Page 62 of Bayou Knights
“There had to be at least two more shooters, but I don’t think they were close,” I look around.
“That’s a good place to set up shop,” Pike points at a building nearby right as bikes pull up and the van.
“What the fuck?” Zion roars.
“I need you to calm down.”
“Capone thought there was trouble, and he was right. I let her down,” he yells at no one in particular.
“You need to get your shit together, dad,” Ziggy tells him.
“Pike?” Dixon recognizes the man standing with me.
“Hey, Papa Bear,” Pike waves awkwardly at the older man.
“Reunions later. We found shell casings over there,” I point to where we found them, “and we think that another shooter was over there.” I point at the building Pike pointed out to me.
“Tex,” Zion snaps.
“I’ll go check it out,” Tex gets on his bike and takes off.
“There was one more shooter,” I’m still trying to figure out where that guy was at.
“I have the footage,” Pike calls out.
“I can hook it up,” Jace takes Pike’s phone and hooks it up to the laptop in the van. We watch it in silence.
It shows all of us coming out. The girls walking to the truck and climbing in when Plum is grabbed from behind by one man, who injects her with something.
“I can help you find her,” we all spin around to see a guy leaning up against the wall.
“Who the fuck are you?”
“Nate. She will tell, I was the worst of the guys,” he says right as Zion socks him in the nose.
“Fuck,” the man shouts.
“You have some balls,” Ziggy hisses as he holds his dad back.
“I had to do it. I’m undercover.”
We freeze at that statement.
“Undercover?” I step forward, trying to remain calm.
“I’ve been trying to get to Ricardo for years. I’ve been undercover for a year working my way to the top. I’m sorry for what I did. I know that Ricardo is dead, but the man who paid money for Plum has taken over and he’s worse than Ricardo,” the man says.
“Who took over?”
“His name is Santorini Martinez. He’s unknown but has been making a name as he goes, showing that he’s ruthless. His son wants him gone, he wants to run a clean ship so to speak.”
“Who are you?” I ask again.
“Ricardo and Santorini know me as Nate. My real name is Beck Tolliver.”
“Who do you work for?”
“FBI. Soon to be retired. I have been only doing this since I started tracking Ricardo, but I feel like this job has aged me.”
