Bayou Guardian

By Janet Breakfield

Wildlife photographer Olyvia Rayne has just learned of her Father’s death and must return to Pier Part, Louisiana to take care of his affairs. She hasn’t seen her father in over eleven years, having left the bayou with her Mother to live in Baton Rouge when she was fifteen. Now at twenty six, she hasn’t seen her high school friend Gunner Robichaux since she left. And he’s certainly changed. He’s now a tall, hot, mouth watering morsel. And he’s interested in her. Really interested to the point of obsession. But Oly is afraid to trust anyone. Especially a man she’s so attracted to. But Gunner has loved her all his life and will do anything to make her his.
What really floors Oly more than anything else is finding out that her father, Bolin Rayne, has left her with a healthy bank account and a steady income. This from a father she thought never even loved her. Little did she know, he did.
Gunner is the Alpha of the Loup Garou pack of Bayou Lafourche. Oly has no idea of what he’s offering her as his mate. The raw lust and passion Gunner is offering Olyvia terrifies her and she’s afraid to give herself over to him. And then there’s also the competition in the lovely wolf-bitch Kara. She will stop at nothing to become Gunner’s mate, even murder. She tries on several occasions to do just that. She burns Oly’s cabin down around her, kidnaps and beats her and nearly feeds her to the alligators. Olyvia only escapes because of the Watchers. A race of elf like creatures that can blend into the bark of the cypress trees. They are protectors of the bayou land along with the Loup Garou. Gunner rescues Oly with the Watchers help.
When Kara see’s she can’t succeed at destroying Olyvia, she goes after Oly’s best friend Gretchan. She kidnaps her, takes her to an abandoned sugar mill, and beats her just like she did Olyvia. But when Gunner, Olyvia and Cullen find Gretchan, the strangest thing happens. Cullen recognizes Gretchan as his mate. The Loup Garou finally subdue Kara and she is held a prisoner until the Blood Moon ritual that will make Olyvia Gunner’s mate. They will have open sex in front of all the pack and the Watchers. Olyvia will conceive and then afterward she’ll go through the shift for the first time into the half wolf/half human existence that is Loup Garou.
Bolin Rayne, Oly’s father, was buried by the cabin that Kara burned, in a wooden box on top of the ground. He had made a deal with the Watchers that traded Olyvia to the Alpha of the Loup Grou in exchange for an extended life as a Loup Garou. Also, with Gunner’s help he invested in oil companies and that’s where the money came from that he’s left Olyvia. He had terminal cancer and knew he was going to die. But a series of three bites transformed him also at the Blood Moon. He resurrected and to Olyvia shock was at the Blood Moon Ceremony. As Kara screamed at Olyvia as she became Gunner’s mate, Bolin turned on her a with one swipe of his claws, ripped Kara head from her shoulders.
In the end love wins the battle for supremacy. Olyvia has a second chance to reconnect with her father and spend an extended life with the love of her life, Gunner. As they run into the night after the ritual is complete, Olyvia knows in her heart that she made the right decision, and she and Gunner would love each other unconditionally.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brutal Image
• Release date: Nov 18, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301324804

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Bayou Guardian

By Janet Breakfield

Copyright 2012 Janet Breakfield

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 1

Olyvia

I’m so sorry about your Dad, Oly. my best friend Gretchan said as I packed my suitcase. .The phone call telling me that he had passed away had taken me by surprise, since I hadn’t seen or talked to him in over ten years. Heart attack, they had said. Thanks. But really it’s not like I even really knew him. He was gone most of my childhood, and then Mom and I left when I was a teenager." It was hard to feel something even resembling love for a man like Bolin Rayne. Nonetheless, I had to go and take care of the funeral and reading of the will. He didn’t have any other family.

Turning to open the dresser drawer, I asked Gretchan, Wanna come with me??

The look she gave me was grave, but stern. Her frown evident, she held her hands in front of her like a peace offering. You know I love you, but I don’t think I can take that much stinky swamp mud and nasty rednecks in Pierre Part. I’ll think I’ll just wait here patiently for you to come home if you don’t mind. I smiled at her. If I didn’t have to go, damn it, I wouldn’t either. I loved living in Baton Rouge. The city was home to me, especially since this was where I lived with Mom until she died six years ago. Her death still haunted me.

I should only be gone a week or so. Just enough time to settle the funeral and the estate. And if it’s anything like I remember, that won’t take long. Dad’s house, if you could call it that, was just a cabin set back in the bayou with swamp land on three sides. Not my cup of tea.

Want me to take this last suitcase out to your Hummer?? Yeah, thanks Gretchan. That is the last of it,. I laughed. You know I can’t pack for a short trip without most of my closet.

She grinned back. Yeah, you’re just a high maintenance hottie, aren’t ya. Sooo Gretchan.

