DARK SECRETS

LUKAS DONOVAN UNDERCOVER:

EPISODE FIVE

CAROLINA MAC

Copyright © 2025 by Carolina Mac

Dark Secrets - 1st ed.

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To: Lukas Donovan Fans

CONTENTS

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Also by Carolina Mac

Chapter One

Sunday, August 17th.

Nine Saint Gillian Street. Garden District. New Orleans.

Mystere LeJeune’s old, creaky house on Saint Gillian Street in New Orleans was a spooky place to live, but that’s what my new job required.

Every day was Hallowe’en at Misty’s house—that’s what it felt like to me. Crows sat in rows along her fences, cawing and squawking while the house itself moaned and groaned and had a lot to say.

There were cats who lived in the house and seemed to exist with no one feeding them or letting them outside. I still hadn’t figured that one out.

My new job, sanctioned by the White House, was to cripple as many gangs as possible and try not to get killed in the process.

The number one gang threatening the citizens of New Orleans was the Banshees and they were my first target. They’d been linked to crooked politicians, city officials, and it seemed the number of people in the city taking bribes from the gangs was in the hundreds.

The names listed in the notebook given to me by Misty ranked from the highest position in Louisiana all the way down to crooked dog catchers.

Helping me in this endeavor was Misty’s cousin, Remi LeJeune, who was acting as my driver and bodyguard, and his sister, Marisol who filled the position of cook and housekeeper.

Marisol’s presence made the house livable and a lot less spooky for me. She was a beautiful girl with a happy smile, and she could cook. A great combination.

After going over all the names in Misty’s hit book, Remi and I decided the first order of business should be the removal of the Banshee’s enforcer, Johnny Cormier.

If we were successful and the task was completed, the club would be set back for a few days—longer to be hoped—giving Remi and I time to get other things in place. The Banshees’ guard would be down after the tragic loss of one of their own and there would be a lull in gang activity while the club grieved for their fallen member.

Theory only, but it was what we were counting on.

Remi and I were drinking Marisol’s fantastic coffee and tossing scenarios around when Jack jumped up off his favorite mat near the kitchen stove and booked it to the front door.

He clawed at the door, growling and snarling and it made me wonder who could annoy him so much. As far as I knew, he didn’t know anybody in New Orleans.

I stood up to go see who it could be, and Remi shook his head, his black hair swishing around his broad shoulders. “My job, boss.”

“Right.” I sat down and waited while Remi did his thing and cleared whoever happened to be ringing the doorbell. Not healthy for me to be opening doors after what had gone on lately.

Remi returned to the kitchen with Jack still growling and introduced US Marshal Jeffrey Feltham from the New Orleans field office.

I stood up and shook his hand. Marshal Feltham was wearing a dark suit and looking official while I was wearing my usual torn jeans and a Harley shirt, my hair a tangled mess.

After the introductions, Feltham sat down, and Marisol provided all three of us with hot coffee and muffins warm from the oven.

Feltham’s expression was dark and threatening and I wasn’t keen to hear what he had to say, but I had to listen to it anyway.

“I had an unsettling phone call this morning from the president, sir, and her explanation of what you will be doing in this city didn’t sit well with me.”

“In what way does my job interfere with yours or give you reason to worry?” I asked.

“Before this discussion goes any further,” snapped Feltham, “I’d like to see your identification.”

I smiled. “I’m afraid you have the wrong impression of me, Marshal Feltham. It’s you who should be showing me your ID, sir.”

I whipped out the shiny new cred pack that had arrived by courier and displayed the badge with the White House attachment. That made Marshal Feltham back up his belligerent attitude a notch or two.

Remi took his new badge off his belt and proudly showed the Marshal.

After a close inspection of both our IDs, he said, “I apologize, Marshal Foret. Please explain to me how my office will be involved in your upcoming project, and I will be delighted to assist you in any way I can.”

“Thank you, sir, and it’s true, Remi and I will need your assistance from time to time. This clean sweep project will be long and arduous. Nothing deep-rooted is removed overnight. A process of evidence gathering and making arrests, and when we bring you the prisoners and the goods we have on them, all your office is required to do is transport that felon to the appropriate holding facility where they will await trial.”

“There will be no arraignments or bail hearings?”

“Not under the special statute invoked by the president for this project. A three-step process consisting of evidence, arrest and trial. Nice and neat.”

“Interesting. Is it constitutionally legal?”

“I’m not the person to ask about that. I believe you were speaking with her earlier today.”

“Yes, sir, I was.” He smiled. “And I can’t remember when I’ve been so nervous on a phone call.”

“So you were briefed on the phone by President Harrison, and have written instructions arrived since?”

“They have, and our office is more than pleased to be involved in the big clean up. Not before time, and I wish you all the luck.”

Marshal Feltham departed with a firm handshake after he finished his coffee, and Remi and I got to work.

Caesar’s Hotel & Casino. Canal Street.

Remi parked in the hotel ramp and from there we struck out on foot to observe what was going on in the shadows around the hotel. Focusing on any of the Banshees wearing their cuts and displaying their reaper logos, we hoped to catch one red-handed to get us started.

With Jack on his leash, we strolled along the boardwalk enjoying the breeze blowing off the Mississippi and listening to the shriek of the gulls overhead.

“There.” Remi pointed and we watched it happen. If he hadn’t been looking in that direction, the crime itself would’ve gone unnoticed. It happened so quickly, the victim barely noticed she’d been robbed.

Remi was faster than me in my half-healed state and he grabbed the ganger and pinned him up against the wall of the building next to him.

I caught up and cuffed the ganger and told him he was under arrest.

“You gotta be kidding, you asshole cop. You’re gonna haul me in for something so small. I’ve got your number, buddy.”

My fist got away from me, and I throat punched him so hard, his head bounced off the brick wall. Made him bite his tongue and blood trickled out the side of his mouth.

“I’ve got your number too, buddy. Let’s go, Remi.”

“I’ll get the truck, boss.”

We had the woman’s purse for evidence, and she’d get her goods back after the guy had been processed. It was petty theft, and this first tiny inroad was only to let the Banshees know we were on the scene, and they’d better watch their step.

They wouldn’t care that we were on them. They’d challenge us and that’s when things would get interesting. They’d ramp up and then we’d ramp up…and so on.

Let the best man win.

Jackson Square. New Orleans.

A huge tourist draw in the core of New Orleans was Jackson Square. An historic park named in honor of Andrew Jackson, the entire area was filled with tents and stalls. Food vendors, fortune tellers, psychics, tarot readers, folks selling voodoo charms and healing salves, witches, warlocks and many more. All claiming to be authentic. Some were the real thing and some weren’t, but did any of the tourists really care?

No. They came for the taste of the city and the cultural beat. The French Quarter offered the taste with some of the best restaurants in the entire world. Cajun cooking at its best.

Jackson Square offered the beat of the city. The culture and the vibe. One of the most historic places no self-respecting tourist or world traveler would miss.

“What are we looking for here, boss?” asked Remi.

“Misty’s list says there are gangers collecting protection money from the vendors. After they’ve paid for their spots by the week or month from the city, they are forced to pay again so they don’t get robbed or lose their stall.”

“Misty thinks the Banshees are doing this?”

“It’s on her list, Remi.”

“She must know about it then. A lot of her friends have tents here. Misty used to have a setup here too when she read the tarot. She was the most popular reader in the state of Louisiana.”

“I can believe that,” I said. “Misty never does anything halfway. Did she ever give you a reading?”

“Yes, and it was an eye-opener for me.”

Strolling around and blending into the crowd, Remi and I were able to grab two young Banshees—probably prospects—demanding protection money from two of the vendors.

Jack growled. We made the arrests. Took pictures. Got witness statements and secured the gangers in the truck.

They hollered and yelled as we drove across the city to our destination.

“Where you wannabee cops taking us? We got rights.”

“Nope. You gave those up when you broke the law.”

US Marshal’s Office. Poydras Steet. New Orleans.

Our first visit to the field office and we weren’t sure of the protocol. Marshal Feltham came into the squad area to talk to us, and he seemed surprised to get customers so quickly.

“Three already? That’s remarkable, boys. We’ll take care of them for you. Everything has been set up to process them and to transport them to their destination.”

The three Banshees were shouting out for lawyers and Feltham was ignoring them. “Not time for a lawyer yet, boys. We’re just getting to know y’all. Lawyers come later when y’all are getting ready for a trial.”

I hadn’t liked Feltham when we first met, but now that we were all on the same page, and we had respect for each other, I figured we could work together like Yvonne wanted us to.

All I want is to make Yvonne happy, in one way or another.

Cormier Residence. Irish Channel District.

Remi and I parked on Johnny Cormier’s street to watch his house. Remi picked a great spot where we could see the front door of Cormier’s shotgun house, and we could also see his Harley parked in the alley.

Since we’d arrived, there had been no movement outside. We figured Johnny boy was hungover and he was still sleeping.

We sat and smoked and listened to the radio for at least another half hour before he ventured out his front door and jumped on his Harley.

Remi tailed him as he made his way through the city to the French Quarter.

Cormier parked his bike and strolled down the street to one of the vendors and bought a bag of something and a coffee.

“What’s he buying?”

“Beignets for breakfast,” said Remi. “Best in the city.”

Cormier strolled back to the park close to where he parked his bike, and he sat down on one of the benches.

“Good time to take him out, boss, when he’s solo in the park. Nobody around to protect him.”

“You’re right. Let’s do it. I’ll leash Jack, and it will look like we’re walking our dog.”

I lagged back and let Remi take the lead with Jack. He strolled the sidewalk, smiled at Cormier and sat down on the other end of the bench. Jack laid on the grass.

Remi chatted to Cormier in Cajun French, and I watched them both while I waited for my chance.

Cormier stuffed another beignet into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully while he listened to Remi ramble on about two of the city’s best sports teams.

I circled around through the trees and came at Cormier from behind. He never noticed me, and I broke his neck swiftly and cleanly before he had a chance to swallow his breakfast.

Remi and I left him on the bench with the bag of beignets next to him. Not a mark on him, and to a passing stranger, he looked like he was sleeping.

Nine Saint Gillian Street. Garden District.

From the French Quarter, Remi and I drove back to Misty’s house, our first day of work completed. I decided to keep a log for Misty to keep track of everything we’d accomplished. If she asked for anything specific, we’d put it in the book and make sure it got done.

I had a couple of beers on the back porch before dinner and watched Jack run around the yard, and the crows line up along the fence.

The birds were amazing to watch and as I listened to the cawing and squawking, it sounded like a couple of them were saying actual words in English, but I figured that was my imagination.

Marisol called us for dinner, and she had cooked up a big pot of jambalaya. Hot and spicy and full of protein. I ate too much and could hardly move after filling my bowl twice.

A sweet girl and I liked having her around. “Do y’all have to go out again tonight?” she asked.

“Umm…not for too long,” said Remi. “When we come back, me and Lukas will watch a show or a movie with you, girl.”

She smiled. “I know y’all are working. I’m okay by myself.”

“I’ll feed Jack and leave him with you, Marisol. He’s a great watchdog.”

Banshee’s Clubhouse. Desire District.

Remi drove to the clubhouse, and we had nothing in mind. No plan to execute. This was only a fishing trip to see if the boss of the club, Diego Gentil, had found out about his enforcer, Johnny Cormier. We wanted to gauge his reaction and possibly use it to our advantage.

We sat and stared at the outside of the clubhouse on a backstreet of the Desire District for an hour and got no information. Members went in and out, but we had no tag inside and sitting on the street was a waste of time.

Next step was to follow the Banshees to their watering hole when the meeting was over.

Flavien’s Bar and Grille. Desire District.

We got ourselves a table within earshot of the section the Banshees commandeered when they came to socialize at their favorite bar.

I ordered a couple of pitchers, and Remi and I settled in to wait until the boys showed up for a beer or two with their buddies.

I’d just ordered our third pitcher when a shitload of Banshees pushed in through the back door. All of them yelling and hollering and worked up about something that didn’t sit well with them.

“I hope they know about Cormier,” I said. “We need to hear what they’re planning to do about it.”

Remi nodded and lit up a smoke.

“I’m hoping they think the Bandidos are responsible,” I said. “That will make things interesting for us. While they’re focusing on payback and riling up a club that didn’t do the deed, we can take care of a lot more names on Misty’s list.”

Remi laughed.

Chapter Two

Monday, August 18th.

Nine Saint Gillian Street. Garden District.

I called and texted Colette several times and never got a response from her. It was hard to tell if she was without service in her remote part of the bayou or if she was deliberately not talking to me.

After not seeing her for a while and finding out she was heavily into voodoo, I felt it might be better if we went our separate ways.

The worst scenario crossing my mind, and one I didn’t want to dwell on, was an uprising of Baron Magloire’s followers. If that had occurred after Misty and I left Colette at her father’s mansion, those crazies might have taken her out.

If that was why she wasn’t answering my calls, there was nothing I could do about it. The last thing I wanted was Colette getting hurt, but it was her choice to put herself on the line for the people who followed her.

Putting Colette out of my mind, Remi and I planned our second day of work in the city of New Orleans.

“Do you think there will be a big funeral and a ride for Cormier?” I asked Remi.

“For sure,” said Remi. “Funerals are a huge event in N’Orleans. A lot of ceremony and then a huge wake that sometimes lasts for days.”

“Days?”

Remi nodded.

“That could give you a severe headache,” I said. “Did Johnny Cormier come from a large family?”

“Don’t know about his family, but I can find out for you, Lukas. It might not be safe for us to go to the funeral.”

“If not, we can watch from a distance.”

“Should be interesting,” said Remi. “A lot of Banshees from other chapters around the country will show up out of respect for the Sergeant at Arms of the founding chapter.”

“Yeah, I get that. I have a contact in Austin I’m going to call. He is in touch with guys and girls on the streets of every city across the entire country. His people get paid good dollars for knowing what’s going on.”

Remi raised a black eyebrow. “Good to have street people to go to. I’m not familiar with many in N’Orleans.”

“You and I will set up our own network and it will help us a lot.”

Remi smiled like it was something he hadn’t thought of. “Sure will help us.”

I took coffee out on the back porch and called Kamps to see just how many people he had in place in New Orleans. Jack went with me and barked at the crows.

“Hey, Lukas. How’s the new job going?”

“Not bad so far. I like it here in New Orleans and I have Misty’s two cousins helping me. I was wondering if you had people in place here who could provide me with a few things.”

“Sure do. Lots going on in that city and I can give you a list of my top three. You can talk to them one by one and set up your own network.”

“Same thing I was thinking.”

“As far as I know, the three I’m passing along to you work independently and I don’t think they know each other.”

“Okay. I get it. I’ll keep them separate. I don’t want them getting touchy about turf or anything like that.”

“Best way to handle it. You got a pen and paper?”

“Yep. Right here beside me.”

