Page 31 of Bayou Knights
“I think you need me,” I hear Diablo’s voice as I spin around.
“Fuck,” I breathe.
“All this over a woman?” he asks.
“Not just any woman, but I think it goes further than that,” I tell him.
“Human trafficking?”
“Maybe,” I pour another whiskey and take a seat at the small table in my hotel room. Dixon went to go meet some of his father’s friends in hopes they could help. The others are doing another stone turning at Plum’s. I’m here losing my shit in a hotel room.
“Care to start at the beginning,” he takes the glass I offer him.
“Plum showed up at the inn right as tourist season kicked off. She was on the run. From her ex, from the media.”
“The media?” His eyes go wide.
“Her sister is a reality star and apparently Plum was on the line with 911 thinking a burglar broke into her home, come to find out her husband and sister were doing the horizontal tango. It was all over the news and some of the nighttime talk shows.”
“Wow,” he huffs.
“Yeah. I’m not going to lie, brother, I felt something talking to her. We had a connection, and it was off-the-charts sex.”
“That good? It’s been so long for you,” he teases.
“Fuck off, but yes. Plum inherited a huge sum of money from her grandfather who was in the oil business. He also left her land and a house on the border,” I tell him as he takes in everything I’ve said. I watch as his face gets redder in anger. He might seem like a crass asshole but he hates women being hurt. He had to watch his mother die at the hands of a man he thought was a family member. That man is now in the swamps back home, gator food.
“I’ll see what I can find. I need Capone,” he says.
“He’s seeing what he can find in California,” I tell him.
He nods, taking another swig of whiskey. He’s got some demons, that’s why he stays on the road all the time. He hates being touched, especially by a woman. We don’t push him or give him shit. Sure, he gets his fill, but it’s his way or not at all. I can only hope that someday he finds a woman that will tame his demons.
“I’ll ride out in the morning. For now, we should get dinner, you look like shit,” he says.
“Thanks. I feel like hell,” I swallow the last of my whiskey.
“We’ll find her and take out the assholes that did this,” he assures me.
“I know. I’m glad you could make it,” I tell him as we walk across the street to the diner.
“You asked, I’m here,” he says, slipping into a back booth.
“How’s the road?”
“I make do.”
“You can always come home,” I state.
“I know. I’m not ready yet,” he says and I just nod.
“Gotcha.” We eat in silence as he ponders everything I said and makes his plan in his head. I won’t ask what it is, and he won’t tell me. It’s better if I don’t know. This will also be rough on him since it’s going back to the places that haunt him. I know that he will get the job done. Once Capone is done doing what he does best, he will help Diablo. Rip will be able to keep both of them levelheaded when the shit starts to hit the fan, he has that way about him. Rip is called that because he used to be a surfer. We tease him about that all the time. He once got caught in a riptide and almost drowned, that was the end of his surfing days. He likes the water; he just hasn’t been on a board in a while. When he wants to surf again, I’m sure he will. He is the one that keeps Capone from getting in over his head when I send them to do jobs like this.
“You can crash in my room. What time you heading out?” I ask him.
“Early but no cut,” he says.
“I’ll keep it until you get back,” I say, and he nods, tossing money down on the table before we head back to the room.