My camera equipment was all I had left to pack. Being a wildlife photographer was not only my profession, but my passion. I didn’t particularly care for animals as pets, put I sure loved to photograph them. The large black bag that held most of my gear was already packed, but I needed to add some UV shields and a lens.

In about ten minutes, I was out the door and locking it behind me. Gretchan gave me a hug. I was feeling melancholy, so I was glad of her affection.

See you in a week, I told her as I got in my Hummer and left her waving form in the driveway as I departed for Pierre Part.

I didn’t know what the hell to expect when I got there, and that aggravated me more than anything. Nice and neat, that’s how I liked things in my life. No ripples in the waves. The choice to go wasn’t mine though, and that part pissed me off. I hadn’t realized I held as much resentment toward Dad as I did. At least this short trip would settle it once and for all, and I’d never have to see that God-forsaken swamp ever again.

It really wasn’t the swamp or the bayou that I hated. They were beautiful, and the photographic opportunities were endless. It was the strange feeling I always had there. Like being watched. A chill ran over my skin just thinking about it.

The sixty miles of road from Baton Rouge to Pierre Part was a straight shot down LA 1 and then LA 70. I didn’t get lost easily, since my job had taken me on trips all over the country, and some other parts of the world.

Why couldn’t I be anywhere else? I thought as I pushed my finger against my temple where a slight headache was starting to form.

The scenery was pretty much the same in Louisiana until you came to the backwoods where the bayous and swamp lands were. Then it was like stepping into another world. The people were different, the smell was different. It made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end for some reason. Sucking in a deep breath, I stilled my erratic emotions. Gripping the steering wheel harder, I centered myself and focused on the task at hand. No, I didn’t want to go back to the one place I had run from since I was fifteen, but at least now I would be forced to face my fears, my demons, and finally put an end to them.

Shaking the bad feeling away, I started feeling a little better. I took another look around. The road passed right through the small town of White Castle. There was a beautiful plantation house called Nottaway that I loved. It was a grand place to tour. Mom had taken me there when I was a little girl. The entry looked the same as I passed by. It was tempting to stop and take another tour, but I knew I had to meet the lawyer, Mr. Grindle, in a couple hours. He had the necessary paperwork to settle Dad’s property and funeral. With a sigh of regret, I passed on by Nottaway, making a mental note to stop on the way back.

When I pulled into Pierre Part, it looked exactly the same as when I had left eleven years ago. The population there was less than four thousand people. It really made me miss Baton Rouge. I parked in the small space in front of Mr. Grindle’s office. I sat there a few minutes to try and clear my head before I got out and went inside.

Painted a dull grey color with sagging shutters , the building wasn’t what I would call stately, but it sufficed for his needs, I guess.. The door was the only welcoming thing about it. It was antique-looking with stained glass pains and a shiny gold knob. I opened it and a woman who looked to be in her fifties, with curly gray hair and a thick waistline, said, Hello, may I help you?? She was smiling. Her pleasant countenance reminded me of Mom.

Yes, my name is Olyvia Rayne, and I’m here to see Mr. Grindle. Her smile disappeared.

We were real sorry to hear about your daddy, darlin’. He was a good man.

I couldn’t help it. The venom just rolled off my tongue when I said, No he wasn’t, but thank you anyway. She had the strangest look on her face, but didn’t elaborate as she pushed a button on her phone to tell the lawyer I was there. I wasn’t usually a rude person, but this whole situation was wearing on my last nerve.

A few minutes, later a short, fat man with a balding head came out of the back office. He looked to be about sixty with a hang-over pot belly. If it hadn’t been for the generous smile and friendly disposition her carried, he would have been downright creepy. Miss Olyvia, he said as he stuck his hand out to me.

I shook his hand. My friends call me Oly.

Very well, Oly. Come into my office. I followed him into a neat but plain office, with only a desk and two chairs. A worn picture of a bayou scene hung on the wall behind the desk. Other than that, the room was bare. He sure didn’t look much like a lawyer, nor did his office, but who was I to judge?

He sat down behind the desk and opened a large manila file. Ok Oly, I see here your daddy passed and left everything to you. He looked up to make sure I was following along, then continued. His estate wasn’t much. Just the house and land. He cleared his throat. Now, as far as your daddy’s burial… I pulled out my checkbook and readied my pen.

How much will it cost Mr. Grindle? He looked up at me over the rim of his reading glasses. Well, Ms. Olyvia, your daddy had that all taken care of before he died. You don’t owe a thing on the funeral.

I was a little stunned. It’s taken care of?? The shock was evident in my voice. But it was also evident on his face.

Sure did. And he left his will. You and I will be going over it after the funeral, but he left you everything.

Wow, I said sarcastically. Then I sobered. Where is Dad’s body now??

