Page 82 of DFF: Delicate Freakin' Flower

There was no sign of Maddox—no movement, no voices, nothing to suggest anyone had been there in a while. Just the skeletalremains of a project long abandoned, buried beneath layers of money, silence, and swamp soil.

“Son of a bitch,” Jesse hissed, slamming the truck door. “We were close. I know it.”

I stalked to the edge of the property, hands clenched at my sides, trying to piece together where he could’ve gone. How had he slipped away again?

Before we had a chance to regroup, headlights flared at the far edge of the lot as two black SUVs sped in.

“We’ve got company,” Elijah warned, his voice low and sharp.

Four men stepped out, each one armed and moving with the kind of quick, practiced confidence that left no room for doubt they weren’t here to talk.

Then, the first shot rang out, splitting the silence wide open.

We dropped behind the vehicles, weapons drawn, adrenaline surging through our veins. The next thirty seconds blurred into chaos. Shouts cut through the night, gunfire cracked back and forth, and the sharp, acrid stench of burning gunpowder filled my nose. Marcus caught one of them in the leg, and the man went down hard. The remaining attackers quickly retreated into the trees, covering each other as they fled into the shadows.

“Hold fire!” Jesse yelled, crouching beside the injured man. “We got one.”

The man let out a low groan, clutching his thigh as he collapsed to the ground. Blood was already soaking into the dirt beneath him, dark and spreading, but it didn’t look life-threatening—at least, not yet.

I was already pulling out my phone with a plan in mind. “We’re taking him with us. I know a place where we can go.”

Marcus’s friendJulian owned a small property out on the edge of Lake County. It wasn’t much, just a low house, a sagging barn, and an outhouse out back, but it was secluded, and nobody asked questions out there.

By the time we got there, the sun had started to set, casting long shadows across the empty field. We dragged the injured man inside and secured him to a chair in the old canning shed. Elijah cleaned and wrapped the wound while the rest of us circled him like wolves.

“You don’t wanna talk,” Jesse pointed out, leaning in, “but trust me, if you don’t, you’ll wish you had.”

The guy stayed silent, jaw clenched tight, face pale.

I took a step forward. “You work for Maddox, but that’s not who you’re afraid of, is it?”

A flicker of something crossed his face.

“You’re afraid of Clayton Barris.”

His head jerked up slightly—an involuntary reaction, just a flicker, but enough to give him away. It was a tell, subtle but unmistakable, the kind that only slipped through when someone wasn’t in control of their nerves.

“That’s who’s calling the shots now. Maddox is hiding, so Barris is running cleanup.”

It took another ten minutes, a lot of pressure, and one very convincing monologue from Marcus about swamp gators and anonymity before he broke.

“Barris is unhinged,” the man spat. “Even Maddox knows it, but he lets him run the ground game because no one crosses him.”

“What’s he planning?”

“I don’t know the full thing,” he said quickly. “But I know he’s pulling in guys from out of state for reinforcement. Maddox wants to disappear, but Barris wants blood. He said if that girl talks—if she survives—then everything burns.”

I felt something cold slide into my chest. Gabby had lit the match, and now Barris wanted to turn her into a warning.

We stepped out of the shed, leaving the man cuffed to the chair.

Jesse looked at me. “So, what now?”

“Now we cut the head off the snake. But first, we make damn sure the woman he wants most is never left alone.”

Chapter 26

Webb

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