
The baby bit into the woman’s arm, biting hard with her tiny baby teeth. At once she lifted her head, looking up at the woman with strange, too-old eyes – horrified at what she’d done. There were tears swimming in the baby’s eyes, but she didn’t cry aloud. She stayed perfectly still. Utterly still. For some reason, looking at the two of them broke Wyatt’s heart.
“Take the baby, please, Ms. Fontenot,” the woman instructed calmly. Too calmly. “Ginger, you go with Grand-mere.” Her tone changed to one of sternness. “You are not to bite for any reason, do you understand?”
Wyatt heard the subtle change in the woman’s breathing. He caught her arm, his heart pounding hard. “Wait, Nonny. Don’ touch that child.” He turned the woman’s arm over and examined the wounds. “She’s venomous, isn’t she?”
The woman nodded reluctantly. “She’s just a baby. She doesn’t mean to hurt anyone. She doesn’t bite out of meanness. She was afraid.” The woman stayed calm, although he felt her accelerated pulse. “Please allow your grandmother to hold her and comfort her. She knows what she did was wrong and she won’t do it again.”
Wyatt glanced down at the child. Tears trickled down her face. It felt obscene to be looking at a baby who was so completely alone.
“Her name is Ginger. She’s only seventeen months old and her life has been hell. She’s afraid of everyone but me. Please, please take care of her.”
“I’m not afraid, Wyatt,” Nonny insisted. “Come here, baby.” She held out her arms to the child.
The woman leaned over to brush a kiss on the baby’s forehead. “It’s all right. Go with her, Ginger. They aren’t going to hurt you. Remember, I told you about the nice lady who left us food and the blanket for you?” She lifted her head to look at Nonny, avoiding Wyatt’s gaze. “She can’t stay warm unless she’s in the sun. You have to keep her warm.”
“No. Don’ you touch that child, Nonny.” Much to his consternation, his voice came out a snarling command. Fear could do that to one. He took a breath and tried again. “She’s dangerous. Her bite is dangerous. Trust me on this, Grand-mere, she’s as dangerous as the snakes here in the bayou.”
Nonny made a single sound and all three pairs of eyes immediately went to her. He’d heard that sound a few times when he’d been a young boy, mainly when he was out of control and she was about to come down hard on him.
“This is still my home, Wyatt Fontenot, and I still make my own decisions. Tha’s a baby, and in this house, as long as I own it, we take care of the children. Snakes and alligators don’ bother me. I’m not afraid of her. She’s terrified. Can’ you see that? Someone shot an enfant. Tha’s who you should save your anger for.”
“I can’ take the chance of you gettin’ hurt, Nonny,” Wyatt said, much quieter. He knew that tone, the set of her shoulders. She was not going to back down. He was fighting a losing battle.
“It isn’ your choice,” Nonny said firmly. She held out her arms to the child. “Come here to me, Ginger. I’ll keep you safe.”
The child looked to the woman, who nodded slowly.