Page 25 of Bourbon & Blood

“I ain’t askin’,” he said. “I’m tellin’ ya, you ain’t goin’ by yerself. You the president now, my friend – and the president ain’t go nowhere without his entourage.”

I snorted and spit on the floor. “Fuck all that shit,” I said. “I’m perfectly capable of handlin’ myself.”

“Oh, I know it,” he agreed. “But need I remind you just what you signed up for when you accepted the position you’re in?”

“No,” I grunted. “You ain’t gotta.”

“Missin’ the good ol’ days?” he asked.

“Ain’t nothin’ good about any of my days,” I told him and he huffed a laugh.

“Hmph! There you go, always a bowl of fuckin’ roses,” he said with dry humor.

I just grunted non-committedly in return and watched the general fuckery in front of us.

“Take Axeman or Cypress with you,” Hex said judiciously.

“I see Axe all the time, man. It’s been a minute since I been around Cy.”

Hex looked over and up at me and nodded slow. “Now you’re gettin’ it,” he said, and I frowned at him.

Sometimes he had a way of thinkin’ he was the smartest man in here. One of these days, it was gonna lead him into makin’ a serious mistake, underestimatin’ another man at the wrong time and in the wrong way. I wasn’t no dummy, but I sure as shit didn’t see things the same way he did. Still, this time around, him actin’ smarter ‘n me rankled me a bit.

“Cypress!” I called out, and he looked over. I jerked my head in my direction and he passed off his beer and headed my way.

“How drunk are ya?” I asked, and he shook his head the same time he shrugged.

“I’m not,” he declared.

“Good.” I gave him a sage nod, once up, once down, and turned to leave.

I heard Hex bark a laugh behind me and he told Cy, “Why you been voluntold there, good buddy. I wouldn’t leave the man waitin’ if I were you.”

Cy pulled up even with me just before we got to the door.

“Where we goin’?” he asked, and I slid my gaze up to him, the bastard a head taller ‘n me for which I was damn jealous.

I said, “That’s for me to know an’ you to find out.”

He grinned sheepishly and shook his head but didn’t ask anymore dumb questions.

We rode out to the edge of the swamp, and took a deep-woods track on in from the main road. It was dangerous, riding along it, so we only went as far as to keep the bikes hidden from the main road and walked in the rest of the way.

What we called the Smokehouse wasn’t much to look at. A shack, really, just up the bank at the edge of the water. Hidden. On private property that belonged to a shell company. Untraceable, which is exactly what we needed it to be.

“We comin’ out here for a reason, boss?” Cy asked nervously, stopping just inside sight of the bikes.

“We got some business to finish with the man that stuck Louie,” I said and Cypress visibly relaxed.

“Oh, hey… good, that’s good,” he said, and I eyed him.

“Guilty conscience?” I asked, and he practically blanched.

“No way! Why would you ask that?” he demanded.

“Lookin’ nervous is all,” I said evenly.

“Can y’ blame me?” he asked with a hint of consternation. I searched his face in the dappled moonlight, the trees shifting in the light breeze, causing the shadows to shift across his face.

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