“Good. First guy I have for you is Emile LeBarre. He’s always been stellar for me in the past and I’d put him at the top of the list for dependability. He usually doesn’t bother reporting anything that hasn’t been verified.”

“Yep. I’m writing his name down. Can I call him directly or all calls go through you?”

“These guys are touchy because most of them have a lot of illegal side activities, so to start, you’ll have to go through me. They won’t trust you right off the bat.”

“I get that. They don’t know me from a rat’s ass.”

“You’ll have to use him a couple of times and treat him good, show him the money and then he might loosen up his private burner phone number. He changes his number frequently.”

“Great, I’ll work on LeBarre. Who are the other two on the top of the list?”

“Second best who’s always been great for me is a girl named Joelle Guidry. She’s smart and fast and she won’t let you down. I’m not sure what area she lives in, but she seems to cover most of the city. I think she mentioned having a sister in Baton Rouge if something comes up in that city.”

“Thanks, she sounds great.”

“The third guy is Alonso Lort, and I think he’ll be most helpful to y’all in the political area. Alonso knows who’s on the pad and what info the fuckers are passing to the gangers.”

“Fantastic, there are dozens of names on Misty’s list that have elected positions written next to them.”

“Fucking pitiful to have so much corruption in our cities, but it’s not just in New Orleans, it’s widespread.”

“Yeah, it makes me wonder what’s going on in Austin. Do you think Blacky knows who to trust?”

“We try to keep on top of it, but it’s a battle.”

“You’ve been a great help, Kamps. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. One other thing you might want to think about in connection to making inroads into the Banshees.”

“What? I’m open to any ideas you’ve got.”

“Gentil’s girlfriend. I looked into him, and he’s married but on the side, he has a girlfriend. She could be a goldmine of information if you got close to her.”

“How close are we talking?”

“Close as you can get, Lukas. Big rewards for a bit of effort.”

“Okay, what’s her name?”

“Georgia Rome. I have an address for her if you want and she likes to hang out at Saint Jake’s bar in the Garden District.”

“Thanks. I think that angle will be fun to work.”

Kamps laughed. “It’s all fun until they try to kill you.”

“I know that for a fact, bro. Been there.”

Spotted Dog Jazz Club. French Quarter.

Remi and I went down to the French Quarter to meet Emile LeBarre as soon as Kamps set it up for me.

LeBarre was a guy who could tell us what was really going on in the city—underneath, in the core—away from the historic sites, the world-class restaurants and the incomparable night life.

The Spotted Dog was a famous jazz bar in the Quarter, always crowded and on every tourist’s list for at least one visit.

Emile had a table in the back corner of the club, and he was watching for us. He gave us a discreet wave as we made our way through the crowd searching for him.

Standing next to the table, I introduced myself and Remi before sitting down.

LeBarre was a good-looking kid in his late twenties with medium length dark hair and dark observant eyes. Cleaner and better dressed than a lot of street people I’d met in the past.

I ordered beer for Remi and myself, and I didn’t recognize the drink Emile had in front of him, but I ordered him another—whatever it was—from the server.

All the street guys I’d dealt with in the past didn’t waste time on small talk or discussions of the weather. They were there to deliver information and collect cash.

“This notebook was compiled and given to me by Mystere LeJeune,” I placed the leather book on the table and as soon as LeBarre heard Misty’s name, he paid attention to every question I was asking.

He freely told me which areas of the city were the worst for bribes and payoffs, and he went one step further and gave me names not in the notebook.

I started a fresh page and entered the new names and the positions they occupied in the running of the city and the State of Louisiana.

Emile LeBarre was a wealth of information, but his expertise would not come cheap. I expected to pay for every word of it. Supplying facts and sometimes rumors was how he made a living.

After covering the politicians, Emile moved on to the intricate system developed between the Banshees and the New Orleans mob—a complicated network that nailed the city down tight.

“There are so many dirty cops and people in the mayor’s office taking bribes, I fear it won’t be long until they are unstoppable.”

After hearing the depths that the city had sunk to, Remi became frustrated thinking that the two of us couldn’t possibly make a difference no matter how hard we tried.

“With all of the gangsters having cops, lawyers and judges in their pockets, what can we do?”

One more round of drinks and I asked Emile how much I owed him for the consultation.

“Two hundred.” He smiled. “Now that I know you are acting on behalf of Madam LeJeune to clean up her city, I’ll work extra hard for y’all, and I’ll call as soon as I have something useful.”

I paid him the two hundred and we shook hands on it and like Kamps said, Emile LeBarre was someone I could count on.

Nine Saint Gillian Street. Garden District.

It would’ve been easy and quicker to eat out and stay downtown, but Marisol had been recruited to stay at Misty’s house and cook our meals. It was only polite to go home and eat after she’d put hours into cooking and baking pies for us.

The table was set when we rushed in, and she smiled.

“We’ll take you out later, Marisol. Remi and I will be cruising the casinos, and you can go with us.”

She smiled. “Merci. I will dress up.”

Dinner was hot and spicy and delicious, and we told Marisol about what we’d accomplished during the day. She seemed interested and was familiar with many of the names Remi tossed around.

I fed Jack after dinner and took him for a run down the laneway out back before cleaning up to go out again.

Marisol wore a flowered dress and brushed her dark hair down long and she looked gorgeous. I couldn’t put any moves on her with her brother right there watching me, but I couldn’t help thinking seriously about it.

“Looking good, Marisol.” I winked at her and Remi gave me a sideways glance.

Casino District. Mississippi River.

Remi parked in one of the hotel ramps and we walked from there. I had the urge to hold Marisol’s hand, but Remi had a sharp eye on me.

Having a sister as beautiful as Marisol LeJeune probably kept him on his toes. She must have a large following of guys on the hunt back home. Not a subject I brought up to Remi.

I hadn’t been told where they lived in Louisiana but I’d find out eventually as I got to know both of them better.

As we strolled along the riverfront we kept an eye on the tourists, making sure they were safe and weren’t being hassled by any gangers or pickpockets.

Inside Caesars Palace, we strolled through the gaming tables watching for gangers wearing their cuts. They would be selling drugs in the shadows near the washrooms and on the street outside of the exits.

From past experience when I was dealing for the Eights, I knew all the places to stand to have the largest number of tourists pass by me. I dealt in Austin, but it was the same in any city.

We checked many of the hot spots.

What I needed to find out was which hotels were owned and run by the mob. Then I’d have a better idea where the Banshees might be hanging out.

Mob guys partnered up with the gangers—for the greater good. One big happy family.

That was a joke. It was for nobody’s good but their own. More dollars in their pockets.

Saint Jake’s Bar. Garden District.

After our tour of the casino district, Remi drove us home and he and Marisol went to bed. I went to my room but didn’t get undressed. A quick cleanup to get refreshed for more work.

I walked out to the lane behind Misty’s house and jumped into my truck. Remi had been doing all of the driving around the city and it felt strange to be behind the wheel.

The GPS took me to the bar that was reportedly the favorite hangout of Georgia Rome, mistress of Diego Gentil, president of the New Orleans’ Banshees.

I got there after midnight, and the bar was packed with people in party mode. Live music blaring like in most of the popular clubs, and not an empty table in sight.

No choice but to sit at the bar and take my chances on seeing an opening with Georgia Rome and capitalizing on it.

First I had to pick her out of a huge crowd of tourists and locals all mingling together, laughing, singing and having a helluva good time. I had no idea what she looked like—that was my second problem.

Taking a chance that Miss Georgia had been arrested once or twice just for hanging around too close to Gentil, I put her name into the police database and came up with an unflattering mug shot.

Even looking her worst, she looked damned good. No way you could dumb down her looks. Long platinum hair and big dark eyes, I should have no trouble finding her, even in a crowd.

I paid for my beer, picked up the bottle and went for a stroll through the club. The closer I got to the stage, the more crowded it became.

There she is.

Georgia sat at a table not far from the band.

There was a man at her table, but it wasn’t Diego Gentil. Maybe it was her husband—maybe they were both cheaters.

I edged closer, sticking close to the shadows dancing off the dark red walls. The guy with Georgia stood up and left the table, possibly on a trip to the men’s room, but I didn’t give a flying fuck where he was going.

Squeezing between the closely placed tables, I sat down next to her. We both faced the stage.

“Hey, Georgia,” I whispered. “Can I buy you a drink?”

She turned and peered at me through the dim light. All the lights were pointing at the band, and we were in virtual darkness. “Who are you?”

“Just a guy who wanted to meet you. Lukas Foret.”

“I’m with someone.”

“I saw him get up and leave. I’m not as stupid as I look, Georgia.”

She laughed. “He’s probably on his way back.”

“He your husband?”

“Just a friend.”

“Want to get out of here before he comes back?”

She giggled and I could tell she wasn’t as old as I thought she was.

“Where do you want to go, Lukas?”

“Anywhere with you.”

“Why me?”

“Tell me why I wouldn’t want to leave with the most beautiful girl in this club? I have lofty goals.”

“I don’t have any goals,” she whispered. “I can’t help you out, Lukas. Like I said, I’m with a friend.”

I slid a card across the table to her. Didn’t have anything on it—just a printed card with my name and number embossed on it. Misty had them made for me.

“I’ll make room for your friend, Georgia, but don’t forget about me.”

She picked up the card and shoved it down the front of her low-cut top.

On my way out, I passed the guy she was with, and I figured she was telling the truth. He wasn’t a guy she was screwing around with. She was with him for an entirely different reason.

Figuring I’d met Georgia Rome and that was enough for one night, I headed to the parking lot to pick up my truck.

Time to sleep.

Chapter Three

Tuesday, August 19th.

Nine Saint Gillian Street. Garden District.

Marisol had coffee ready when I came down the creaky staircase to start another day wallowing in the underworld of the Big Easy.

After I let Jack out into the yard for a run, I sat down at the ten-foot black work table and said, “Johnny Cormier’s funeral is today.”

“Remi mentioned it,” said Marisol. “I’d love to see the parade of bikes roll through the city.”

“Yep. That’s going to be something, girl. I have to work the funeral and the wake later tonight, but you can go watch the ride if you want. It’s shaping up to be huge.”

I was on my second coffee when Remi walked into the kitchen looking at the screen of his phone. “Hundreds of bikers riding into the city this morning, Lukas. It’s on the news.”

“Wow, I want to see.” Marisol ran into the sitting room next to the kitchen and turned on the early newscast.

Remi and I followed her and watched. I didn’t recognize the section of the city the cameras were showing, but the newscaster on the street could barely be heard above the noise of the Harley engines.

“It’s gonna be something else, Lukas. The whole city is gonna show up for this funeral. Hundreds of people.”

“A huge crowd will draw all of the rats out of the shadows, Remi. The crime rate will go through the roof.”

“There must be a few good cops left,” said Marisol. “Not everybody in N’Orleans is bad.”

“Oh, yeah. The ones on the lowest level should be good for a few arrests—trying to prove themselves.”

“What time is the service at the chapel?” asked Marisol.

“Eleven,” said Remi. “We best leave here by ten if we want to get anywhere near that funeral home.”

“I’ll shower and get dressed right after breakfast. I’ve only got one suit, so it won’t take me long to get ready.”

Remi grinned. “Me too. One black suit for funerals and weddings is all a man needs.”

I gave Remi a fist bump and sat down at the table while Marisol dished up our eggs and sausages onto plates. The biscuits she made in the oven every morning were my favorite part of breakfast, and I usually ate too many.

“One more coffee with Marisol and I’ll hit the shower.” I winked at her and made her smile.

L’Esperance Funeral Services. New Orleans.

“Aw, look at this mess, Remi. How close are we?”

“Not close, boss. We’re still at least a mile away.”

“Gridlocked. We’re sitting still.”

“You called it, boss. We’re sitting here like everybody else. Nobody’s moving.”

“Take a side street, Remi. See what you can do.”

Remi laughed. “The next side street is about a hundred yards ahead of us. We’ll be lucky to get there in half an hour.”

I lowered my window and lit up a smoke. “No use getting in a stir over it.”

“For sure not.”

Eventually Remi got to the side street and was able to make a right turn. Using his knowledge of the back streets and back alleys and laneways of the old part of the city, he managed to get us much closer. We parked about a quarter mile away.

Considering ourselves lucky to get this close, we hopped out and hoofed it the rest of the way to the funeral home.

“Lots of people around us are doing the same thing, Remi. Bikes would’ve been ideal. We could’ve ridden across lawns and along the sidewalks.”

Remi laughed. “That would’ve been fun.”

Me and Remi had left Misty’s house early and we were ahead of hundreds of others. When we reached the funeral home building, we were fortunate enough to squeeze into a seat close to the back of the chapel. Droves of others would be standing outside.

I watched for Gentil and his wife to arrive and when they did, they sat at the front of the chapel with the Cormier family. From where Remi and I were sitting, it looked like Johnny Cormier had a sister and a couple of brothers.

There was no sign of Georgia Rome, but she might’ve been lying low with Diego’s wife sitting right next to him.

I wonder if the wife knows about Georgia.

The service itself was long and tearful, and I felt bad for the family, but wiping Johnny Cormier out was only a small part of my job. There would be more to come. More families of the violent Banshees would be affected by the cleanup. Couldn’t be helped. The gangers chose their lifestyle and with that came a huge risk.

After the final amen, everyone spilled outside and stood around on the front lawn of the funeral home. A beautiful property with trimmed bushes and wide flowerbeds shouldering the pathways.

The smell of the flowers floated on the humid air, and I enjoyed the sensation. Never enough time in my life to stop and smell the flowers.

Remi told me everyone was gathering outside for the walk to the cemetery for the interment.

I was down with that.

Mixing in with the crowd of bikers interspersed with members of the New Orleans mob was a fantastic opportunity to pick up bits of information I’d probably never get otherwise. I’d already heard one biker ask another if he was going to the wake at The Swamp.

On the march to the cemetery, Remi looked it up on his phone and a place called The Swamp was in the Desire district of the city near the Banshees clubhouse. “Looks like a big place, boss.”

“Nothing will be big enough, Remi. We’ll go to the wake tonight and monitor what’s going on. See if any other clubs try to crash. That’s a common thing in Texas. Not sure about here.”

Remi nodded.

It was a long walk back to my truck after we watched them put Johnny Cormier in the ground at the ancient cemetery, but we were on a tight schedule and Remi and I couldn’t waste time dawdling along.

Kamps had set up an appointment with Joelle Guidry for us, and I didn’t want to be late. Joelle was second from the top on Kamps’ list of the best informants in New Orleans.

Dan Darker’s Roadhouse.

Joelle was waiting for us in the dive bar where she liked to hang out. For a girl who lived on the street and made her living in questionable ways, she was hot.

Short, spikey black hair, a pretty face and tight jeans, she appealed to me in a big way. Maybe I was just missing Colette.

