Page 19 of Beau
“They aren’t seeing what I’m seeing,” she said. “The companies do just enough to cover their tracks while the EPA agents are there, then they go back to their destructive ways once the agents’ backs are turned.”
“What has happened recently that would make someone come after you with such a vengeance?”
Aurelie shrugged. “That’s what’s crazy. My work hasn’t shut down anyone recently.”
Beau frowned. “When did you start getting death threats?”
“I got the first one two weeks ago.”
“Did anything in your life happen two weeks ago that might’ve triggered the hate?”
She shook her head. “I’ve been busy with my father’s campaign since he formally announced his run for reelection. He was teetering on a decision to retire but finally decided he was all in for another term.”
“When did he make the formal announcement?”
“Three weeks ago, give or take a day or two.” Her brow furrowed. “You think the death threats against me have to do with my father’s reelection?”
“The timing seems to indicate it could be.”
“But why go after me?” She held up a hand. “Not that I’d want them to target my father. But if someone doesn’t want my father to run, you’d think they’d go after him.”
“Would that be too obvious?” Beau suggested. “Who’s his opponent?”
“Jason Gousman,” Aurelie said. “He’s a corporate attorney out of New Orleans, running on a bring-more-jobs to Louisiana platform. He’s younger than my father, good-looking and charismatic, but youth, looks and charisma aren’t everything.”
“Sometimes, it is,” Beau said. “Especially if the voters are bombarded with his name and face in advertisements.”
Aurelie sighed. “And it’s our job to educate the voters about what they’re getting in my father. Gousman has only worked for major corporations. He claims it makes him perfect for negotiating deals to move production facilities into the state. He doesn’t have a track record for public works or representing the people like my father does.”
“It can be an uphill battle to educate voters who are more worried about paying the rent than getting out to vote.”
“I know.” Her lips pressed together. “Though our work to preserve the natural resources has caused some job loss, my father has brokered deals with major corporations to bring their foreign operations to the state. He’s worked to get them tax incentives while they’re establishing their operations. They brought jobs. Employed Louisianans.”
Beau laughed. “You’re preaching to the choir.” He slowed to a stop and shifted into park in front of the boarding house. Hank Patterson, the founder of the Brotherhood Protectors, had purchased it to provide temporary housing for the new team of men hired to staff the Bayou division. It gave them and new hires a place to live until they could secure more permanent lodging. “We’re here.”
Aurelie sat up. “You weren’t kidding when you said you were staying at a boarding house. It looks like something out of the early nineteen hundreds.”
“Probably because it is.” He pushed open his door and dropped to the ground. Aurelie met him in front of the truck and walked with him to the front entrance. “How many people live here?”
“Six, at last count.”
“Male-female ratio?” she questioned.
“All men.”
She stopped and faced him. “Is this going to be a problem bringing a woman into an all-male boarding house?”
“It’s only all-male because there aren’t any women renting rooms here at this time.” Which was one hundred percent true. He didn’t tell her that the men all worked for the Brotherhood Protectors. Hopefully, he wouldn’t run into any of them. If he did, they might blow his cover. He would talk with Senator Anderson tomorrow and see if he would reconsider telling his daughter why Beau Boyette was following her around like a shadow. Lying by omission was as bad as bold-faced lying, and the longer it went on, the madder Aurelie would be when she found out.
“It’s just for the night.” He opened the door and held it for Aurelie. “We’ll find suitable accommodations for you tomorrow.”
Her frown remained, denting her forehead with her displeasure.
Beau couldn’t blame her. A lone female in a house full of six men was enough to make any woman want to turn around and run.
“I’ll make sure no one bothers you,” he whispered as they entered the foyer. “Including me.” He cupped her elbow gently, led her up the staircase to the second level and turned right. His room was the last one on the left. They made it all the way to his door before the door they’d just passed opened.
His teammate, Rafael Romero, poked his head out. “I thought I heard someone.” He grinned, his eyebrows rising. “Well, well. Who do we have here?” He came out of his room wearing a black T-shirt, gym shorts and nothing else. A strand of black hair fell over his forehead, giving him a rakish charm.