It’s at the funeral parlor. The funeral is scheduled for tomorrow. He had specific instructions that he be buried at ten in the morning. I have taken the liberty of making sure thearrangements were taken care of. I figured a young woman like you didn’t need that kind of task, especially with it being your daddy and all. Thoughtful.

Mr. Grindle, I hadn’t seen or heard from Bolin Rayne is eleven years. He didn’t respond, just stared at me. Damn it, I needed some air.

If that’s all, Mr. Grindle, I’m going out to the cabin and check things out. I’ll stay a few days to settle everything, then I’m heading back to Baton Rouge. He nodded, still looking stunned, as I got up and left.

The cabin sat on forty acres of swamp land. Dad was a trapper by trade, so the location was critical. I had always hated living in that cabin. The sounds of the bayou at night were not something I figured I’d ever get used to. It didn’t matter; I wouldn’t be there long enough to dredge up old ghosts.

It looked the same. Wooden planks ran vertically along the walls, with the cracks covered by wood battens. Windows with shutters looked out of the house like a pair of eyes. Rusty tin sheets of metal covered the roof, and if I remember correctly, they leaked. I got out and threw my bag over my shoulder. Shit, I don’t want to be here. And I sure didn’t want to stay in this run down, backwoods cabin. Too many bad memories.

The sun was starting to set as I made my way up the stairs to the porch. They still creaked when I took each step. It was familiar, but not comforting. The stench of dead animal filled my nose as I reached for the door. It wasn’t hard to find the culprit. A nutria rat hide hung in a tree limb right off the porch. Flies were swarming it and there was evidence of maggots as the wind carried the stench right across the porch. Gross.

Gretchan’s words from this morning went through my head. This was why she hadn’t wanted to come here. Damn, this was why I hadn’t wanted to come here.

After I pulled my heaving stomach back together, I pushed open the creaking front door. I figured I’d find a heaping nest of cobwebs and spiders, but to my surprise, it was clean. The tension in my shoulders relaxed a bit. At least I wouldn’t have to spend the next couple hours cleaning enough for me to stay there. I dropped my bag and headed back out to the Hummer to collect the rest of my luggage, including my camera equipment. Maybe after the funeral tomorrow I would have time to hike in the swamp and shoot a few photos. At least then the time I had to spend here wouldn’t be wasted. The beauty of the bayou land here was well worth the hike.

But first, I had to rid myself of the stench of that hanging abomination. So I collected a long stick,knocked the nutria hide down,then flung it into the nearby woods. At least now I wouldn’t be gagging when I walked out the door.

Finally, when I got everything inside, I flipped on the lights and pulled out my laptop and cell phone. At least I wouldn’t be cut off completely from the world out here in the middle of Timbukto. When they both were successfully charging, I went in the tiny kitchen and prayed he had left some coffee. I went through the cabinets and finally hit pay dirt. A bag of community coffee, still sealed, was on the last shelf. I opened it with a kitchen knife and stuck my nose in the top of the bag. It smelled divine. The best thing I’d smelled all day. Yeah, now we’re talking. Ten minutes later I was sitting on the back porch with my camera bag and coffee cup, looking at the swamp land. The red, blue and purple hues of sunset were breathtaking against the cypress trees in the distance. I pulled out my camera and snapped some shots of it before taking another sip of my coffee. There were some large white birds with long legs in the edge of the water catching tiny fish, while the mullet fish were jumping up out of the water. It was easy to see the bayou, since the water came up nearly to the back porch. I guess there were some things I missed about being here, but one thing I didn’t miss was that uneasy feeling I always had.

The evening air was getting cooler. It was late April… Warm during the day, but the nights tended to cool down. I watched until the last light of the fading sun rays were gone before going into the cabin to take a shower. All my stuff was in the spare bedroom. The one that used to be mine. The thought of sleeping in Dad’s bed turned my stomach. I went in the bathroom and found a pair of clean sheets that would fit the full size bed and put them on it. In a trunk at the foot of the bed was where the quilts were kept. I opened it up, took the largest one out and spread it across the bed before going to take a much needed shower.

I hung my black dress for the wake in the bathroom so the steam from the shower would take the wrinkles out. The hot water felt good against my skin, and in no time I had relaxed under the stream. My body felt like it was tied in knots. I needed to get a grip. I was in control now, nobody else. The thought made me feel better as I shut off the water and took a towel from the rack by the shower stall. By the time I dressed, got some more coffee, sent some necessary emails, and returned some calls, it was passed ten p.m. I wanted to look at the photographs of the sunset I’d taken earlier, but they would have to wait till later. Fatigue had me shutting off lights, locking doors and heading for the bed. A small lamp beside the bed and the numbers from my alarm clock were the only lights in the cabin. I nestled down in the bed and took a deep, cleansing breath. Tomorrow would finally end this and I could get back to my own life. The thought comforted me as I shut my eyes and tried to find sleep. The last thing I remembered before I went under was the wind howling around the cabin as