“Lukas Foret, Joelle.” I offered her my hand and she looked at me and nodded. No intention of shaking my hand. Maybe she was one of those germophobes or whatever.

“This is Remi.”

“Hey, Remi,” she said, “Y’all are wearing suits. Y’all go to Johnny Cormier’s burial?”

“We did. We’re going to the wake later tonight if we can get in.”

“Doubt it. Be a big crowd. Banshees are arriving here in the city from all over the fucking country. Y’all won’t get in.”

“Might not,” I said, “but we’ll try.” I gave her a wink and she gave me a tiny smile.

“My man, Kamps, said you were into some heavy-duty shit here in town,” said Joelle.

“We’re helping Madam LeJeune with a cleanup project she’s working on,” said Remi. “You may be able to give us a hand.”

“The Great One is here at her house in the Garden District?”

“She was,” I said, “but she left us with the task and went back to Austin for a time.”

Joelle smiled. “I heard she was in the bayou ripping apart Baron Magloire’s dark magic empire. That guy stirred up constant trouble and killed way too many people with his human sacrifices n’all.”

That made me raise an eyebrow.

There was no mention of human sacrifices when I was down there.

“The human sacrifice thing might’ve been only a rumor,” I said.

“Just because you didn’t see it happen in front of y’all don’t mean it ain’t true. Wish I’d been there to see it,” said Joelle. She tapped her notebook. “Give me a list of what y’all need for Madam LeJeune and I’ll get you the information as soon as I can.”

Both Joelle and Emile respected Misty and wanted to help her with this project.

We talked for a half hour about what I needed right away, and Joelle made a few notes. She smiled as she took my two hundred bucks and ran out the door.

“What did you think of her, Remi?”

He shrugged. “She’s pretty enough but a lot of danger in her eyes. Not sure we should trust her.”

“Always the possibility somebody else is paying her to inform on us, Remi, and she’s playing both ends against the middle. Is that what you’re thinking?”

“Yep. Something along those lines.”

“Kamps guaranteed her, so we should give her a chance. The way this city is wired up, we can’t trust anybody but ourselves, Remi. We’ll pull it in tighter as we get going.”

“Think we’ll need more men?”

“It’s a possibility and we can’t ignore the fact that we’re badly outnumbered. I know a couple of people we can absolutely trust when the time comes.”

Remi and I finished our beer, and I paid the tab, not knowing quite what to think of Joelle Guidry.

Nine Saint Gillian Street. Garden District.

Remi and I had a beer on the back porch while Marisol put the finishing touches on dinner. When she called us in for more of her Cajun cooking, most of the conversation centered around the wake we were going to attend.

“Is Cormier’s wake open to anybody or just the family and the Banshees club?” asked Marisol.

“I guess we’ll find that out when we get there,” I said. “It might be a private party for club members only, and if it is, me and Remi will have a harder time getting in.”

Remi grinned. “Yeah, much harder. Next to impossible.”

“I heard you mention the Bandidos,” said Marisol. “What if they try to crash the wake?”

“Be best if that didn’t happen, Marisol. “Big trouble would erupt. War would break out. People would die.”

“And the cops would come,” added Remi. “Nobody wants the fucking cops at a wake.”

“Gentil might have extra security on to make sure the Bandidos keep their distance,” I said. “Be the smart thing to do. If it was me, I’d square off a four-block perimeter around the bar and position men at every intersection to block any incoming unfriendlies.”

“Then even if they pounded past the guard positions, Gentil would have advanced warning,” said Remi. “Be better than them storming through the doors of the bar by surprise and cutting everybody down.”

Marisol rolled her eyes. “It doesn’t sound like any wake I’ve ever gone to.”

“And not one you’re going to tonight,” said Remi. “Even if it’s peaceful, it will be rough. Real rough.”

“I’ll take a picture for you, Marisol.”

She smiled. “Thanks, Lukas.”

The Swamp Roadhouse. Desire District.

Remi pointed as we got closer to the big roadhouse in the Desire District of the city, “You were right about the men on point, Lukas. We’ve passed two or three of them already.”

“They didn’t stop us, so they must be watching for opposing clubs and not regular people.”

“Hard to tell, but they didn’t send us back. That was something.”

Remi rounded the corner, and the street next to the roadhouse was cordoned off and turned into a parking lot for the Harleys. “I’ve got to park somewhere else.”

“Go back a block or so. We don’t want to get blocked in later when we might be in a hurry.”

Remi raised an eyebrow. “You planning on doing something I don’t know about?”

“Not yet.”

He laughed as he took a side street and found a spot to park farther from the bar. “This will have to do. Still a ways to walk.”

“Yeah, it is, but it will be better in the long run. Better for our health.”

Over capacity, and understaffed, the management of the Swamp establishment may have thought they were ready for Johnny Cormier’s wake but they were mistaken.

Me and Remi pushed our way in the front door and were greeted by a drunk Banshee who took a swing at me with his Harley chain.

Game on.

I pasted him a good one in the face, and he was so drunk, he fell over backwards onto a tableful of his buddies, and they all laughed. Big joke and more to come.

We searched the bar for cuts that didn’t belong, and no other clubs had broken through the barrier as far as we could see. Still a one-club wake.

“Watch the door for the first Bandido, Remi. We’re out of here when they arrive. I’m looking for Georgia Rome.”

“Yeah, I’ve got my eye on the door.”

The bikers were so fucking loud you couldn’t hear the music blasting out of the speakers. The place was so full of bodies, The Swamp couldn’t provide table service, so the bikers were lined up four-deep at the bar shouting out what they wanted and screaming for faster service.

No way in hell three bartenders could keep up.

Inch by inch, I worked my way through the crowd looking for Georgia Rome. She was the only one worth saving in this entire bar if she was the wealth of information Kamps figured she was.

Remi and I had been squashed into that bar like sardines in a can for at least an hour listening to the hollering and yelling of the Banshees. Most of them raising glasses or bottles and cursing the guy who had taken out Johnny Cormier.

There was a long list of horrible, disgusting things shouted out that were going to happen to Johnny’s killer when the Banshees got hold of him.

I tried to gloss over the details as much as I could.

The midnight hour was marked by the rumble of dozens of incoming bikes, and I figured the Banshees on point were no long drawing breath.

The Bandidos were inside the perimeter and there would be no stopping them now.

I held my breath waiting for the onslaught of gangers to come blasting in both front and back entrances.

“We’ve got to get out of here, Remi.”

“I hear them, Lukas. We best go.”

We weren’t quite fast enough on our exit and the Bandidos swept into the roadhouse like a red tide, busting heads and slitting throats.

I blocked for Remi as we made our way to the back door.

All of the club girls, wives and sweethearts screamed blue murder as the Bandidos grabbed them and ripped at their clothes while others tossed any female within reach over their shoulder and ran out to the parking lot.

Fighting my way to the door I caught a flash of Georgia’s long platinum hair swish by me.

One of the Bandidos with a big beer belly and a scraggly beard had her flung over his shoulder and he was heading outside with her.

“We’ve got to get her, Remi. I’ll take him out. You grab her and run to the truck. I’ll catch up.”

“No. I’m not supposed to leave you, boss. You ain’t healed yet.”

Ignoring Remi’s sensible warning, I moved forward. “Let’s see if we can get her.” I punched a few faces making our way to the back door where I thought I saw the biker go with Georgia.

As we fought our way through the sea of drunken bikers, I wondered why Gentil’s men weren’t trying to protect the boss’ girlfriend, but I had no time to ponder the question in any depth.

Short on breath when I finally caught up, I grabbed hold of the Bandido carrying Georgia, spun him around and fisted him as hard as I could in the throat.

He stumbled backwards and lost his grip on Georgia’s gorgeous thighs. On cue, Remi was right there to grab her and as soon as she was right side up, she recognized me and stopped screaming.

Bonus.

“We gotta go, Georgia.”

She nodded as Remi jockeyed her around and got a better hold on her as we ran out the door into the darkness.

The situation outside The Swamp was worse than inside by far. Fight-to-the-death struggles were taking place all over the blocked-off street.

A free-for-all with noise to match the intensity of the hand-to-hand battles.

Banshees and Bandidos killing each other—just because.

Sounds of sirens ripping through the dark street and they were coming closer. We had to get to the truck before the cops arrived and started hauling everybody off to jail.

Us included.

Hard to explain we were the good guys.

Hospitals would be full to overflowing from all the knife fights and broken bones.

My truck wasn’t close, but we covered the distance in record time. It was hard on Remi carrying Georgia, but I couldn’t carry her that distance. I was coming off broken ribs and bullet wounds and barely healed stab wounds. A combination not conducive to marathons.

Remi placed Georgia in the back seat of the truck, and she wasn’t saying a word. Her breath was coming in short gasps, and I wondered if the Bandidos had hurt her.

“Lay back, Georgia. Catch your breath.”

She nodded.

“Will Diego be looking for you?”

“I don’t know. I think I saw one of the Bandidos hurt him, but I’m not sure.”

Remi eased his way out of the congested area at snail speed, but once he was free of the Desire District he was able to drive at normal speed.

“Drop me off at Caesars and I’ll stash Georgia there for tonight. A safe place for her until morning.”

He drove along the Mississippi and across the waterfront on Convention Center Boulevard. The hotel strip and the boardwalk area were thriving with tourists and partiers. Nobody was sleeping.

“Don’t like dropping you, boss.” Remi pulled into the valet loop in front of the hotel to let me and Georgia out. “Don’t feel right to me.”

“I’ll be home in a couple of hours.”

“I should wait.”

“No use doing that. You go home and sleep. I’ll grab a cab and be there when you wake up.”

“Don’t like it.”

“It’s okay, Remi. I’ll be fine.”

He wasn’t happy when I helped Georgia out of the truck and tried to steady her on her feet. Something was definitely wrong with her, but I hadn’t had time to figure it out.

Caesars Hotel and Casino. Canal Street.

At the reservation desk, I talked to the clerk with one arm around Georgia’s waist to keep her on her feet. She was silent and not complaining, but there was something very wrong with her physically.

I was hoping it wasn’t some major injury she was going to need a doctor or a hospital for because the cops would be in every emergency room in the city. The cops would be there waiting for their prisoners to get sewn up before they took them to the lockup, and the wait time for regular sick people would be lengthy.

I picked up the room key and my receipt when the clerk was done with me and walked slowly towards the bank of elevators. “You doing okay?” I whispered to Georgia.

“Yes.”

The bell rang for the tenth floor, the doors opened, and I helped her out of the elevator. We turned to go down the corridor to our room and she slid right out of my grasp and folded onto the carpet.

Fainted.

I scooped up her hundred and ten pounds and walked the forty feet to the door of our room. While I shoved the keycard in the slot, I had to stand Georgia on her feet and balance her beside me.

She came around at that moment and opened her beautiful eyes. Looked at me like I was the real deal and made it all worth it.

“You’re okay now. We’re here.”

She nodded and reached for my hand.

The first bed inside the room was as far as she went. She flopped down with a groan, and I sat beside her to catch my breath.

“Where are you hurt? I can tell something is wrong.” I waited for her to tell me or show me.

“Drugged. Not sure what it was. The guy who grabbed me stuck me with something and I couldn’t move. The drug made me wonky and slow. Too slow to get away from him.”

“Oh, I get it now. That wasn’t a random grab like they were grabbing the other girls. You were targeted because you belong to Gentil.”

“I think so. The Bandidos would take me someplace and then call and tell Diego what they wanted. That’s only a guess, Lukas.”

“Good guess. If they had a needle ready for you, then that’s exactly what it was. Do you want coffee? I can order some from room service.”

“Tea. Just hot tea. When the drug wears off I’ll be fine. Thanks for being there and saving me, Lukas.” She smiled. “I was planning on calling you.”

“I’d like to believe that.”

“Believe it.”

I ordered tea and coffee and when the tray arrived, Georgia sat propped up with pillows on the bed and sipped her hot tea. She seemed to be coming down off the drug and she was more alert.

I wonder what they injected her with.

When she was feeling better, she used the bathroom and stripped down to her underwear to go to bed.

Sitting on the other bed with my shirt off, I planned to sleep there and watch over her, but Georgia invited me to her bed to sleep with her.

“I’m feeling shaky from the drug, Lukas. I could use you over here.”

I laughed. “How can I turn down an invitation like that? I’m happy to share your bed, Georgia.”

“Since we first met, I’ve thought about you a lot, Lukas. Honestly, I was planning to call you.”

I climbed into the bed beside her knowing full well Diego Gentil would kill me in a second for sleeping with his girlfriend.

After stellar sex with Georgia Rome, she fell asleep, and I got up. I got dressed, pulled my boots on and left her secure in the hotel room.

She has my number if she needs me.

One of the valets working the hotel entrance got me a cab and I went home to Misty’s house to sleep for a couple of hours until morning.

Chapter Four

Wednesday, August 20th.

Nine Saint Gillian Street. Garden District.

Not enough sleep but I had to get up and get going. Misty had left me with a lot of work to do in the City of New Orleans and there was no time for dogging it.

One smoke in the yard while Jack had a run, then I had to get started. I sat down in the kitchen for a coffee with Marisol and after fighting my way out of the fucking Swamp, my half-healed body was aching with fresh bruises.

“You look so tired, Lukas. Should you go back to bed for a couple more hours before you work again?”

“I would love to do that, Marisol. Sounds tempting.”

I had a fantastic night with Georgia, and I knows why Gentil likes her so much. But I don’t know why she’s hanging around with him. What’s her motive? Does she love him? I hope that isn’t it—for her sake.

Remi sat down at the table and Marisol put a mug of coffee in front of her brother.

“Why would Georgia waste time on Diego Gentil unless she was after something else?”

“You hitting me with the hard questions so early in the fucking morning?”

I laughed. “Yeah, I am.”

“No idea why a beautiful girl like her would hang around with the Banshees. Not just the boss, but any of them.”

“Yeah, that’s about where I am too. Can’t figure it out…unless it’s true love or something like that, but Gentil is married, and it seems like he’s sticking with his wife.”

“You don’t think his wife knows about Georgia?” asked Remi.

“Just the impression I got. No confirmation on that guess.”

After breakfast, Marisol wanted to watch the TV news in the sitting room and see the pictures of the wake, so me and Remi took coffee in there and sat with her.

She watched all the arrests and made faces at the pictures of the bloody bikes and the bloodbath on the street in front of The Swamp.

“You guys were lucky you didn’t get hurt if you were inside that roadhouse.”

Remi nodded. “We were in there a little too long, Marisol. Packed full of ornery drunken bikers—a lot of them with blades in their hands.”

“I don’t understand why you had to go.”

“Lukas had something to do there, and we got it done,” said Remi.

“Y’all going to tell me what was so important?”

Remi chuckled. “Nope.”

I was thinking about going back to bed for an hour after breakfast when Kamps called. “Hey, bro. Something going on?”

“Emile’s got something important. Y’all know where he hangs.”

