CHAPTER 5
The second Bishop hung up with 8-Bit, he followed the sound of his Petite’s cock licking laugh to the kitchen where festivities-without-end were being formed. They probably had the next twenty years of events scheduled and it would be the first time Bishop wasn’t wanting to hide. But now he needed a reason why he wanted a private meeting with just the Twelve. He didn’t want his petite learning about these abduction details until he knew all of them.
He entered the melee, eying his dysfunctional family, avoiding that permanent love-struck look on Savvy’s face when Lucas was near—which was always. Wasn’t much better with Luseah and the Brandon brat the Arbiters had blessed him with in the name of punishing Gordon for his crimes. Clearly the punishment was all his. The single regret he didn’t have was seeing that light in his daughter’s eyes when she looked at the little punk. So far, he hadn’t found anything worth killing him over and he looked. Frequently. Even had Lucas swear he’d watch for a single sign that would need handling. Annoying how he never had anything to report when asked. And he asked often.
“Change of plans, ladies,” he announced making his way to his wife’s glowing face and smiling mouth.
“Now what?” Mah-Mah cried.
“The men want to chat about women then we’ll get you two in. Just give us fifteen minutes. I mentioned to 8-Bit about your idea for classes,” he distracted, kissing the pout from his Petite’s mouth.
“Uh-oh,” she said around his lips. “How’d he take it?”
He gave a sigh. “Like we’re attempting a heist on his manhood but really, I think he fears other valid things.”
“Like what?”
“I can’t say, but celibacy was a safety harness to him. And with that gone, I think he’s worried and would never admit it to me. But I have faith in him. He’ll be fine.” He turned her away from all the eyes so he could kiss her properly.
“You got a bedroom right up there, go use it!”
“Mah-Mah, watch over my beautiful wife for fifteen more minutes, oui?”
She gave a huge cackle. “She watches over me! I’m ornery in my old age.” Lazure snuck up and wrapped her in a bear hug, making her squeal.
“You have a room too,” Bishop called when the lust noises started, getting Beth’s smack on his shoulder.
“I miss you,” she whispered. “And later, I have a surprise I think you’ll really like.”
Bishop pulled back at the tease, his brain flying through all those new sexual positions. They’d agreed to incorporate them into their bedroom activities for the sake of exploring and learning one another’s needs and wants. “Tell me now.”
“Noooo,” she lamented, pure sexual mischief in her face.
He took her hand and led her to the bathroom at the other end of the house, locking them inside. Turning, he found her with her dress up, facing the sink.
“Fuck,” he blasted. No fucking panties.
Lust hit him like a torpedo, blind and furious. He fought with his belt, her moans and fucking gasps already there before he put a hand on her. With a growl, he snatched a fistful of hair and jerked her mouth to his, biting and sucking as he found the very bottom of her pussy in one thrust.
Her cry blasted in his mouth, and he pumped like an animal, forcing more of those sounds from her, faster, harder, higher and fucking hotter. “That’s what you fucking wanted.” He pulled her head back farther, bringing his lust war to her neck, marking her skin then shoulder as his orgasm rode up his spine like a burning comet. He buried his fingers between her pussy lips and wiggled them over her clit.
“Fuck yes,” he shuddered as her body locked up hard in orgasm, releasing his own. He knew it was too much and yet would never be enough as he cut loose all over her. He ended at her mouth, claiming every drop of that wicked ecstasy pouring from her.
For a full minute, they both stood there, muscles trembling and breaths blasting as he held her tightly to his body, needing to absorb every part of her. He forbid the words of remorse from leaving his lying tongue. He wasn’t sorry for a damn bit of it, and it was time he owned it. Instead, he worshipped her mouth in silence, his groans a forbidden script of immense satisfaction, awe, and unspeakable joy. “I love my sweet fucking Angel,” he whispered. “You will never know how much.”
She gave a soft smile, reaching around and stroking his head as his cock remained buried to the hilt. “Don’t start a bat-tie now,” she whispered back. “I’ll beat you every time.”
He hugged her tighter, covering the side of her face with kisses. “More like slaughter.”
“You better hurry, they’re waiting.”
He eased himself out of her with a groan. “And they will surely wait.”
****
“Everybody’s here?” Bishop asked. “Anybody missing?”
“Everybody’s here,” 8-Bit said.
“All female ears?”
“Off,” his Tech Hatch leader assured.
“Good. 8-Bit, start by giving us the data you’ve learned.”
Bishop listened as he recounted the intel he’d told him.
“Anybody have more to add?”
