Page 105 of Bourbon & Blood

In the meantime, we had our hired gun to deal with – an’ he’d proven to be almost as much of a pain in the ass than pinnin’ the tale on daddy dearest.

That there boy up with the Sacred Hearts was one crafty ass motherfucker. He had found our killer out there with one of those paramilitary outfits in Texas. You know the type. God and country, humpin’ the stars ‘n bars like it was his sister on a Friday night under the bleachers durin’ homecoming. They were way out there in the middle of fuckin’ nowhere, buildin’ their bunkers and makin’ ready for the next civil war, or the end of the world, or some shit.

So, the question became, how to get the motherfucker back on our turf?

Seemed our boy out in Florida and his boy up in Kentucky had an idea or three on that and when my burner rang, I’d got to it just in time before it cut off.

“Radar, how you doin’ brother?” I’d asked.

“Good, I’m good. You ready to take on Texas Hitboy?” he asked and I grinned savagely.

“My friend, I don’t think you know just how ready we are…”

Setting things up was almost too easy after that.

On my end, it just involved greasin’ some palms out at that little bar ‘n grill I’d taken my little Alina too, the night I’d first taken her on out to my place an’ made love to her.

Seems our inside man up north had been trackin’ our boy’s emails and he’d had a meet set up with a potential client out this way. A little computer magic that way above our paygrade, and dude was bein’ diverted from his real meet right into our clutches.

It was a little too easy, you ask me – but I guess I was just an old-fashioned guy that way.

It was me and the rest of my boys all here. Makin’ shit look good, the parking lot a healthy mix of bikes and cages – and of course the van if we needed it.

We was on the opposite side of the city from our usual go-to of the Smokehouse and the Atchafalaya Basin, so some of the boys were a little outside their comfort zone… that bein’ said, I was right at home. This was my swamp, and my people in it. I had all the control and then some.

Cypress was right along me with the notion, having grown up in the same area of Bayou Black.

By all appearances, it was a normal weeknight at Chaffee’s, the jukebox loud, the requisite number of local patrons, and nothin’ weird about it. Nice equal mix of man and woman. Fisher folk an’ hunters.

We all knew the outsider when he showed his face and none let on that he was the only outsider among us. He went up to the hostess and asked after the name of his client for the reservation; but his client wasn’t what he got.

He was brought on over to the booth I’d shared with my little Alina that first night of ours together; and I thought that was fitting. He knew the jig was up as soon as Hettie, our hostess, stopped by the table and he saw me sittin’ here. He huffed a laugh and shook his head.

“You ain’t Crowley,” he said in a thick Texas drawl.

“Have a seat,” I told him. “Let’s talk.”

“Alright, now,” he slid into the booth across from me. “Who are ya, and why you got me here?”

I slid a picture of Maya and my girl across the table at him.

“Oooooh,” he nodded, tapping a finger on Maya’s face. “I remember her. Hard to forget. She was feisty. Kicked me so hard she dislocated my fuckin’ knee. That shit still ain’t right.”

“She did a lot more ‘n that,” I declared. “She’s the reason you fixin’ to die tonight, boy,”

He was laughing,for now…

“And just what you gon’ do in a crowded bar full of people, boy?”

I raised my hand and snapped my fingers. The music cut, and chairs and barstools scraped as everyone stood up at once.

Melodramatic? Maybe, but Hex was right. It sure was a lot of fun the way the smirk was wiped right off his fuckin’ face.

The locals started clearing out. Their own faces either grim or expressionless, until all that was left was me an’ my boys. Well, me an’ my boys minus Louis who’d volunteered to collect my woman and see her safely home.

Jacob Landry, real name, Grayson McIntyre, crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his seat.

“Well damn,” he said and he was tryin’ not to look scared, but the sweat beading at his temple and along his upper lip gave him away.

---