Page 22 of Killer Moonshine

“None of your fucking business,” said the man, standing from his seat.

He pushed off the ball cap, and the two men stared at him. Easily six-feet-four, maybe taller, with sprinklings of white hair mixed with dark. They weren’t sure why, but they had a feeling this man wasn’t helpless at all.

“What did you say, old man?” asked Manuel. “Do you have any fucking idea who we are? Who Mr. Hugo is?”

“Yes,” growled the voice behind them. “Dead men.”

Manuel and Johnny turned, staring at a dark face, the hissing at their feet forcing them not to move. The alligator looked hungry and angry. Not a good combination.

“You don’t seem to have much to say,” said Antoine, staring at the two men.

“You’ve fucked with the wrong people, mister. That girl owes Mr. Hugo money, and this property will belong to him,” said Manuel, trying to appear strong and unfazed, but the truth was he was pissing his pants.

“I don’t think so,” smirked Antoine. He slapped an envelope against the man’s chest, waiting for him to grab it. “You take that to Mr. Hugo and let him know that Lydia no longer owns this property. It is now the property of Robicheaux Oil and Gas and will be worked by said company. If he sets one foot out here, we will sue and have him arrested for trespassing.”

“That’s if Alvin doesn’t eat him first,” said Trak.

“Oooeee,” said one of the men at the table, laughing. “You done messed with the wrong folks.”

“What does he mean by that?” asked Johnny.

“I mean, ‘dem Robicheaux boys don’t take no shit. Matt-chew, he owns ‘bout half the state now, I ‘spect. If he owns ‘dis land, you outta luck, city boy.” The old man chuckled, standing from the table. The others followed.

“I guess we be lookin’ for another bar, right, Shorty,” laughed another man.

“I ‘spect we will.”

“Wait! Don’t leave,” said Johnny. He started to move, but Alvin gave a very definitive growl and hiss, letting him know that he wasn’t going to move. “What the hell is this? Is that gator gonna eat one of us?”

“He is hungry,” said Trak. “But we need one of you alive to let Hugo know he won’t win this fight.”

“Mister, I’m happy to deliver whatever message you want, but just know that Mr. Hugo wins every fight he’s ever been in. He’s a highly decorated former Marine.” Trak and Antoine both raised their eyebrows.

“Is that so? I find that hard to believe when there is no one by the name of Cassius Hugo in any database. If he were a decorated Marine, that would have shown up. So, whatever your boss has told you is a lie. Or. Or, that’s not his real name.”

The two men stared at one another, doubt filling their features, still afraid to move because of Alvin. Just when they thought they might catch a break, an explosion rocked the swamp, flames licking the sky just as rain began to come down. Miller appeared inside the tiny bar, smiling.

“Nicely done,” said Trak.

“Timed perfectly with the rain. The still is destroyed. So are the ingredients. Now it’s time for you boys to leave.”

“Who the fuck are you guys?” Miller looked at his brother, then at Trak, and finally down at the salivating Alvin.

“We’re justice.”

“We’re justice?” smirked Antoine.

“It sounded good at the time. Alvin must have been very hungry. I was hoping to pin the deed notice and our little love letter to that guy’s sleeve. I had to use his chest.

“He seems to be more aggressive when he knows that men have done bad deeds. He’s much like a good K-9 who can smell evil.” Trak scratched the top of Alvin’s head and then watched as the gator pushed himself out of the boat and into the swamp, swimming alongside them.

“How is Lydia?” asked Antoine.

“She is confused, but she is well.”

“And the stepfather? Did you have anything to do with that?” asked Miller.

“He was a bad man undeserving of life or a daughter. Sometimes, we must take these things into our own hands. I’m older now and have less patience.”

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