“I’ve seen her,” Ruckus said.
“Seen who?” Bishop regarded him on the phone, seeing small fingers laced in his large ones. Gracie was with him. Good.
“The white wall. The woman protecting. I’ve been seeing it in dreams. I see there’s something hiding behind it but can never tell what. It’s her,” he said, sure of it.
“You think she’d know where we can find Raphael?” Seer asked on another screen.
“I think she’s with him. Protecting him.”
“Can we find her?” Bishop asked.
“We may be able to if with Maggie’s help,” Ruckus said. “And Beth.”
“What kind of help?” Spook demanded while wondering what he wanted to do with his wife.
“Not sure,” Ruckus said.
“We need a Prayer Circle,” Seer said. “With Ma Cherie. She’s a direct link to Raphael and Lazarus. Where I’m blind, she’ll see, but I need Maggie to see too and show me.”
Bishop nodded. “See to that right away, Oui?”
“Oui,” they all agreed.
“Your wife’s gifts will eventually be needed,” Ruckus said, or warned.
“And when it’s absolutely necessary,” Bishop said, “we’ll use them. Until then, she’s off limits. Speaking of. Now that it’s likely the same people who kidnapped Maggie also kidnapped Beth, do you think it has anything to do with their gifts?”
“Without a doubt,” Ruckus said. “Which brings me to inform you. This Ball you’re having to entice them to the swamp is the wrong bait. They aren’t interested in virgins, they’re interested in particular people, and they all happen to be here. My son, myself, and now Maggie and Beth. If we get Raphael and this woman, we’d tip the power scales and shift this war into the direction we want it.”
“How?” Bishop wondered.
“We would be more powerful than those three covens. Which would require them to join forces. And if they do that, then we get what we want, them coming at us in a united front.”
A united hell. “How is that good?”
“A unified front is easier to kill,” he said, simply.
Bishop nodded, considering. “What else do you need for this?”
“I need a Spirit Hatch,” Seer said. “A dedicated space where I can build an army of spiritual soldiers. Any one of the swamp stops on the outskirts preferably. The closer to the walls we can get, the more we can see and feel that which lurks beyond it.”
“Whatever you need is yours, just ask,” Bishop said. “And see to it immediately.”
“Spook, I’ll need you to meet us at my place with Maggie for that prayer circle,” Seer said.
“I’ll call you when we’re done,” Spook said.
“So, if this Ball is useless for luring the demons, then why have it?” Patches wondered.
“It’s not useless,” Ruckus said. “They’ll send scouts. But not for that.”
Bishop asked, “What do you suggest we let them see?”
“What they want to see. Their prizes, wide open and unsuspecting.”
“So, they’ll be bait,” Hurricane said.
“Oui,” Bishop said, not liking it but knowing it was the best plan going since they wanted to take those particular devils out. If not every one of them, then surely the head of all the snakes.
“So, we need to collect the boy and this woman before that Ball?” Shank muttered.
“It would surely help,” Seer said.
“Well, I hate to add shit to the shite, but a hurricane cropped up in the gulf and is barreling our way.”
“Mon-fucking Dieu,” Bishop swore with a roll of his eyes as the rest of them muttered similar sentiments.
“ETA?” 8-Bit asked.
“Three days. Tuesday night, supposedly. Moving straight for our ass at 10 mph packing winds of 160. Hurricane Ni-ko-las,” he said, bad-assing the name.
“Well, that cancels the Ball,” Bullets said like it freed him from having to sabotage it.
“Puuuhhhhh,” Traps growled. “Would like to see some part of something get done. We plan this, we plan that? Then nuuuut-ting!”
“Don’t get your ropes all up in a knot,” Bacon said.
“How long’s it off for?” Shank asked, another relieved warrior.
Bishop remembered, “We were cancelling anyway due to Nitro needing to recover. We don’t want hell on our turf without every able hand to meet it. Not to mention I want to buy a few days to learn how we can use our amazing new bat army.”
This got a round of eager interest. “Wouldn’t mind having a demon army to command,” Spar put in. “That was the most remarkable insanity I’ve ever seen.”
The room went on in heated exchanges of bats, battles and bloodshed before Bishop called them back to the meeting with a loud, “The Ball, gentleman. If the hurricane is scheduled to get here Tuesday, having it the following weekend means a huge mess to clean up fas-fas.”
“I say let us pick the women we want to interrogate and call that a ball,” Shank suggested, getting a round of chuckles.
“I don’t shop,” Bullets informed. “I know what I want and when I see it, I get it.”