“Yeah, Spotted Dog.”

“He’ll be there at noon when they open.”

“Thanks, we’ll meet him. Any idea how much it will cost me?”

“Nope. He just said it was something you needed to know.”

“Okay, great. Thanks for the call.”

“We gotta go out, Remi,”

“Yeah, I heard. That guy we met the other day.”

“He’s got something important for us.”

Spotted Dog Jazz Club. French Quarter.

Remi easily parked behind the Spotted Dog at noon because the club was beginning their workday and the lot was empty except for employees.

“Nobody here yet, boss.”

“Must be important if LeBarre is here already.”

“Yeah, hope it’s something we can act on right away.”

“Me too.”

LeBarre sat at the same table he’d been at the last time we talked to him, and he was watching for us.

We sat down and he wasted no time getting to the point. “Three hundred.”

I raised an eyebrow because I was using my own money to help Misty. We’d had no discussion about a budget, so I was in the dark about that. Maybe she’d forgotten to brief me on expenses, but she’d get around to it. She was one of the smartest people I’d ever met.

Blacky might be funding this project because it’s something Misty wants done.

Always good to keep in mind that Misty was a psychic and she knew what I was doing and what I was thinking every minute of the day and night.

Scary stuff.

Emile glanced around and confirmed there was no one else in the bar before saying, “The Bandidos are planning to take Gentil out. They intended to do it at the wake, but it didn’t happen because the cops came too fast. That’s what I heard.”

“Where and when?”

“Far as I can tell, they’ve got a tail on Gentil, and they’ll pick their perfect spot when it shows up.”

“That means we’ll have to have eyes on Gentil too,” I said. “What about Georgia Rome? They tried to take her from The Swamp. Darted her and pulled her out of the roadhouse.”

LeBarre shrugged. “Heard that. Also heard some blond guy,” he laughed and pointed at my hair, “took her from the Bandidos and the club is looking for him.”

“Good to know. I hope they intend to give him a reward for his trouble.”

“Don’t think that’s it. What’s your interest, man?” asked LeBarre. “That’s some dangerous shit you’re in the middle of.”

“Madam LeJeune thinks Georgia Rome is key to controlling the Banshees.”

LeBarre shook his head. “I’m a big fan of the Great One, but I’m not seeing that, Lukas. Maybe you should rethink the influence Miss Rome has over the management of the Banshees.”

“Okay, that might be a wise move, Emile. How much do I owe you? Did you say three hundred?”

“Yeah, three, but drop it to two. I can tell you’re not too worried about Gentil dropping out of sight. My info isn’t worth three to you.”

I smiled. “You picked up on that?”

“I did.”

I peeled off two Benjamins and pushed them across the table to Emile. “Any hints on who the replacement will be for Johnny Cormier?”

“Oh, sure, that ain’t in the air. The guy moving up into the Sarge spot is Frenchie Babin. No question about it. He’s next in line and he’s well-suited for the position. Big muscled-up guy who’s dedicated to the boss.”

“He sounds ideal,” said Remi.

“Yeah, he will be,” said Emile.

“We’d better go, Remi. We’ve got work to do.”

“Yeah, boss. Let’s go.”

Gentil Residence. Irish Channel District.

As Remi drove towards Gentil’s house in the Irish Channel District, he said, “I don’t think what he told us was worth even two hundred, Lukas. It’s obvious that the Bandidos want to take Gentil out. You didn’t need anybody telling you that for two hundred fucking dollars.”

“Yeah, that was a little lame, Remi. I have to agree with you. Kamps said LeBarre was his number one guy in the city, and I didn’t want to piss him off if he might come up with something truly spectacular in the future.”

“Better be good next time,” said Remi. “That was a waste of your cash.”

Yeah. So far, all out of my pocket.

“Watch for his house number,” I said as we cruised down Gentil’s street. I’d like to tag his ride.”

“So would a lot of people.”

Gentil’s shotgun house was quiet. Nobody around. Gentil’s Fat Boy sitting next to the side door.

“Want to try for the tag?” asked Remi.

“Yeah, let me out. I’ll walk down the sidewalk and see if anybody notices me.”

“I’ll only be a few feet away. If it gets tight, you run like hell for the truck.”

“Copy that.”

I jumped out of the truck and strolled down the sidewalk in front of the row of colorful shotgun houses, acting as casual as I could.

When I was even with the drive at the side of Gentil’s house, I glanced around to see if anybody was looking my way. All clear.

I ran for the Harley, tagged it and ran back to the truck.

“Do you think anybody saw me?”

“Nope. I was watching close.”

“Great. Let’s go home and have some lunch and I’d like to sleep for an hour if I can fit it in.”

“You should fit it in, boss. You look like shit.”

I laughed. “That’s what Georgia Rome will do to a person, Remi.”

“You know how fuckin’ dangerous it is for you to be screwing the boss’s mistress?”

“Believe me, Remi. I have a good idea.”

“Good, boss. Long as it don’t come as a complete surprise when they come for you.”

Nine Saint Gillian Street. Garden District.

Remi opened the back door for me, and he went straight into the kitchen to have a coffee with his sister while I staggered upstairs and flopped on my bed.

Remi was right.

I needed Georgia Rome in my camp, but maybe I was going about it the wrong way. Felt right, but it could have all the wrong results.

Those were my thoughts when I closed my eyes.

I was out.

When I got up, I showered and cleaned up and went downstairs for dinner. A few hours in the day left, and I still had a lot to do.

“You look a little better, Lukas,” said Marisol. “I think you’ve been working too hard.”

I laughed. “Or not hard enough.”

Banshees’ Clubhouse. Desire District.

We cruised by the clubhouse after dark and at least seventy-five Harleys were lined up in rows next to the clubhouse. The Banshees trekking inside, for what appeared to be a huge meeting, were a sorry looking sight.

Many of them were bandaged or racoon-eyed or limping. Souvenirs of Johnny Cormier’s wake.

Compared to the Banshees, Remi and I got off lucky.

“This could be the vote to put Babin in place,” I said to Remi.”

“Probably is. They have to TCB. They can’t afford for the club to waver when they’re coming under attack from the Bandidos.”

“Ain’t that the fucking truth.”

We sat and watched until they were all inside and then there was nothing more to see.

“We done here?”

“Yep. Let’s move on.”

Rome Residence. Holy Cross District.

From the Banshee’s clubhouse, we cruised by the address Kamps had given me for Georgia Rome. She hadn’t answered my calls during the day and that worried me. There was always the possibility the Bandidos had tracked her down and taken her.

Remi drove into the Holy Cross District of the city, and we located Georgia’s second-story garden apartment. We knocked, but she didn’t answer the door and there was nobody around.

Her balcony overlooked a courtyard filled with well-kept flowerbeds and rose bushes. Aroma therapy, even for me.

We were headed back to Misty’s house when Georgia called and told me where she was.

“I called you twice.” I tried not to sound annoyed, but I was.

“I’m sorry, Lukas. I was on the move trying to make sure I wasn’t being followed.”

“Where are you now?”

“At the Tin Roof in the Warehouse District. A friend of mine owns it.”

“Are you safe there?”

“I don’t know.”

“Stay there. I’ll be there soon, and we’ll talk.”

“Thank you, Lukas.”

Georgia was polite and seemed well-educated. Not that I was a good judge, having not gone to school much at all. Everything I learned was by osmosis.

Tin Roof Bar. Warehouse District.

She was in the back corner of the bar sitting in semi-darkness when Remi and I found her. Long silvery hair cascading down on her shoulders, her perfect face without a trace of makeup. Wearing the same clothes as the day before, she still looked fantastic.

The popular club was crowded—people having a good time at every table. A full band on the stage featuring a well-known blues singer in a long emerald-green dress.

Georgia had a glass of red wine in her hand and an open bottle on the table in front of her.

I sat down across from her and Remi went to the bar to fetch us a couple of beers.

“I’m glad to see you, Lukas.” She reached for my hand and held it for a moment. “I was hoping you’d be beside me when I woke up this morning.”

“I had to go home for a while. You mentioned being followed. Did you actually see any of the Bandidos?”

“No. I didn’t see them, but I felt they were watching me wherever I went.”

“That could have been fear or a little paranoia after the recent snatch and grab. Did you talk to Diego?”

“Yes. He said he was sorry the Bandidos took me, and he asked who helped me and where I stayed the night. A lot of questions and some of them I avoided answering. He told me that it wasn’t over, and I should lay low and stay out of sight.”

“What did you tell him about me?”

“I told him the truth. You are a friend who is watching out for me.”

Remi returned with the beer and heard her last remark. He frowned knowing how well that probably went over with Diego Gentil. He wouldn’t want anyone outside the club watching over his girlfriend.

“Did you ask him why the club wasn’t protecting you? That should’ve been your question, Georgia. Why isn’t Gentil manning up where you’re concerned? That’s what I want to know.”

“Diego said he didn’t know who he could trust with me, but they were ratifying Cormier’s replacement at the meeting tonight and as soon as it was official, he would send Francois to me.”

“Frenchie Babin?”

Georgia nodded her head. “I don’t want him hovering over me, Lukas. I don’t like him.”

“Reason?”

“Not a real reason, but Francois will think me a poor use of his time and he won’t mind saying so. Perhaps I know him a little too well, and it is not good when we are in close quarters.”

“You have a personal relationship with Frenchie Babin?”

“Many years ago.”

“That complicates things, Georgia. Let me make a call or two and I’ll find a safe place for you to stay.”

“Thank you, Lukas. You have been kind to me, and I’ll repay you in any way I can.”

Remi rolled his eyes.

“During all of this upheaval with the Bandidos, have you given any thought to breaking it off with Gentil?”

“Of course I would be safer away from him, but at the moment that is inadvisable. There are other factors involved.”

“That you can’t tell me about?”

“Correct. There are many secret dealings in the city, and no one can know about them.”

“Only you?”

She laughed.

“Do these secret dealings that keep you tied to Diego have anything to do with the Bandidos?”

“No.”

“Then they are mob-related,” I said.

Georgia raised an eyebrow. “You know that, Lukas, how?”

“We all have our own agendas, Georgia. I’ll find you a place to stay. Be right back.”

I left Remi in the booth with Georgia and stepped out the back door of the bar into the parking lot to call Misty for help. Too hot standing outside, but I tolerated it long enough to make the call.

“Lukas, I’ve been meaning to talk to you. I saw the big funeral ride on the news along with the wake for Johnny Cormier. That didn’t turn out well.”

“No, it didn’t. It was something else.”

“And now Georgia is in danger of being taken?”

“She is in the middle of something and the Bandidos tried to take her from the wake.”

“Georgia Rome has a history, and you need to be careful of her. She may help you—if she likes you—or she may cause you trouble.”

“I’ll be careful of her, Misty, but thanks for the warning. Remi and I are just getting to know the players in this little game of city corruption.”

“You can trust Remi and Marisol. They are family and would never betray me or you.”

“I am thankful for both of them. They are good people.”

“I’m giving you an address, Lukas. You can take Georgia there and she’ll be safe.”

“Thanks, Misty.”

“The key to the house will be tied to Banjo’s leg. He’ll be watching for you.”

“Okay, thanks.”

I had no idea who Banjo was, and at times Misty could be a little spooky, but I went back inside the bar and told Georgia I had a place for her.

She smiled at me and my heart melted. Along with the warm fuzzy feeling came a flash of jealousy aimed at Diego Gentil and I wanted him gone. So much for being careful of Georgia. I had to take a step back—for safety’s sake.

“Did you write the address down, boss?” asked Remi.

“Yes. It’s in the Garden District, so we can drop Georgia off on our way home.”

Remi took the slip of paper from me as we walked to the truck. “Let’s see if we can find this house.”

“Why wouldn’t we be able to find it? We have the address.”

Remi shrugged. “Rose Street can be tricky.”

I had no idea what that meant and I didn’t ask. I handed Georgia into the front seat of the truck and jumped into the back.

Remi pulled into the street and checked the rearview and his side mirror to make sure we weren’t being followed.

Thirteen Rose Street. Garden District.

Remi pulled up to the curb in front of the huge mansion where we were supposed to take Georgia.

“This is where I’m staying?” she looked up at the three-story historic home in wonder. A round turret faced the street with a light on in the highest room.

“That could be a night light for security,” said Remi staring straight up.

“This place makes me nervous,” said Georgia. “The houses on Rose Street are so…ominous.”

“I’m not familiar with this street, but my friend said you’d be safe here.”

“I don’t have any clothes or toiletries with me, Lukas,” Georgia said nervously. “Perhaps I should go home and take my chances.”

“Remi and I can pack a few things for you at your address, if you’d like. We’ll bring them over tomorrow.”

“Thank you.”

“Or maybe you could ask Diego.” I didn’t mean to sound as sarcastic as I did and immediately regretted it. “He could get what you need and bring a bag over here for you.”

“Whatever you think is best, Lukas. I’ve been so scared since I was attacked, I can hardly think at all.”

My emotions were all over the place when I was near her. I wanted to protect her. I felt bad she was attacked by the Bandidos. I was jealous of Gentil. I was annoyed that she clung to Gentil for unknown reasons. I wanted to stay away from her for my own good, but I couldn’t do it. I was a mess.

I led the way up the steps to the wide veranda glancing around for someone named Banjo waiting for us with the key.

I didn’t have to look too far.

A bird with shiny, blue-black feathers zoomed out of the night sky and perched on the railing right next to me. He held up one foot and I removed the band from his tiny leg holding the key.

Georgia stared at me in disbelief, and I brushed it off as if crows brought me keys all the time. “Here we go. Let’s get you inside.”

I unlocked the heavy door, and it squeaked open with some resistance. Remi pushed in first saying, “Let me have a quick look.”

The house was clean and modern inside, and I had no idea who owned it. Maybe Misty did.

“You should be safe here until further notice, Georgia.”

“I saw you with the crow, Lukas. Do you have the goods?”

Remi smiled at me waiting for the answer.

“I do not.”

Chapter Five

Thursday, August 21st.

Nine Saint Gillian Street. Garden District.

Still tired, I forced myself to get out of bed. Wishing for another two hours of sleep, I trudged downstairs looking for coffee and heard Remi telling Marisol about the house on Rose Street. I didn’t know what was weird about that street but both of them seemed to. That house made Georgia nervous. I noticed that.

I sat down at the end of the table and asked, “Do you think Misty owns that house?”

“Our families grew up together here in the city and I’ve never been in that house before,” said Remi. “I was asking Marisol if she knew anything about it.”

Marisol shook her head. “I’ve never been to any house on Rose Street. It’s supposed to be one of the streets in New Orleans where a lot of the houses are haunted. Many tourists walk Rose Street hoping to see a ghost inside a house or two.”

“Didn’t feel haunted—not that I’m an expert—but inside it wasn’t old and spooky like this house. It had been updated.”

Remi nodded.

