Page 23 of Bayou Knights
“What?”
“Another problem,” I hear Ranger’s voice. He’s one of my go-to guys, military service and all.
“Come in,” I say and he does.
“Tex was shot at. And Gator found someone using the canals,” he says.
I’m getting it from all ends.
“Tell my men to go with you to search the swamp. Drug runners looking to move their loot without being noticed,” Dixon says.
“And Tex?” Ranger looks at me.
“Have Army check him out. Then tell him to come talk to me.”
“Yes, sir.” Ranger leaves.
“I think you need to breathe. I’m here to help, until Plum comes home. I will get you the addresses I know of in California.”
“Her sister first. I want her sister brought here and not as a guest.” The last part added so he understands.
“Of course,” he nods as he starts writing down the addresses to Plum’s house and where to find her sister.
“If she’s not at home, she will be on set. Look at every beach. If not there, then look for the drug dealers. I agree with your thoughts, my other daughter knows something.”
“Thank you.”
I call Jace in and have him run through the addresses and cameras and coordinate the guys that went to California.
“Zion?” Gage is standing in the door and he sounds so small despite his size.
“Come in, son,” I pull up a chair next to me.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
“For what?”
“I didn’t protect her,” he looks at his grandpa who doesn’t say anything.
“You did what you could. She didn’t want you hurt. We’re going to find her, I promise.”
“Gage. Did your father ever tell you about other properties?” his grandpa asks him.
“No. From what I could gather the day we left, my father had been seeing my aunt for a while. He was hardly home, so I’m guessing he would go there if he wasn’t at work,” Gage says.
“Grandma is coming,” Dixon engulfs his grandson in a hug and the kid breaks down again. It breaks my heart. I almost can’t take it, but I have to. I need to find her. Alive.
CHAPTERTEN
Plum
I wake up in a dark room. Not my own. I’m not tied so that’s good, I think.
“You’re awake,” I hear his voice before he comes into view. The man from yesterday. The one who hit me.
“Sorry about your face,” he says, not sounding the least bit sorry.
“What do you want?”
