Page 90 of Cognac Secrets

I could hear him washing up and grunting out yes or no answers to LaCroix on the other end of the line.

When he came out, it was wearing nothing but an apologetic look on his face. I sighed.

“It’s fine,” I said, and I meant it. “This won’t be forever unless you get yourself shot or something, which I worry about,” I confessed. “So I need to you handle whatever it is out there that needs handled quickly and efficiently so that you can come back to me safely.”

He stopped and crawled back up the bed saying, “God damn, I love you, Sandrine.”

“I love you, too,” I said and we kissed, long and lingering.

“Okay, I’ve got to go, hold that thought – I’ll be back to make good on it later. You better get some sleep and be ready for me when I get home.”

I smiled and laughed, and reluctantly let him go.

“Be safe,” I intoned as he went to go out the bedroom door.

He turned back to me and smiled, “For you? Always. I’m not going to leave you, under any circumstances.”

I glowed when he said things like that.

“I love you,” he said.

I smiled bigger and said, “I love you, too. So much.” Then, he was gone.

I sighed and flopped back into the pillows.

“So much,” I whispered at the ceiling.

CHAPTERTHIRTY-ONE

Bennie…

We were out in the middle of fuckin’ nowhere, but we had to be where no one would hear this fuckwit screaming and where we could all gather. That was one of the great things about how vast this fuckin’ country was. You could find peace, quiet, and get away from people for things like torturing this motherfucker for information and taking some retribution for your brother’s death.

We all stood around the guy that the Bayou Brethren called Roadkill, and it was a fitting name. I mean, regardless of if we did this the easy way, or the hard way, dude was going to die tonight. It was on him if it was quick or if it was slow.

I watched impassively as LaCroix questioned him and told him as much. Roadkill talked a good game, cussing our president the fuck out, spitting at him, and just generally being a macho jackass, but in the end the more macho the dude, the more he cried and the more he begged for his mamma as he fuckin’ died.

I wondered that about ol’ Roadkill here. If he would beg for his mamma or if he’d just beg God for forgiveness as he went out.

It was fifty-fifty, either way.

“Last chance,” Hex warned him. “You can either tell us what we wanna know, or we do this the hard way and I promise you, fella, the hard way’s gon’hurt.”

“Fuck you!” Roadkill spit the insult at our VP through gritted teeth.

Hex sighed, “It’s real easy there, friend. Just let us know what has you fellas so fuckin’ uppity – ‘cause we damn sure know it ain’t no gator trappin’ that’s got you all fired up, and we might consider just puttin’ a bullet in your head and callin’ it a day. A quick goodnight, spare us all your screamin’ and a hollerin’… what do you say?”

“I say I’ll see you in hell you motherfuckers!”

I almost felt sorry for him right then… almost… but then the feeling of Louie’s life squelching out from between my fingers like hot, sticky, pancake syrup invaded my thoughts and I wondered to myself if this piece of shit had been the one to pull off the lucky shot.

It didn’t matter either way, honestly. Whether he did or didn’t. They were all responsible.

Saint kicked the dude in the back of the shoulder making him face-plant in the field of tall, tall, grass.

We were out in the middle bumfuck off a bunch of farming access roads in a fallow field. He’d gotten here by van. We’d gotten here by bike, and I watched dispassionately in the headlights of one of those bikes as Axeman and Cypress pulled heavy lengths of surface rusted butstrongchain out of a couple of heavy canvas sacks.

They pulled the guy’s boots off mostly so they could get the chain’s tight enough to each ankle.

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