“But these ladies are expecting a Ball, bruh,” Bacon reminded lightly, like they’d be safer fighting demons than a pissed off hoard of females.
“I say we do like Bullets said, pick one instead of five,” Spar suggested. “If you can’t figure out what you want in a woman, then you’ll have to accept your defeat and deal with your stupidity.”
“We’re moving into Fate Dice territory,” Patches realized, sounding ready for anything. “I’m down for rolling.”
“Rolling for what?” Bullets wondered.
“I say we pick one of the choices, and say-too, fin-ee,” Shank said.
“Ya’ll are either in a hurry for a wife or just in a h urry,” Bishop said before reminding, “There’s no take backs on this.”
“Well, we have mandatory classes for where to put our dick,” 8-Bit said. “We can add classes for how to survive our choices.”
“Say what?” Bullets shot.
“Which part?” 8-Bit returned.
“What mandatory classes.”
“I was about to get to that,” Bishop said, getting a round of masculine lament.
“I don’t need an anatomy class,” Patches reminded.
“It’s more than that,” Bishop said. “The Belle Eveque knows what she’s doing, we need to trust her in this one. She says you’ll all want to kiss her later, but of course you won’t if you like having lips on your face.”
“Classes,” Traps muttered with hefty disgust.
“What kind of classes?” Bullets sounded ready to draw his weapon.
“We gonna need backpacks and crayons for this?” Patches grinned in wonder.
“Maybe they show their work on slates,” Lesion said. “Little naughty stick figures in chalk.”
At hearing he thought he was exempt, Bishop informed, “All of us are taking classes. Including those already with wives. Me included,” he added over the sudden mix of ass burns.
“Bring on the classes,” Hurricane said. “My speed is stuck on demolish everything. My sister said I better get a hold of a kill switch before I kill any hopes of keeping a woman.” He gave one of his full throttle laughs. “I just need a woman who can take an earth mover in bed.”
Traps filled the room with booming guffaws. “Earth mover. Well, my woman will need to be ready for fifty ways of hog-tied. She’ll—”
“So, the ball is still go, only we do one female?” Shank cut in, agitated. “Are we rolling the Fate Dice for that one female?”
“That’s up to you. Each of you,” Bishop added. “No group dice rolls for this one.”
“I have mine picked,” 8-Bit said.
“So do I,” Bullets informed.
“I’m tempted to roll the Dice,” Patches said.
“Same,” came Bacon.
“What about Halloween this year?” Bullets wondered. “The kids need that.”
“Yeah,” they all concurred with Bullets adding, “I don’t like these devils fucking with what’s theirs.”
“We’ll do it. At the right time. They don’t care about exact dates, and they’ll enjoy it all the same.”
“They’ll have no choice,” Spook said, sounding pissed.
“Well, I’ll be damn,” Bishop said, amazed. “I knew yall fuckin’ liked it,” he chuckled.
“I never said I didn’t like it,” Patches defended.
“Mon Dieu, the mumbling and grumblings are recorded in the swamp’s annals. So, what changed your mind? It was the story idea?”
“Hands down the funnest shit I’ve ever done,” Hurricane chuckled. “I’ll never forget the looks on their faces.”
“I’ve been coming up with ideas all year for a story,” Bacon admitted, excited.
“Don’t expect to take first place again this year,” Spar warned.
“What if we collaborate this time?” Hurricane said. “Tie the stories together. Twelve stories. All building up with doom and damnation.”
“With the final one the epic climax,” Shank said. “I like it.”
“We can use Slim, Roxy, and Snap again,” Bullets said, his voice low and eager.
“The gator boats are a definite must,” Patches agreed.
“And I can make that candy bacon.”
Incoming round of disgust.
Bacon laughed real big. “Don’t knock it till you try it!”
“What I wanna know,” Patches said, curious, “is who 8-Bit and Bullets picked.”
“I think they might be shy about it,” Hurricane said in a coo, getting his hand whacked away by Bullets.
“Nothing to hide,” 8-Bit said. “Catherine Boone is my pick. She’s a member of Bullets’ Hatch.”
“Holy fuck,” Patches muttered.
“You trying to start shit?” Shank wondered. “You know who that is.”
“What do you mean?” 8-Bit asked while Bishop wondered what they were talking about too.
“Bruh,” Bacon muttered like he was being dense. “That’s the sister of the dude who lost his pregnant wife in that Hurricane.”
It got quiet before 8-Bit muttered, “I didn’t realize that.”
“You should call that one off,” Traps firmly suggested. “Pick somebody else.”
