Page 17 of Killer Moonshine

“He’s gonna be pissed, and he’s going to make me pay back everything, and then he’s going to steal my land. It’s my land.”

“What do you mean?” asked Ghost. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she mumbled something, then she was asleep.

“Let her rest,” said Trak. “I’ll stay with her until you find out more.”

“And then?” asked Nine.

“And then, I hunt.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“The still in Bayou George blew up,” said his bodyguard, waiting for the man to scream at him. “I went out there to collect the rent, and it was gone, all of it. The place was unlocked, and no one was there.”

“Where is the fucking girl?” he growled.

“Probably dead. There was blood everywhere and heavy tracks toward the water. I’m guessing she was dragged away by a gator.”

“You’d better be right. If she’s alive, she’ll talk. I want my money back. Find out if she put it in a bank or sent it to someone.” The man nodded, leaving the room.

Hugo stared at the sheets in front of him. He hated finance, and he hated balancing books more than anything. He didn’t worry about taxes. At least, not yet. Once the businesses were off the ground, he’d play along with them being legitimate and pay his taxes like a good man.

“Boss? Mr. Sumrall is here.”

“Good. Send him in.”

Hugo stood, straightening his jacket and stiffening his back. He liked to pretend he was taller than he actually was. The expertly cut suits and lifts in his shoes helped, but he wanted people to feel inferior to him. He’d mastered the techniques for fooling people into believing that he was something he was not.

You could call it lying or smoke and mirrors. He didn’t care. He was adept at making others believe that he was capable of anything.

“Afternoon, Mr. Hugo,” said the man, running his fingers over the bill of his hat in his hand.

“Have a seat, Yaz,” said Hugo.

“Mr. Hugo, I’ll get you the money. It’s just been real slow,” he said, shaking his head. Hugo held up his hand, visually telling the man to stop.

“Yaz, you and I both know that’s a lie. You’ve been packed out there every night this week. You even brought in those girls to mud wrestle. Smart idea. That brought in all the oil workers to watch and wager. You could pay me from that money,” he said calmly.

“I-I didn’t bring them in. They sorta just came out and said they wanted a place to do it. The girls earn the money. Not me.”

“You get a cut, Yaz. I know you do. You owe me for the still. I want my money, or I take the still, take the bar, take your house, and let’s not forget, I get your daughter.”

“She’s just twelve,” he said, shaking.

“She’s twelve now,” smirked Hugo, “but she’ll be a teenager soon enough. She likes to dance. I’ve seen her on camera dancing and swaying. Looks a lot like her mama did.”

“Don’t. Don’t talk about her mama. I let you take her from me, but you’re not takin’ my girl from me.”

“You let me? Not letting me? Oh, Yaz, you really don’t get this, do you? I do whatever the fuck I want, to who I want, when I want. You don’tletme do anything. Your whore of a wife was more than happy to warm my bed for a little extra money and moonshine. She sure got hooked on that shit fast. I wonder if your little girl likes the taste?” he laughed.

Yaz stood, sweeping his arm across the desk, everything flying across the room. The bodyguard behind him gripped his shoulders, shoving him into the chair.

“Stay away from my little girl,” said Yaz. “I’ll put up with whatever you dish out, but you will not touch my child.”

“Give me my money,” Hugo smiled.

“You know I don’t have that kind of money. It’s going to take longer for me to get that kind of money.”

“You should have thought of that before going into business with me,” he smiled. “You owe for the still, the components, the ingredients used to make the moonshine, transportation costs, and, of course, the room and board for your lovely wife when she left you to live with me.”

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