“What number was it on Rose Street?” asked Marisol as she placed plates of eggs and biscuits in front of me and Remi.

“Number thirteen,” said Remi with a roll of his dark eyes.

Marisol nodded like that meant something to her.

“As soon as we get rolling, we’ll go to Holy Cross and get clothes for Georgia and take them to her, then we have a meeting with Alonso Lort.”

“He’s the guy who knows about the political bribery,” said Remi. “This is where it’s going to get dicey.”

“Misty probably has verified that the people on her list are dirty, but if this guy Lort starts whipping names at us, we won’t know if they’ve been documented or photographed receiving money or if there’s physical evidence against them or if he’s blowing wind out his ass.”

“Maybe he’ll bring pictures of the payoffs,” said Marisol. “Pictures don’t lie.”

“Possibly. I’m not sure where to start stirring things up in the political sector. There are so many names in Misty’s notebook.”

“Start with the stars,” said Remi. “One by one, those people have to go.”

“You’re right. I was hoping to get the Banshees a little more under control before I started on the city employees, but maybe we should tackle both sides of the problem at the same time. Do it all together.”

“We can’t let anybody throw us off course, boss,” said Remi.

Like Georgia is doing?

“You’re right, Remi. We have to stay focused on our task and get this job done for Misty.”

He gave me a hard stare, and I knew exactly what he was thinking.

Rome Residence. Holy Cross District.

Remi drove us to Georgia’s place to pick up clothes and her toiletries from the bathroom vanity. In the bedroom closet, Remi found a suitcase and we took clothes out of her dresser drawers and from hangers, not having a clue what we were doing.

“What if she don’t want to wear the stuff we bring her, boss?”

“Then she can send somebody else over here, Remi. We’ve got other work to do. You reminded me of that at breakfast. I can’t spend all day fussing over Georgia.”

“Not trying to piss you off, boss, but I can see Georgia getting in your head. Bad idea to mess with Gentil’s woman, boss. That worries me.”

“Not one of my brightest moves, Remi. I admit it.”

He laughed. “You can’t undo it, but you can keep from getting in any deeper. Know what I’m sayin’?”

“I hear you.”

While Remi and I were packing, the front door opened, and we heard a bunch of guys come in. Sounded like three or four talking to each other in Cajun French. Remi would understand what they were saying, but I didn’t.

They stomped into the bedroom, Frenchie Babin and three more of the Banshees. He was in a foul mood like Georgia had predicted, muttering about being assigned to watch the boss’s bitch when he had better things to do.

“Who the fuck are you?” Babin dove across the room at me without warning and slammed me up against the dresser. Short and muscular, he was strong but awkward and slow, and he wasted a lot of his momentum. A street fighter without any survival training.

I kneed him in the nuts and could’ve broken his neck easily enough but chose to slam his face into the edge of the nightstand instead.

The impact made a nice deep groove across his cheek. Broke the skin and the blood was slow to come.

Babin’s three buddies dove in to help him, and Remi and I had fun with the four of them until Babin held up a hand and said he didn’t want to fight anymore.

“If you didn’t come here to fight with me, what the fuck do you want, asshole?”

“I’m supposed to be protecting Georgia from the grab the Bandidos have out on her and I can’t find her. That’s what I want—to find Georgia. Gentil has already called me twice and he’s pissed at me.”

“I can help you. All you had to do was ask me.”

Babin leaned on the dresser with a bloody hand against the side of his face and watched me call Georgia.

“Lukas, are you coming over here? This huge house is scaring me.”

“I’m with Babin at your place, Georgia, getting your clothes. Gentil sent him to cover you, and he doesn’t know where you are, obviously. Do you want him there or not? It’s your call.”

“Okay. If Diego sent him, you’ll have to bring him over here, and I’ll deal with him.”

“Double check with Diego right now and make sure these guys are acting on his orders.”

“Good thinking, Lukas,” Georgia drawled. She sounded like I’d woken her up. “I’ll call you right back.”

Waiting for Georgia’s call, I stood looking over the balcony railing into the courtyard below. Babin and his men leaned on the wall recovering from the beating we handed them. Two of them were going to have messed up faces for the next few days.

My cell rang and Georgia verified that Diego had sent Babin to look after her. “I’ll deliver them to you, and then you’re on your own, girl.”

“Thanks, Lukas. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”

“You’re welcome, babe.” I turned to Babin. “Let’s go. Follow me.”

Not satisfied to leave things where they were, Babin took a stance in front of me and stuck a finger in my face. “I’m not happy about you knowing where Georgia is—whoever the fuck you are—and I’m telling Gentil there’s something going on with you and his bitch that he don’t want to know about.”

“Tell him whatever you want, Babin. Don’t matter a flying fuck to me.”

“It will matter when he kills your ass.”

I shrugged. “I’ll worry about it then.”

Thirteen Rose Street. Garden District.

Babin and his Banshee buddies followed us through the city on their rides, and they set their kickstands at the curb when Remi parked in front of Number Thirteen Rose Street.

As we walked up the path to the front door Babin bitched loudly about wasting his valuable time watching Georgia Rome.

Geogia opened the door to let us in and Babin hollered in her face, “I should be watching the boss’s back, not wasting my time watching yours.”

Georgia opened her beautiful mouth and laid an angry string of curses on Babin in a feisty Cajun dialect.

Whatever she shouted at Babin made Remi raise an eyebrow.

“If you guys are okay here, Remi and I have to go to a meeting.”

“Thank you, Lukas,” said Georgia in her soft Louisiana drawl. She smiled at me as she rolled her eyes towards Frenchie Babin. “I’ll be in touch very soon.”

Louisiana Beans. Downtown. New Orleans.

Because of Frenchie Babin’s interference, Remi and I were late for our meeting with Alonso Lort. He was the informant Kamps recommended to supply us with information about the New Orleans political scene.

It took us a few minutes to find him in the crowded coffee shop. When we did locate him at one of the tables near the back, he wasn’t what I expected. A short, chunky guy carrying a few extra pounds. Round face, silver-rimmed glasses and reddish hair.

“Lukas Foret, Mister Lort. This is Remi LeJeune, my associate.”

He shook hands with both of us and as soon as we sat down he motioned the server over and ordered coffee for us. “Thanks, Debra.” Soft-spoken, he smiled at the girl.

“My pleasure, Alonso.”

Debra brought our coffee and Alonso waited until she left the table before asking for any questions we might have. “What in particular do you wish to know about the city structure? Mister Kamps said y’all were on the verge of something big that would be good for the city, and I could help facilitate your efforts.”

“First off, I need to know who the shot caller is for the mob here in New Orleans.”

“That’s an easy one. Frank Barrington is the guy. All the power and dozens of guys underneath him to make sure everything is done the way Frank wants it done.”

“Is he married with a family?”

“Not presently. He’s in the process of being divorced from his wife, Georgia. She goes by her maiden name now.”

“Rome,” I said with a glance at Remi.

“That’s right,” said Lort. “Do you know her?”

“We’ve met.”

Remi rolled his dark eyes.

I glanced through Misty’s notebook while Lort was talking, and Frank Barrington’s name was there with a star beside it. No mention of him being king of the mob.

The stars meant elimination.

So many stars.

So little time.

Barrington Residence. Audubon District.

We left Alonso Lort at the coffee shop after paying him a hundred and fifty bucks for the info he gave us. A few new names, but they had to be verified as dirty players before we could take any action against them.

The address Lort provided for the big mafia boss was in the Audubon District and the big cheese did live on a lovely street.

Huge mature trees surrounding an impressive mansion with acres of manicured grass. No doubt with a high-end security system.

It must have taken a major incident for the former Georgia Barrington to give up all of that luxury and play second fiddle to Diego Gentil’s wife.

Why would she do that?

“We’ll come back tonight and take a closer look.”

Remi nodded but he didn’t show a lot of enthusiasm for breaching the mob boss’s iron gate.

We went home to regroup, had dinner with Marisol and cleaned up a little for our second trip to the Barrington residence. Remi was hesitant about our return visit. No doubt about it.

Remi turned down Barrington’s street and it was lined with parked vehicles. Beemers, a couple of Maseratis, dozens of black SUVs with tinted windows, Jaguars, and on and on.

“Looks like there’s a party going on, boss,” said Remi.

“Want to see if we can get in?”

“No. I do not.”

“I do.”

“Such a bad idea, boss. We’re not ready for a move this big.”

“Sometimes those unplanned moves work out well, Remi.”

“Other times, they get you dead,” he muttered.

“In my line of work, there’s always a high risk.”

He drove by the house and parked at the end of the street where there was a spot big enough for my truck.

Thugs in black suits on point around the Barrington estate and they weren’t wearing their welcoming faces. We’d have to go around them, or through them. Around would be quieter and give us the element of surprise.

The fence surrounding the entire perimeter of the Barrington estate was wrought iron with spikes pointing skyward. Not easy to climb, but manageable if it wasn’t electrified.

“Let’s check the fence,” I whispered to Remi. “See if it’s going to be a shocker.”

“Fuck, Lukas. This is all wrong. We are not ready to move on number one.”

“You’re right. We’re not ready. That’s what makes it so much fun.”

“We’re not dressed for the party and they’re going to spot us right away.”

“Stay in the shadows and the fashion police won’t catch you.”

“Jesus, Lukas, this ain’t funny.”

About halfway down the length of the yard, I climbed the fence, expecting an electrical jolt and didn’t get one.

Dogs maybe?

I listened and didn’t hear any barking.

Probably kenneled for the party.

Rotties on vacay.

Lucky break for us.

A glance over my shoulder and Remi was up and over the fence, his face wearing a silent protest. He was a big guy, muscular and capable. No worries there.

“He’s not happy about this,” I mumbled to myself as I ran from the flowerbed I landed in to the back of the massive house.

Remi joined me moments later and while we caught our breath, I made a quick plan. “You know what Frank Barrington looks like?”

“Seen him in the paper and on TV a couple of times.”

“Point him out to me and then go back and sit in the truck. Start the engine.”

“Shit, Lukas. This ain’t the right time.”

“It’s an opportunity, Remi. We won’t get many of them. This guy is closely guarded. Tonight, with the party going on, security will be relaxed a little. It’s the ideal time to do this.”

“You’re right about the opportunity, but with no planning, things could go so fucking wrong.”

“I’ll be extra careful. We’ll have a beer on the back porch when we get home. Focus on that.”

“Sure. Wish I was there right now.”

Remi made me chuckle.

We edged closer to the action so we could see the people milling around the pool area. Tables were set up with waiters in uniform circulating with huge trays of finger foods and drinks.

A tall guy with silver hair and a big smile on his face was making the rounds to each table and talking to all of the guests.

I figured it was Barrington, but I needed confirmation.

“Is that him, Remi?”

“Yeah, that’s him, but you’ve got no chance of getting close to him.”

“Remi, I’ve got this. Climb the fence and go back to the truck for a smoker. Should be one in my gun safe in the back. Run up front and toss it at the house. Just give me a chance.”

“Aw, fuck, Lukas. A grenade? We’re both gonna do time for this.”

“Maybe me, but you never will. Misty will make sure of it.” I pointed. “Go, now. Run.”

“Fuck you, Lukas.”

I laughed, but Remi was right. This plan had very little chance of succeeding.

Edging back against the stone wall at the back of the mansion, I was dying for a smoke, but somebody might see the glow of my butt and out me.

While I waited for the diversion, I watched the pool area and never took my eyes off Frank Barrington, Georgia’s almost ex-husband. She felt no need to give me that information and I was ill-prepared to jump into the deep end without a life preserver.

But I did it anyway.

My bad.

Boom.

I had Barrington in my sights when the smoke bomb went off and as soon as the guests ran helter-skelter creating a lot of confusion, I made a beeline for Barrington.

His men were running everywhere trying to help the guests and he was virtually deserted for a couple of seconds.

That’s all the time I needed.

I broke his neck and tossed him in the pool.

Splash.

Then I beat it.

I ran for the fence way down the yard where it was darkest and climbed over.

Through the neighbor’s property, I ran for the street and Remi was waiting for me with the engine throbbing.

I hopped in out of breath and didn’t need to tell him to get the hell out of there.

Chapter Six

Friday, August 22nd.

Nine Saint Gillian Street. Garden District.

Remi and I were both dragging ass at the breakfast table.

Marisol stared at us as she put mugs of coffee on each of our placemats. “What were you guys doing last night?”

“Working,” we both said at the same time and that made her laugh.

“I’m not sure I believe either one of you.”

“Believe it,” snapped Remi. “We were working, and it wasn’t fun at all. Not even a little bit.”

Remi’s tone indicated he was still pissed at me in a big way.

Marisol looked concerned. “Were you fighting...like …with each other? I can tell when Remi is mad about something, Lukas.”

“We had a slight disagreement,” said Remi.

“Slight, Marisol. I think it’s over now.”

“Remi looks mad still,” she focused on her brother’s face and frowned.

“He’ll get over it. I’ll make it up to him today. It was on me. Not his fault. He was right and I was wrong.”

Remi nodded with a hint of satisfaction on his face.

My cell rang.

“Georgia.”

Remi was shaking his head as I stepped out the back door and stood in the sunroom to listen to Georgia Rome scream at me.

“My husband is dead, and I have a strong feeling that you’re the one responsible.”

“Why would you think that? I didn’t even know you were married, Georgia. When we were together in the hotel, you didn’t mention your husband to me. Was that an oversight?”

“Stop it, Lukas. You sought me out in the bar, and you suddenly appeared in my life. Not by chance. There was a reason for that, and I wasn’t sure what that reason was at the time. Now Frank is dead.”

“Frank was your ex. You’re divorced.”

“Not quite. Things between us were not settled and now Frank is dead. You have no idea the position this puts me in.”

“Not my worry, babe.”

“Huh. Aren’t you the sympathetic guy.”

“I try.”

“No, you don’t, Lukas. I wish I’d never met you.”

“Bullshit. We have more of a connection than that. I’m coming over there.”

Georgia began sobbing and I felt bad for a minute or so. I figured she was playing Frank Barrington against Diego Gentil, but maybe that wasn’t what was going on at all.

I went back into the kitchen and said, “I have to go around to Rose Street for a few minutes.”

Remi broke out laughing. “I’m not surprised, boss. You kicked the hornet’s nest, and the city is going to blow apart today.”

“That’s what we want, Remi. Exactly what Misty wants. A complete upheaval where the city ends up with all new management.”

“Yeah, I remember what she said,” said Remi. “But at the time I guess I didn’t realize how rough you played.”

“Why in hell do you think she asked me to do the job, Remi? Why?”

“Yeah, I get it now, Lukas. You’re the perfect person to get this done.”

“Breakfast is ready,” said Marisol. “Eat before y’all run off and I won’t have to throw all this food to the dogs.”

“What dogs?” I sat down and took a forkful of spicy scrambled eggs.

