Page 72 of Blood Revealed

So far we’ve got jack on the whereabouts of Escalante. Whomever he’s paying, he’s paying them well and probably offering to take care of their families in case of death, in return for their loyalty because no one’s talking. It’s like his place doesn’t exist on any map. How am I supposed to find a guy who passes through a wormhole or some shit to get home?

Without any decent info coming in, with Duke’s okay, we made the decision to shake down Hannah and Brinley’s junkie dad. He’s a man we know we can get to. It means escalating war with the Pythons, but we’re losing time and options.

The Pythons call Houston home. From there, it’s not hard to locate their compound. And for a man like Coyote, the women’s dad, a man falling deeper and deeper into his addiction, it’s not hard to find someone who knows him and knows where to find him for a price. Our informant meets us in a shady-as-fuck part of town. The Outcasts arranged the meet.

This dude is skin and bones and open sores. He’s like a walking disease. I make the approach. “You know Coyote?” I ask. He’s supposed to, but I don’t trust junkies.

“Yeah… Yeah.” He shakes his head vigorously.

“You know where he is right now?”

I can practically feel Hero bouncing on the balls of his feet behind me, waiting to pounce. The man’s pregnant wife was sold off by her own father and Hero vowed vengeance for his woman.

The informant looks between me and the brothers to my back. “They gonna hurt me?” he asks, gesturing with his chin.

“Not if you tell us what we need to know,” I reply.

“Got the cash?”

I pull the envelope from my cut, flashing it to him. He reaches out to grab it, but I pull it back. “Nope. You know the deal, motherfucker. You want the cash, I get Coyote.”

The man’s practically vibrating as he turns without saying another word and takes off in a jog down a dark, depressing, slumhole of a street. The sad part is, this ain’t even the worst place I’ve seen.

We turn down three city blocks of boarded-up, abandoned buildings. Spray paint tags show this neighborhood is rife with gang activity. We even see a few men step out from their buildings to flash us Glocks, letting us know who’s in charge around here.

They also see us wearing Lords cuts and let us pass. Been in gunfights before, but I prefer they be in an area I’m familiar with if they’re going to happen.

The informant gets twitchy the closer to our destination we come. He leads us around the back of a rancid-smelling building. There’re used needles and human shit along with God-knows-what-else along the outer brick wall.

Each man with me draws his weapon before stepping through the broken piece of plywood the property owners use to try and keep the homeless and junkies out of the building. It’s dark. I’m on high alert, prepared for some stupid fuck to try something. By this time of day, they’re all smacked out of their minds. No one’s coming at us any time soon.

As we reach a second room, the junkie steps to the side to hide himself behind a wall but points to a spot in the corner. And shit if our timing couldn’t be more perfect. Coyote is sitting, bent knees, on a dirty mattress on the floor, too busy removing his boot and sock to notice us.

I pull the envelope from my pocket, handing it over to the jittery man, who snatches it and becomes smoke, poof—just like that.

“Careful. Don’t let him stick you,” I warn Hero and the other brothers. Then, on the count of three, we sneak in, keeping to the dark recesses. The man doesn’t even know we’re on him until he hears the click from cocking the hammer and feels the cool end of the muzzle against his head. Hero on one side, Boss to the other.

“Fuck you doin’, boys?” he shouts, and just like that, the fun begins with Hero popping him in the jaw using the hand not holding the weapon.

Stunned, the man doesn’t register my approach and I’m able to safely lift the syringe he was about to shoot up. Never seen a man go into such a panic. Sell off his own flesh and blood, no problem, yet panic over losing his smack. He disgusts me.

“Want it back?” I ask. His eyes go right to mine. “Then you tell me what I need to know.”

“Ain’t got nothin’ for no Lords pussies.”

“Lords pussies, eh?” I bring my arm up, ready to throw the syringe, and he scrambles, despite the guns to his head, waving his hands frantically and begging.

“No, no, no…” He lunges for the drugs, but my brothers keep a tight hold on him and I dangle his prize just out of reach. I can’t even fathom how two beautiful women like the Brown sisters came from this man. He’s trash.

I get closer, using the hand not holding the syringe to grab his chin and squeeze until it’s painful. “Now, listen, you son of a bitch. My wife is missing and you’re gonna tell me where. The fuck. She is.”

“Wh-Who’s your wife?” he stammers.

“Hannah Brown.”

The man’s back goes rigid. “I—I ain’t seen her in years.”

“No shit,” Hero says as he clocks the guy upside the head.

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