Page 32 of Carnival Queen

Vince nodded, taking the women and leading them toward the SUVs parked beneath the dark canopy of trees to the side of the parking lot.

Staff pushed the patrons toward the front door as another man pushed his way toward the curtained area. Whiskey knew exactly who he was. Shoving the curtain aside, he looked around the room.

“Fuck! Where are you, you little whores? Come out, come out,” he laughed.

“They don’t want to come out,” smirked Whiskey. “They’re done playing.”

“Who the fuck do you think you are?”

“Me? No one important,” he smiled. Gripping the fire extinguisher, he slapped it against the side of the man’s head, then zip-tied him to an old pipe against the wall. “I’ve got one out. But there’s another one somewhere.”

“I’ve got her,” said Vince. “She’ll be tied next to your boy backstage.”

“Where are the girls?”

“Safe. Just finish the job.”

Stepping back into the main room of the club, he looked around to be sure that no one was still in the building. When Miller popped up from behind the bar with a smile on his face, they knew it was all done.

“Amazing how fast alcohol can go up in flames,” he smiled. “People ignore the simplest shit.”

“Let’s go. We’ve got vehicles full of naked girls we’re going to need to get to safety.”

“Evie’s waiting at the airstrip to take them off your hands so you can move on.”

The voice of Code was a sweet thing to hear. Whiskey turned to Antoine, nodding at him.

“Get the girls to the airstrip. We’ll meet you there to get to the next club.”

As they started to pull out of the parking lot, the men who’d been evacuated looked back at the building. Not seeing any flames, they began to walk toward it, thinking it was a false alarm. It was not.

Splinters of wood, metal, and glass rained down on the parking lot as men turned and ran toward their pickup trucks, no doubt to get the hell out of there. If their precious vehicles were damaged, how in the world would they explain that to their wives or girlfriends?

“Nice work,” smirked Whiskey.

“Thank you. I like to think I could have done better, but I always feel so rushed. If they all look like that one, it will be an easy night. What about the girls? How were they?”

“I think they were all drugged, brother. Some didn’t look to be more than fourteen or fifteen years old. None of them were over twenty. But I did find this little clue in the pocket of the asshole I nailed with the extinguisher.”

He handed the paper to Whiskey, who turned on the reading light in the SUV. It was an itinerary.

“Georgetown, Guyana to New Orleans, Louisiana,” he smiled. “Looks like we’re getting unexpected company.”

“Looks that way. Unfortunately for them, we’ll be ready.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

The next two clubs were identical to the one they’d just blown up. Apparently, no one had been notified of the issues yet. Of course, in fairness, there was no one left to call, and any officials were most likely sound asleep.

It was more than obvious that all they did was slap up a large building, build a stage and small backstage area, and a bar. In one building, there were tiny rooms with cots where the women could make extra money. If they wanted to, according to the bouncer.

He was the first one Antoine killed.

The fourth club of the night was the one closest to New Orleans. By law, it should have already been closed since it was after 0300. Instead, they found it alive and jumping with dozens of men and women inside the place.

What disappointed the men most was that this one was in their own backyard. Only twenty-three miles from Belle Fleur, out in the most rural parts of South Louisiana, it was attracting men from the docks, oil rigs, and everywhere in between. They knew this one was different for one major reason. There were three doors instead of two. One at the front, one at the back, and one on the side close to the parking lot where two similar luxury cars were parked, just like all the others. They must give the assholes company cars.

What also made it different were four bouncers at the door and four inside.

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