“The ones in the back lane,” said Remi. “Marisol’s been feeding them and more come every day.”

“Jesus. Wild dogs at the gate. Was that an old movie?”

Remi wasn’t in a laughing mood, but I made Marisol smile. She was so cute, and she laughed at both of us frequently.

Remi and I ate quickly and finished our coffee. Things to do and places to go. We were on the move.

We were halfway to Rose Street when Alonso Lort called and wanted to meet. “Can you make it this afternoon, Alonso? The morning is shaping up to be busy.”

“Sure. Call and let me know when you’ll be at the coffee shop.”

“Roger that.”

“You sound like a cop,” said Remi.

“I am a cop.”

“Yeah, I keep forgetting that, boss.”

Thirteen Rose Street. Garden District.

Just as Remi was pulling up to the curb, Georgia ran out the front door of number thirteen waving her arms and shouting at us. Probably me more than Remi.

A wad of tissues in her hand and red-rimmed eyes like she’d been crying over Frank Barrington. I felt a little sorry for her.

“Lukas, I can’t stay here much longer with Babin bossing me around and calling me down every five minutes. He’s such an asshole.”

“Tell it to your boyfriend. There’s no point telling me, babe. Have you talked to Diego this morning?”

She nodded, and I caught the scent of her shampoo, and just…her… and I recalled Remi’s warning not to get in any deeper.

“Diego is coming over soon to talk to me. He said we need to have a quick meeting on how things are going to go today. I’d like you to stay.”

I shook my head. “Not possible. I’m not in your little group of players, Georgia. You watch your step.”

“I’m scared, Lukas. Somebody killed Frank at our house, and it was pretty secure. Now there will be a huge restructuring inside Frank’s organization and there are several guys near the top who don’t like me. I wish you’d stay with me.”

“That’s not the best idea, girl. Your boyfriend doesn’t want me hanging around. I heard he had people out looking to cap me. We’ll talk later.”

Georgia looked me right in the eye. “Who killed Frank, Lukas? Was it you?”

“Nope. I was at home in bed sleeping.” I tilted my head towards Remi as if he would alibi me.

Georgia gave me a sideways glance filled with doubt.

She doesn’t believe me.

Nine Saint Gillian Street. Garden District.

Remi drove the few blocks back to Misty’s house and we settled on the back porch with coffee. We had things to talk over for the day ahead.

“What do you think of me calling the Bandidos and telling Suarez where Gentil is going to be in the next half hour?”

“Jesus, Lukas. What the fuck? You want to do that on top of what you did last night? That is a terrible idea. Horrible. I’m surprised how your crazy mind works. You come up with some God-awful shit.” Remi got to his feet and paced on the porch.

“On the surface, it might look horrible, but what if Suarez came charging over to Rose Street to take Gentil out and we got there in time to save Gentil? That would be points for us. Move us closer inside Gentil’s inner circle.”

“Uh huh, that’s a little better. But even if you call and give Suarez a tip, it doesn’t guarantee he’s going to act on it.”

“Nope, it doesn’t. Want to try it?”

“Hell no.”

I flipped through the pages of Misty’s notebook knowing I’d seen the number in there for the head of the Bandidos. No telling where Misty got her information, but Chet Kamps might have helped her put the notebook together. I wouldn’t be surprised if Blacky helped with it too. Blacky would do anything for his wife.

When I pulled my cell out of my pocket, Remi shook his head and wouldn’t watch me. I strolled down the garden path to the fishpond and made the call to the president of the New Orleans Bandidos.

Couldn’t tell if Suarez believed me or not, but he was plenty surprised that somebody—anybody—had his personal cell number. He asked me three times who I was.

Once the word was dropped on him, I had to get back to Rose Street to see if he’d take the bait.

I motioned to Remi and ran through the gate to the truck parked in the back laneway. Several dogs were sleeping in the weeds back there and I figured they were the ones Marisol was feeding.

Remi protested as he got behind the wheel of my truck. “I can’t believe you’re doing this, Lukas. This is some crazy shit and I’m not sure I signed on for this.”

Pissed at his attitude, I turned to him and held up my hand. “Get out of the truck and stay here. I don’t need you.”

“I can’t stay here. Misty told me to stick with you.”

“I don’t want you hating me, and I don’t want you getting hurt because of me, Remi. I’m okay with you opting out.”

“Not a quitter, boss. This situation is just accelerating a little fast for me. That’s all it is.”

“We’ll do this one, then we’ll go drink coffee with Alonso and chill for the rest of the day.”

Remi managed a smile. “Okay.”

Thirteen Rose Street. Garden District.

We were turning the corner onto Rose Street when four Harleys roared past us tearing up the asphalt. They came to a screeching halt in front of number thirteen, laid their rides gently down and ran towards the house hollering and yelling.

In a stupid macho move, Gentil opened the door without sending Babin out first. Made me question his IQ level.

Suarez fired on the run and Gentil hit the dirt. The shot intended for him hit Georgia who was coming out the door right behind him.

She screamed once, then fell in a sobbing heap on the doorstep.

Running to catch up with the action, I fired four quick shots and took out Suarez and his three muchachos. They all went down but they weren’t all dead.

As I ran by the Bandidos screaming and rolling on the grass clutching their various wounds, I put a bullet in Suarez’s head and left the other three for Remi to finish off.

I ran to the door and scooped Georgia up. “Where are you hit, babe?”

Tears streamed down her face as she looked up at me. “This is all you, isn’t it, Lukas? Who are you? Where did you come from?”

Gentil scrambled to his feet, and he wasn’t hurt. He brushed himself off and ranted to Babin in Cajun French while he pointed at the dead guys on the front lawn.

Babin was all concerned about Gentil’s close call, making sure his boss was in one piece. Neither one of them seemed to give a flying fig that there was a bullet hole in Georgia.

I’d placed her on an iron bench not far from the front flower bed. “Better get your woman to the hospital, Gentil. She took a bullet for you.”

He gave me the finger and hollered in my face. “I can manage my own affairs.” First time I’d heard him speak in English and he had a heavy Cajun dialect. Spoke a lot like Felix and Clovis, my friends from Thibodaux, and it made me wonder if they knew him.

“Whatever. Let’s go, Remi.” Hated leaving Georgia in Gentil’s hands, but he was right—she was his girlfriend and not mine.

We ran to the truck and Remi got us away from Rose Street before the cops came to see what the gunfire was all about.

“What do you think is going to happen now, boss?”

“No idea, Remi. We’ve knocked some of the main players out. Might be an ideal time for us to crack down on the city people.”

“Yeah, I can see that you actually do have a plan, boss, and you’re not just…going off in all directions. It’s actually coming together now. Let’s go talk to the political guy.”

I smiled and gave Remi a fist bump for not being pissed at me so much.

Louisiana Beans. Downtown New Orleans.

At the coffee shop where Alonso Lort liked to hang out, we found him at his favorite window table. When we sat down, he was immersed in reading some kind of annual city report he’d gotten his hands on.

“There will be repercussions in many areas of the government, both in the city and in the state of Louisiana now that Frank Barrington is deceased.” Lort gave me a hard stare questioning whether I had anything to do with the mob boss’s sudden demise.

I shrugged it off. “Any number of people wanted him dead,” I said.

“Probably true,” said Lort. “His enemies will move in quickly while his organization is weak.”

“Any clue who will be leading that charge?”

“Gentil of course,” said Lort. “He’s always been second in power in the city. Under Barrington’s thumb but doing his own thing at the same time with his club. I’m convinced he’ll try to take over, but he may not succeed.”

“Uh huh. I can see that.”

“What about Georgia, the ex-wife? Where exactly does she fit in? Why did she move from Barrington to Gentil?”

“All good questions, Lukas,” said Lort. “Barrington cheated on her with a woman named Adrienne Aucoin and Georgia left him. Their divorce is still unsettled, as far as I know. They are still married, and she will inherit the mob money and be regarded as Frank’s wife. Her life was with Frank for many years as he moved up in the organization. She’s well-known for the power she wielded over Frank Barrington. Georgia Rome was a huge decision maker in this city.”

“I didn’t realize that I guess. Where is this Adrienne woman now?”

“Living in the Barrington mansion at last report,” said Lort.

“Okay. Who is second in the mob?”

“That would be Gabriel Lamontagne. He’ll be number one now and taking over the reins and probably the city. He’s a powerful man.”

“Will he get opposition from Gentil?”

“Definitely, but like I said, I’m not sure if Gentil is strong enough to oppose the syndicate, Lukas. He’s arrogant enough to believe he can take over, but I’m not sure he can do it with the manpower he has. The mob has most of the city on its payroll.”

“Then all of those people will be on Gentil’s payroll if he takes over the mob. Have I got that right?”

“I’m not sure there will ever be a merger like that, Lukas. I can’t see it happening.”

“Things can change if a lot of the key players are no longer in positions of power, Alonso.”

He nodded. “The bribery system in the city has been in place for a very long time.”

“Perhaps it’s time for it to end.”

“It would be a miracle for our city if it did end, Lukas. The citizens might begin to get what they deserve from their hard-earned tax dollars.”

University Hospital. Downtown. New Orleans.

Remi sat in the waiting area and drank coffee while I visited Georgia in her hospital room. She opened her eyes when I sat down next to her bed and touched her hand.

A dry throat made her soft southern drawl crackle slightly when she spoke, “Lukas, I didn’t expect you to come to see me.”

“Why not? I thought we were a little more than just friends.”

“We are, but I was upset and accused you of causing everything that was going wrong in my life.”

“You were married to Frank Barrington, babe. That had nothing to do with me, and it could have everything to do with getting you into a helluva lot of trouble.”

She fidgeted around in the bed and tried to sit up straighter. “I have to get out of here and plan Frank’s funeral.”

“Won’t the new girlfriend do it?” I winked at Georgia, and she wasn’t amused.

“I’m still married to Frank and it’s my responsibility.”

“You could make calls from here while you’re recovering. Did the doctor say when he’s releasing you?”

“Later today or tomorrow morning.”

“Will you be able to manage on your own when you get out?”

“I believe so.”

“Where exactly were you hit?”

“The bullet went through the side of my leg, and it hurts a lot where the stitches are, but I’ll be able to walk around and get things done, I think.”

“Have you tried out the leg yet?” I smiled at her and studied her face. Even without a trace of makeup, her skin was flawless.

“Yes. I’ve been to the bathroom. One of the nurses helped me, and it wasn’t too painful.”

“What about Gentil? Is he going to rally around and help you out?”

“No. I’m sure he won’t. I’m going home to my own house to get ready for the funeral and I won’t need Diego or Francois hanging over me. Frank’s men will be guarding the house, and they’ll help me if I need it.”

“What about the woman living in your house, babe?”

“I sent my lawyer to throw her off my property. She’s already gone.”

I chuckled. “Lucky for you, you weren’t quite divorced yet.”

“Frank was fighting the divorce and that’s why it was dragging on. He wanted a reconciliation, and I was thinking about forgiving him. We were happy for many years before he cheated on me.”

“I can’t see why any man would cheat on you, Georgia.”

“That’s sweet of you, Lukas, but I guess Frank had his reasons.”

I figured I knew what those reasons were, but I kept them to myself. “Has Diego come to see you?”

“No. And I wasn’t pleased with the way he ignored me when I was shot and bleeding. You were the only one who was concerned, Lukas, and I won’t forget that. I don’t think I’ll let Diego gloss that over.”

“He’s married, babe. You should give him up.”

“You giving advice on love now, Lukas?”

“From where I’m standing, babe, you’re in line to get the short end of the stick. I don’t want to see that happen to you.”

“Francois said the same thing. He hates the way Diego treats me.”

“Don’t put up with it, girl. You are too good for Gentil, and it looks like he’s sticking with his wife. You lose.”

Georgia nodded. “I’m moving back to my own house, and I’ll think about your advice.”

“Your life, babe. Take a step away from the chaos and be good to yourself.”

She smiled. “Thank you, Lukas.”

I gathered Remi up from the waiting room and we went home.

Nine Saint Gillian Street. Garden District.

Remi and I got a surprise when we returned to Misty’s place. She was in the kitchen cooking dinner and drinking wine with Marisol.

“Misty, you’re here in New Orleans. This is a great surprise.”

“I didn’t want to miss the big funeral, Lukas. There will be so many opportunities presenting themselves during that event.” She gave me a big smile.

“You’re right. I was thinking the same thing.”

After a dinner of very spicy gumbo, we had a big discussion about what Frank Barrington’s death meant for New Orleans.

Misty told me about people who were ruining the city and giving the state of Louisiana a bad name. They were doing worse things than taking bribes and stealing tax dollars from the citizens.

“The Deputy Governor of Louisiana is into sex trafficking and he’s importing young girls from the Gulf and bringing them by boat up the bayou into the city.”

“We came up that way recently,” I said, “and it was an arduous trip.”

“It is a difficult run,” said Misty, “but we must stop him. The man is using his position to ruin hundreds of lives for his own gain. We must put an end to the man and to his crimes against the helpless.”

“We’ll start on it right after the funeral.”

Remi nodded in agreement.

“Let’s talk about the day of the funeral and what we want to accomplish while we have crowd cover.”

“We have tomorrow to plan that, Lukas. I have notes in my bag upstairs.”

“Sure. I’m probably jumping the gun.”

Misty smiled. “No. You just have a lot of enthusiasm for your work.”

That made me laugh.

Chapter Seven

Saturday, August 23rd.

Nine Saint Gillian Street. Garden District.

After breakfast, I opened up the subject of Barrington’s burial. “Can we talk about the funeral tomorrow?”

“Of course,” said Misty. She whipped a notebook out of her pocket and flipped through the pages.  “I’ve tried to narrow down our focus to the most crucial people who are standing in the way of a cleanly run city and state.” She smiled. “Not every micro-criminal is worthy of your risk, Lukas. Although, there are hundreds of them who will be dealt with in lesser ways.”

What are those lesser ways, Misty?

“Okay. I can see how it would be essential to know the main cogs in the city hall wheel.”

Remi nodded. He always seemed much calmer and grounded when his cousin was present, and I didn’t know why that was. I figured he trusted her more than me to be sending us in the right direction.

“The current mayor of N’Orleans will be at the funeral and he is a blood-sucking leech getting rich from the city coffers,” said Misty with anger in her voice. “In the history of this great city, the infrastructure has never been worse and that’s because of a complete lack of budget for essential repairs.”

“Okay, do we have a picture of him?” I asked.

“Remi, could you pull up a picture of our esteemed mayor, Charles Blanchard?”

“Sure.” Remi scrolled a bit, then passed his phone to me so I could see the guy who had to go.

“Okay. I know what he looks like. I’ll be watching for him tomorrow.”

“I’m sure the Governor will attend the funeral,” said Misty, “and with Michael Lambert will be the Deputy Governor hanging on his coattails.”

“That’s the guy running the sex trafficking?”

“Yes. Yvan Chauvin. A nasty piece of work, but as you said, we’re saving him for after the funeral when we take down his entire operation.”

“It will take time to dismantle the system he has in place importing the girls and transporting them from the Gulf. There must be recruiters and runners and men in the staging depots, and a thorough investigation will be needed to round all of those men up and put them behind bars.”

“I believe Clovis and Felix will be helpful when we are ready to proceed with the cleanup,” said Misty. “They are very knowledgeable in the bayou channels where these men may be hiding, and they have the authority we will need for the arrests.”

“Yes, they are amazingly aware of people in the bayou who are taking advantage of the good folks, and they are willing to help. Good friends of mine.”

Misty and I were mid-discussion when Kamps called about Frank Barrington’s sudden demise. “I heard about the passing of the mob boss in New Orleans, Lukas. That happening must be shaking up the city.”

“The funeral is tomorrow, and Misty is here with me. There will be major changes coming for the city.”

“I’m following the news,” said Kamps. “Interesting.”

I chuckled. “Yeah, you could call it interesting.”

“Emile called and he has information for you if you can meet him sometime today.”

“Sure. Go ahead and set up a meeting with him. I want to know what he’s hearing and compare notes to what we know. As a matter of fact, I’d like to compare what all three of your people are hearing on the street. Lort and the girl, Joelle.”

“I’ll set up meetings with all three, and you’re right, Lukas. Hearing three different perspectives on what’s happening during the chaos will give you a much clearer and truer picture.”

“The day is free so far, so any time is fine. Set up the meets and text me the times and places.”

“I’m on it. I also heard that Suarez, the king of the New Orleans Bandidos is no longer with us.”

“You heard correctly. Suarez made an unplanned attempt on Gentil, and it didn’t turn out well for him and the men he brought with him. That will be another funeral coming up shortly, bro. Could be huge trouble on that day. The Banshees may see fit to retaliate and we could have a replay of what happened at Johnny Cormier’s wake.”

“I can see where a war might start between the two clubs,” said Kamps. “I’ll set up the meetings and let you know.”

“Thanks. I need all the information I can get before the funeral tomorrow.”

“Copy that.”

Right after talking to Kamps in Austin, I got a call from Georgia. “Hey, babe. Getting out today?”

“I hate to bother you, Lukas, but I have no ride home.”

Why are you lying to me, Georgia girl?

“What about all the suits in your husband’s organization, girl? Aren’t they supposed to keep you safe and take you where you need to go?”

“You are annoyed with me, Lukas.”

“A little. Some of the moves you’re making don’t make any sense to me, Georgia. I have no intention of getting killed because of some game you’re playing. Call yourself a cab.”

She started to sob, and I caved when I heard the tears. “I’m sorry, Georgia. I’m coming.” I shoved the phone in my pocket and said to Remi, “We have to pick Georgia up at the hospital and take her home.”

Misty smiled like she knew something I didn’t. “This trip will not go to waste, Lukas. Good will come of it tomorrow.”

“I hope you’re right, Misty. Sometimes I think Georgia is playing me like a fiddle and I’m too stupid to see it.”

“She is a beautiful woman used to getting her own way, Lukas.”

Barrington Residence. Audubon District.

Remi and I took Georgia home from the hospital and she invited us in for coffee. The place had a familiar feel to it—especially the pool area—but I didn’t tell her that.

Techs from the forensic lab got their backs up when we came in and they confronted Georgia with frowns on their faces.

“We’re not finished with your house, Mrs. Barrington. You’ll have to leave until we wrap things up.”

“I’m burying my husband tomorrow and this house has to be spotless for guests at his reception. I suggest y’all finish up and get out of here within the hour or I’ll have to call the chief of police and have y’all removed.”

She was right about the state of the house. It was a mess, and I didn’t see how she could hold Frank’s reception there in twenty-four hours’ time. But hey, I wasn’t in charge of housecleaning.

Georgia served us coffee in the sitting room next to the kitchen and she was moving around not too badly wearing a walking boot on her left leg.

When she finally sat down, she said, “I planned the funeral from my hospital bed like you suggested, Lukas. Did it all by phone. I arranged the caterer and the parking valet and all the rest of it. I have regular people that I use for parties and once I got started, it wasn’t too difficult to put it all together.”

“Where will the service be held?” asked Remi.

“Green Gardens,” said Georgia. “They picked Frank up from the morgue already and assured me they’d be ready for two o’clock tomorrow.”

The doorbell rang and Geogia frowned. “I’m not expecting anyone. I don’t think anyone knows I’m home from the hospital.”

The maid stuck her head in the door of the sitting room and announced that Gabriel Lamontagne was in the foyer.

“I’m not getting up, Arlette. Show him in here, dear.”

“Oui, madam.”

Arlette returned with a tall, well-dressed man and Georgia introduced him. “Lukas, Remi, I’d like you to meet Gabriel Lamontagne.”

I stood up to shake his hand and he gave me and Remi the once over—a look that said we shouldn’t be in Geogia’s house if we knew what was good for us.

From where I sat, I could see three more mob guys hovering outside the sitting room door.

“I’m so sorry about Frank, Georgia. The last time we spoke he was excited that the two of you were talking about reconciling.”

Georgia dabbed at a tear. “We were actually discussing it, Gabe, but Fate intervened, and it never came to pass.”

“Such a shame. The two of you had many happy years together.”

“Yes, we did.”

Georgia seemed to be telling the truth. She was sad about Frank’s passing.

Wearing his most sympathetic face, Gabe kept talking, “I dropped by to see if there was anything you needed doing before tomorrow.”

“I was just telling Lukas, I planned the funeral and made all of the arrangements from the hospital so there’s not much left to do. But thank you for the offer.”

Gabe smiled and I could tell he wanted Georgia Rome for himself, and this wasn’t a drop-in visit about the funeral. If we hadn’t been there, he would’ve put a move on her. I was sure of it.

Georgia didn’t seem to notice the way Gabe was looking at her. “The house has to be cleaned, of course. The police made a horrendous mess of things. They are clearly savages, the way they treat other people’s property.”

I nodded and tried not to laugh out loud.

Georgia gave the new king of the mob all of the funeral details and before he left, he insisted on leaving two of his thugs in suits to watch over her.

“I’m not a big fan of Gabe’s,” said Georgia in a whisper after he left. “He’s been waiting for a long time to take over Frank’s operation and I never believed he could handle the job.”

“I heard he was a powerful man,” I said.

“Only because he was second in command to Frank,” said Georgia. “I’ll be surprised if he runs things as smoothly as Frank did.”

“He left two of his men to watch over you, so I won’t have to worry so much while I’m gone.” I winked at her. “Remi and I have several meetings lined up, so I’m afraid we have to leave.”

“Why don’t you come for dinner tonight, Lukas?”

“Okay. I guess that’s possible. I’ll let you know later if I can make it.”

She smiled. “Of course. That will be plenty of time.”

On the way to the truck, Remi wanted to know what I thought of Gabe Lamontagne, and I told him. “He seemed okay on the surface, but all mob guys have that dirty streak, and they can’t be trusted.”

“Yeah, he was obviously slimy.”

Remi started the truck and my cell rang. “Gentil? Why are you calling me?”

“Come to the clubhouse. I need to talk to you,” he snapped at me in his Cajun twang.

“We don’t have anything to say to each other.”

“Come right now. It won’t take long.”

“What does he want?” Remi wore a scowl.

“He has something to say to me at the clubhouse.”

“Suicide mission.” Remi shook his head. “We don’t go there.”

“I figured he might call after we saved his fucking life. Let’s go see if wants to thank us and make us honorary members of the Banshees.”

“You are nuts, Lukas. When Misty offered this job to me, she never mentioned that.”

Remi made me laugh sometimes.

Banshees Clubhouse. Desire District.

Remi stood behind me as I knocked on the door of the Banshees’ clubhouse. A young kid pulled the door open and stared at me. “You Lukas?”

“Yep.”

The kid opened the door wider and motioned us inside. “Boss is waiting for y’all.”

A mixed aroma of beer, weed and man sweat attacked my senses and I planned to bring a spray can of air freshener on my next visit.

Diego Gentil sat at the head of the meeting table with his gavel in his hand. Unruly black hair hanging to his shoulders, a flinty look of anger in his dark eyes. He was shirtless in the Banshees’ home away from home.

Maybe he’s saving up for air conditioning.

A muscular guy, his upper body was covered in ink. Some of the artwork was high quality, and a few were primitive prison tattoos.

About a dozen chairs surrounded the oval table, but only two or three members were hanging around in the clubhouse sweatbox at this hour.

Gentil pointed the gavel at me and the message was short and to the point. “Stay away from Georgia, or I’ll kill you. I don’t know who you are or what the fuck you’re doing in my city, but your time has run out.”

“Okay. I got the message. Let’s go, Remi.”

“Remember what I said,” Gentil shouted after us.

“I won’t forget.”

“That was a waste of time,” said Remi. “Unless he wanted to tag your truck while we were inside.”

“That’s probably it. Not too subtle. We’ll check the truck when we get to the Spotted Dog.”

Spotted Dog Jazz Club. French Quarter.

When we parked behind the bar, Remi swept the truck with my gadget and removed the tag before we went inside.

“Yep. Gentil is a prick and he’s starting to annoy me, Remi.”

Remi chuckled as he opened the door.

Inside, we joined Emile LeBarre at his usual table. Early in the day for the club to be busy, so the service was quick. Remi and I had a beer, and Emile was already drinking a bottle of wine.

“I heard the Bandidos were planning to take Gentil out for killing their president,” said Emile.

“That goes without saying, the only question is when.” My way of letting him know I wasn’t paying for something I already knew. “Tell me about the Bandidos’ new number one.”

“Molina? I’ve heard he’s short-tempered and he’s a user. That combination results in him being unstable at times. Affects his decision-making ability, in my opinion.”

I grinned. “Should be interesting. What about this guy Gabriel Lamontagne taking over the mob from Barrington?”

“He’s cautious. A double-checking kind of guy who doesn’t like making mistakes. He won’t make any quick moves without doing his homework.”

“Then you see him keeping the status quo as long as it’s working?”

Emile nodded. “Pretty much.”

“What do you think would happen if Gentil made a run at him? Would he be able to overpower Lamontagne and take over his organization?”

“Gentil isn’t strong enough to do it,” said Emile, “and if he has an ounce of common sense, he won’t try.”

“What if he has no common sense?”

I don’t think Gentil is blessed with a lot of brains. Tough and violent, but not a quick thinker.

“He’ll destroy the club trying to do the impossible,” said LeBarre, “but that’s only my opinion.”

“Your opinion of what goes on in this city is what I’m paying you for.”

He grinned. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

LeBarre didn’t have anything new for us, so we paid him for what he gave us, finished our beer and moved on.

Dan Darker’s Roadhouse.

Joelle Guidry gave us a wave when we walked through the door of the bar. She was watching for us, sitting about halfway back in a booth with a coffee cup in front of her and an open bottle of bourbon next to her elbow.

“Hey.”

“Hey, yourself. How have you been since we last talked?”

She laughed. “I’m always okay. I can take care of myself.”

“You look good.”

Joelle was a looker, and she dressed well. The upscale way she presented herself probably got her into more places in the city where she could watch people and get information worth selling.

“Thanks. You do too.”

Remi rolled his eyes and waved the closest server over our way. He ordered beer for the two of us then glanced at Joelle to see if she wanted anything else.

“I’ll have another coffee.” She smiled at me. “Thanks.”

“Any rumors on what’s going to happen now that Barrington is dead?”

Joelle shrugged. “Lamontagne likes to parade around like a big man, but he hasn’t got the stomach for the rough stuff to hold the line. I don’t see him lasting long.”

“Okay. Do you think Gentil will try to eliminate him?”

“No. Gentil isn’t too bright, but he’s not that stupid either. He can’t take over the mob and he can’t run for politics and gain power like Lamontagne could. Gentil would be more likely to take out the Deputy Governor and take over the sex trade that dirty fucker has going.”

I nodded. “I can see that as a possibility.”

“What’s your interest, Lukas?” asked Joelle.

“Let’s say I’m in favor of a fairer shake for the citizens who live in this city. They could use a helping hand against the present city government.”

“Damn right they could. Most of the cops, DAs and judges are dirty and the politicians are getting away with almost anything and everything. It’s not right.”

“Any rumors on the funeral tomorrow?”

“I heard that the widow would put on a show like she’s grieving for her husband when they were hours away from a divorce. Everybody knows what kind of person Georgia Rome Barrington is.”

I felt myself tense up and go on the defensive. Shouldn’t have happened, but it did, and I had to work through it. “What kind of person is she?”

“It’s no secret she sleeps with Gentil for kicks and who knows how many other guys she has on speed dial. Barrington should’ve divorced her long before he decided to. She’s a sleaze.”

“Huh. I’ll be watching her tomorrow at the funeral.”

“So will I,” she said. “Can’t wait to see what she’s wearing. The media people will be there just for her.”

I paid Joelle for her thoughts, and Remi and I drove uptown to talk to Alonso Lort.

“Joelle don’t like Georgia too much, Lukas. She seemed to like bad-mouthing her.”

“I noticed that. Was she reflecting a general opinion or was it more personal than that?”

“Sounded personal to me, boss.” Remi nodded. “Joelle is pissed about something Georgia did to her.”

“Yeah, it did sound that way.”

Louisiana Beans. Uptown District.

Alonso Lort greeted us with a smiling face, and he was eager to expound on his theories about the political upheaval coming. Before he got started, I ordered coffee for all of us and deli sandwiches for me and Remi. We hadn’t eaten since breakfast.

“Go ahead, Alonso. I can listen while I’m eating my turkey sandwich.”

“Barrington was about to remove his support from the current mayor, Charles Blachard, and people are speculating that Blanchard might have taken Barrington out in order to protect himself.”

“That’s an interesting theory.”

Remi nodded, focusing on his sandwich.

“What else do you have?”

“Suarez is dead, and he was a main player in the city scheme of things. The Bandidos aren’t going to take that lying down. They will go after Gentil for the hit, and I don’t give Gentil more than a couple of days of breathing time.”

“Huh.” I finished my sandwich and took a gulp of my coffee. “What about Lamontagne? You have any thoughts on him taking over from Barrington and running the syndicate?”

Lort chuckled. “I have many thoughts on him. None of them good. He’s all show and he’ll be lucky to last a week. Barrington’s yes man. There are people inside Barrington’s organization who hate Lamontagne for past trespasses and I don’t give him much longer than Gentil. In fact, they might both bite it on the same day.” He laughed. “Be a lucky day for N’Orleans if it worked that way.”

I laughed. “It would be, and I can’t wait for that to happen.”

Alonso flipped through his notes.

“Mayor Blanchard?”

“On the pad. He’s nothing but a puppet doing the mob’s bidding. Barrington had Blanchard dancing around like Pinocchio.” Lort was enjoying this, and I was too.

“Are you coming to the funeral tomorrow?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

I couldn’t leave without asking him one final question. “What’s your opinion on Georgia Rome?”

“I was waiting for you to ask me that. She’s the key, Lukas. The key to the city. She can twist Gentil around her finger or turn to Lamontagne and make him do anything she wants. Gabe has been drooling over her for years and Gentil is equally obsessed.”

“She’s financially self-sufficient?”

Lort nodded. “Now that Barrington died before the divorce went through, she’s worth millions.”

I reached across the table and shook Lort’s hand. “Thanks for all of it.” I handed him a roll of bills.

Remi and I had to get home.

Nine Saint Gillian Street. Garden District.

With three opinions of what was going to happen in the next few days in New Orleans, Remi and I went back to Misty’s house with a lot of thinking to do.

We came in the back door and sat down at the long black worktable in the kitchen. Remi got us cold beer from the fridge, and we relaxed as we told Misty what people were saying about Gentil, about Lamontagne and about the mayor.

She listened and then told us what she wanted to happen the following day.

“Okay, we can take care of that for you, Misty.” I glanced at Remi, and he nodded.

“Georgia invited me for dinner, so I’m going over there,” I said.

Misty nodded. “Yes, Lukas. You need to do that.”

Remi gave me a look like he thought it was a bad idea, but Misty didn’t think so and her opinion was the one that counted.

I took Jack for a quick run. Brought him in and fed him, then went upstairs to shower and change my clothes. No designer stuff in my closet and never would be, so clean black jeans and a clean shirt would have to do.

Remi didn’t like it when I drove around the city alone, but I did it anyway. I spoke to the dogs in the back lane as I passed them, hopped in my truck and drove across the city to have dinner with Georgia Rome.

Barrington Residence. Audubon District.

The maid let me in and showed me into the sitting room where Georgia was drinking a glass of wine while she waited for me.

Looking gorgeous in a red dress with her silvery hair all piled up on top of her head, I was a goner as soon as I smelled her perfume and inhaled the essence of her.

Georgia is the key. Did I believe she was? Not sure.

I leaned down and kissed her before I sat next to her. “You look exceptionally beautiful tonight, babe.”

“Thank you, Lukas. You clean up well too.”

“Yeah, right. I don’t give a shit what I have on, babe, and you know that.”

“I am getting to know you a little better, Lukas. The more I know about you, the more I like you. You are an intriguing person.”

“I’ve never been called that before.”

The maid brought me a beer and before I had time to finish it, she came back and announced that dinner was ready. I helped Georgia get to her feet and walked her into the dining room.

My arm around her waist, I pulled her close and kissed her as we passed by the buffet. She turned and wrapped her arms around me, and losing all control of my senses, I took advantage of her at that moment.

If the maid had come in, she would’ve gotten a glimpse of my bare ass, but I didn’t give a flying fuck. I wanted Georgia Rome more than anything else and I didn’t care who was looking.

If Georgia cared, she didn’t communicate that to me.

We ate dinner after that, and I spent the night.

A couple of times during sex, I thought about what Joelle Guidry said about Georgia being a sleaze, but it didn’t seem to matter a lot to me.

Am I her new puppet?

The most disturbing part was the answer to my own question—I wanted to be.

Chapter Eight

Sunday, August 24th.

Barrington Residence. Audubon District.

I opened my eyes, and it wasn’t quite daylight, but it would be soon. “I have to go.”

“Please, don’t leave me, Lukas. This will be a hell day for me.”

“I can’t help you get through the day, babe. This is your show and you’re on your own.”

“Can’t you stay for ten more minutes?”

“Maybe nine.”

“Okay. I’ll take nine minutes.” She laughed and rolled on top of me.

Nine Saint Gillian Street. Garden District.

Remi came down the creaky front staircase looking for coffee and found me in the kitchen drinking a cup with Marisol.

“You out tempting fate all night long?” he snapped at me. Clearly not happy I was driving through the city alone. He gave me the look—the one that said Gentil was going to kill me for sleeping with his girlfriend.

Marisol poured her brother a coffee and Remi had no more to say. He’d said it out loud, and if I got myself killed, it wasn’t on him.

Misty joined us a few minutes later.

“Good morning, Misty,” said Marisol, who seemed to be the brightest of all of us. She put coffee in front of Misty and went back to chopping peppers, celery and onions for breakfast omelets.

“Are you coming to the funeral, Marisol?” I asked.

“I think I’ll come, Lukas. It’s going to be a big event with news people and TV coverage following along all day. Could be fun.”

“Yep, the press people will be there,” said Remi. “They wouldn’t want to miss out on burial of the N’Orleans mob boss.”

“Frank Barrington wasn’t a bad man,” said Misty, “but he was responsible for a lot of bad things that adversely impacted the city.”

I nodded, not knowing what the bad things were, but Misty knew and that was good enough for me.

The plan for the day was in place and if I could stay awake, I was ready to do my part.

Green Gardens Family Services. Audubon District.

The funeral chapel Georgia chose from her hospital bed wasn’t big enough for the number of people who turned out to mourn Frank Barrington.

Remi and I stood on the manicured lawn watching the crowds of people arrive for the service. Misty and Marisol had already gone inside to get seats.

I leaned on a tree and watched the funeral car pull up to the curb. A tall man in a black suit opened the rear door and gave Georgia a hand to get out.

She looked stunning.

Some women do look good in black.

I remembered that line from a Tom T. Hall song I liked, and it was true. Georgia had never looked more beautiful. From under the wide-brimmed hat, her long silvery hair cascaded down past her shoulders. She wore dark glasses to shield her beautiful eyes from the stares she was bound to receive.

I lot of people are here just to see her.

She’d discarded the walking boot in favor of a cane, and I had to hold back from running to help her as she struggled to maneuver the path to the entrance.

Gabe Lamontagne was the one by her side and it should have been me. He was there for show—window dressing—and if I hadn’t known that for a fact—I would’ve killed the fucker right there on the front steps of the funeral home.

The seats inside the chapel were full to overflowing when Remi and I finally went inside. Standing room only along the back wall, and that’s where we stayed.

Through the long boring service, I watched Georgia in the front row a couple of feet from the casket. She kept her head down most of the time and from the back of the chapel it was hard to tell if she was crying or not.

When it came time for the Mayor, the Governor and other dignitaries to share a few memories of Frank Barrington, I tried to sort out the truth from the lies, and it was next to impossible.

They made it sound like Frank Barrington was everybody’s best buddy and that all the people in New Orleans loved him while he was robbing them blind.

Misty didn’t love him. What did she know that the others didn’t? Maybe they knew the real Frank Barrington and were afraid to admit it.

The service ended with a final prayer and the six pallbearers got into position to move the casket. As soon as they were ready, they wheeled Frank down the center aisle and out the front door.

In an orderly fashion, the chapel emptied, and everyone regrouped on the front lawn for the walk to the cemetery.

St. Louis Cemetery. New Orleans.

The cemetery was only a few blocks away and keeping with tradition, family and friends walked behind the casket to the burial site.

Strolling along the sidewalk with Remi, Marisol and Misty, I kept an eye on the traffic cruising along beside us. On the lookout for any sign of the Banshees or the Bandidos coming to make a move. It was all pretty quiet.

An overcast day, but no rain yet. The clouds kept the temperature at a tolerable level for those of us not used to wearing suits.

I was used to Texas heat and the hot weather didn’t bother me as much as the humidity did.

The number of people gathered at the graveside was huge. Georgia was in the front row near the preacher, and I couldn’t even see her.

“How many people are here, Remi?”

“Three or four hundred, at least.”

I’d studied the picture of Mayor Blanchard that Misty supplied me with, and I scanned the crowd searching for him. Took a while, but I finally spotted him talking and shaking hands with people at the back of the throng.

Not too tall and chunky around the middle. Thinning hair. Round face and silver-rimmed glasses.

More people kept coming into the cemetery on foot and the crowd increased in size. There was no way I was going to have a chance alone with the mayor and I’d pretty much given up on the idea.

But then the Fates took over to help me.

I happened to see the mayor receive a phone call, and it must have been either private or important because he walked away from the crowd and stood under a row of trees near the fence.

Moving quickly, I came up on him from behind. While the crowd focused on the preacher at the graveside, one quick twist of the mayor’s neck and he was history.

I dragged Blanchard into a copse of bushes and made sure his limp body was completely out of sight. The caretaker of the cemetery would come across him in a day or so, when he made his rounds.

As I joined Marisol and Misty at the edge of the crowd of mourners, they covered for me. “Thank you for running back to the car for my phone, Lukas.”

I smiled at Misty. “No problem at all.”

The interment service ended, and people lined up to drop a rose onto Barrington’s coffin. Others started walking back to the funeral home to get their vehicles, and during that tidal wave of people, I saw Diego Gentil with his wife.

He was holding the hand of a pretty dark-haired girl—much younger than Georgia—and the girl was definitely pregnant.

I hope Georgia sees the wife and gives up on Gentil. I won’t mention it to her, but I’ll give her my opinion if she happens to bring it up.

Barrington Residence. Audubon District.

“We don’t have invitations to the reception, Misty,” said Remi. “How are we going to get in?”

“I’m sure they’ll let me in, Remi,” said Misty. “I’ll smile nicely, and we’ll all be welcome.”

“I hope you’re right.”

When we arrived, a valet in uniform was parking the vehicles and another was stationed at the front door with a clipboard in his hand.

If your name wasn’t on the list, you were turned away. It was surprising the number of people who knew it worked that way but tried anyway.

Misty was the spokesperson for our lowly foursome, and she flashed the clipboard guy a big smile. “I’m sure you’ll see my name on the list if you look hard enough, cher.”

“What is your name, ma’am?”

“Mystere LeJeune.”

A flicker of fear flashed in his eyes, and he said, “You can go in, Madam LeJeune.”

“Thank you, Armand.”

“You know my name, Madam?”

“I do.”

He dropped his pen and had to scramble to pick it up to check off the next person in line.

In the impressively decorated living area of the Barrington mansion, Gabe Lamontagne was holding court. A group of his flunkies clustered around him paying close attention to his words.

Listen up, boys. He won’t be around long.

The Governor of Louisiana was next to arrive and with him was the Deputy Governor, Yvan Chauvin.

He was the one I wanted to get a good look at. Chauvin was on my radar and once we started phase two of the cleanup, he wouldn’t be coming out alive.

I strolled over to the bar for a beer and seeing I was alone, Georgia crossed the room to join me. “I’m glad you’re here, Lukas. Can you stay awhile after the guests leave?”

“You’ll be busy for hours, Georgia. I can come back later.”

We weren’t finished talking when Gentil saw the two of us together and rushed over to spit out more venom at me. “Get away from Georgia and meet me outside.”

“I was offering the widow my condolences, Gentil. You’re here with your wife and I noticed that you’re soon to become a father. Congratulations.”

I smiled and stuck my hand out and he refused to take it. He glared at me, groping for words that would put me in my place, but I spoke first.

“Look after your wife, Gentil, or you’ll lose her too. Keep that in mind.”

“I only have one thing in mind and that is killing you.”

Georgia touched Gentil’s arm and spoke to him, but I didn’t stick around to hear their conversation. I strode out the patio doors and walked past the pool heading into the part of the yard thick with shrubbery.

Babin saw me pass the pool and he was on my heels with one more of the Banshees.

I figured I’d wait until Gentil’s temper brought him my way and then we’d see how tough he was. I sat down on an iron bench next to a bird feeder and watched the cardinals while I waited.

When Gentil caught up, Babin had taken a stance in front of me and was hollering at me in French.

I waited to see what they planned to do to me next.

“Kill him,” said Gentil.

“Really? You want to ruin the reception Georgia is hosting for her dead husband? You think that will get you points, you moron?”

Babin came at me with a blade, and I had no choice but to fight back. He was slower than me and not as strong. I shoved my blade up under his ribs and punched a hole in his heart.

He dropped on the bench.

Dead.

Gentil screamed bloody murder at the guy with him to kill me, and I couldn’t let that happen. One good kick in the nuts and that guy was out of my way for the ten seconds I needed to finish Gentil.

I took care of him the same way I’d done Babin.

Remi came running when he finally found me and together we tossed Babin, Gentil and the other Banshee over the fence onto the golf course that abutted the Barrington property.

“Time for us to go,” said Remi. “You’ve got blood on you. Run around the block and I’ll pick you up as soon as I get Misty and Marisol.”

“Copy that.”

To be continued…

Author Notes from Carolina Mac.

A new Novella series – Lukas Donovan Undercover, in episodic format, is dark and violent and punctuated with enough romance to make it palatable. The series reveals the lengths some dedicated cops go to in the protection of others. Giving up any expectation of a normal life, they risk their lives and expect nothing in return. I hope Lukas Donovan fans enjoy seeing the darker side of his life.

Carolina Mac is the author of over two hundred and twenty-five books in seventeen different series. The Regulators, Quantrall PI, The Blackmore Agency, The Night Vipers, The Creed, The Agency: Young Guns, Paradise Park, Broken Spur, The Moonbeam Chronicles, Taming the Stallion, Rebel Ranch, and Interstate Mayhem.

Also, seven Novella series: Heaven’s Gate, Midlife Magic, Big Easy Mafia, The Sabbats, Boots & Saddles Updates, Mill Antiques and Lukas Donovan Undercover.  

She’s the co-author with her daughter JL Madore/Auburn Tempest of Misty’s Magick and Mayhem series. Translated into German. And the new Dark Irish Mafia Romance series.

She’s the co-author with her son David K. MacDowell/D.K. Mac of the True Colors political thriller series. Fourteen books in all.

She is the co-author with her daughter Lisa Mac of the Black Rain psychological series. A duet. Silent Rain – book one, and Silent Reckoning – book two.

Also by Carolina Mac

Regulator Biker Series (12 Book Series)

Q-File P.I. Series (15 Book Series)

The Blackmore Agency Series (30 Book Series)

Night Viper Series (15 Book Series)

The Creed (16 Book Series)

The Agency: Young Guns (15 Book Series)

Taming the Stallion (12 Book Series)

Rebel Ranch (3 Book Series)

True Colors (14 Book Series)

The Moonbeam Chronicles (26 Book Series)

Paradise Park Series (13 Book Series)

Misty’s Magick & Mayhem Series (11 Book Series)

Mystere LeJeune: The Sabbats (4 Book Series)

Heaven’s Gate Romance Novella Series (3 Book Series)

Broken Spur Series (4 Book Series)

Midlife Magic Series (6 Book Series)

Big Easy Mafia Series (3 Book Series)

Boots & Saddles Updates (6 Book Series)

Mill Antiques (5 Book Series)

Lukas Donovan Undercover (6 Book Series)

Interstate Mayhem (2 Book Series)