“Wait,” Bishop cut in. “He can’t call it off, she’s signed up and he’s picked her.”
“He can unpick her,” Bacon warned with a sugarcoat.
“Nah, it’s good,” Patches muttered.
“She’s in your Hatch, Bullets,” 8-Bit said. “What do you know about her brother?”
“I know that Boone goes to church faithfully every Sunday and when I shake his hand, he smiles and nods while silently begging for one of my bullets between his eyes. That’s what’ I know about him.”
“Christ,” Patches mumbled.
“You got nothin’ to do with him being in that chair,” Shank said, like it’d been said fifty times. Fuck, it probably had been.
Patches leaned back, gazing at the table with a shake of his head. “Finished him off, though. Bad enough he was in that chair. He was happy, I remember that much. I saw both of them every month when I made my rounds. There was a light in his eyes. I know it’s not my fault, but I can still hate it with every fucking fiber of my fucking being, right?”
Patches was known for holding his cool in the hairiest situations and it wasn’t hearing him raise his voice that silenced them, it was hearing the buried pain. Bishop surely understood. Patches was escorting the pregnant wife and grandparents to land when a wind gust blew the boat right over. He’d only managed to rescue the mother and by some miracle got her to the hospital where they saved the baby but lost the mother. Patches had sold everything to build an actual hospital with equipment needed for emergencies. In her case, a breached delivery that required surgery. The entire Hoard helped with it.
Patches slid his hands over his face with a sigh. “Maybe you’ll be able to do some good,” he said to the quiet room. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help with that.”
“I will, brother,” 8-Bit said, his regret coming through.
“Same,” Bullets offered. “Whatever you need, consider it done. Boy’s as close to a son as I’ve ever had, and I wish every day I could’ve taken that bullet for him. Or find the devil that did that and unload fifteen rounds of my Sig right in his wicked fuckin’ mouth till his insides are spilling out the holes I blow in his ass.”
You could always count on Bullets to get ballistics or bolt-action into a conversation, but hearing his words ground together with that kind of rage put them all in a silent reverence for his exact kind of vengeance.
“I can taste it brothers,” Bishop finally said, eyeing those at the table with him. “Their judgment is coming. And God has given us the executor’s blade.”
“I want them brought to the Weigh Station,” Bullets grit, his mouth still in that rage-slant. “They need to have a proper fuckin’ trial.”
They all murmured in eager agreement. In the swamp, proper trial meant carefully dissecting crimes and criminals. There was nothing sloppy, nothing quick about it. Just holy retribution carried out with an unholy amount of lust and rage.
Hurricane raised his hand and Bishop nodded at him.
“Not to rape a dead horse, but what’s the final word on the swamp lady party? I vote to blame the hurricane. They can bat-tie with mother nature if they don’t like it.”
“Agree,” Bishop said. “After that mess, we’ll let them know we’ll regroup. Keep their panties fresh for you bulldogs.”
“Not too fresh,” Traps said, his beard spreading with his hidden smile. “Nothing wrong with well-used panties.”
“You naaaasty fucker,” Bacon said, rolling his head at him, getting a burst of guffaws from the lewd brother.
“I have a request.”
“Nitro, that you?” Bishop asked.
“Yeah. The Drysdale. He’s committed crimes worthy of our Weigh Station.”
“Oui. But if we let him be a little bit, he’ll be worthy of a lot more.”
“I intend to put closed eyes on all his land,” 8-Bit assured.
“Good. The more guilt we can get on him, the better for me. But for what he’s committed so far, I’m requesting a Blastectomy.”
Everybody made painful noises. If your hand causes you to sin, cut it off. In this case, if your dick causes you to sin, get it blown off with small explosives and sport a colonoscopy bag the rest of your life. “If it’s mine to give you, it’s surely yours,” Bishop said, not sure if that was his jurisdiction or the Grand Oratrice.
“Arms’ deal is still intact?” Bullets wondered.
“It is.” Bishop looked at his phone. “Our Belle Eveque is calling in. We ready for the ladies? Leave any talk about her and her sister off. I’ll handle it with her. Thirty more minutes. Yall good to continue?”
“Let’s get it done,” Patches said. “I have a lot more to prepare for now that we have a hurricane on our ass.”
The rest agreed and Bishop texted his wife, telling them to come. “Seer, 8-Bit was hoping to borrow you to pay Cat Boone’s brother a visit. Maybe you two can go see what you can see, then I’ll call you about that other business, oui?”
“Oui,” he said.
“Make sure all your alarm apps are on.” He spied a text from Bart. Permission for your blood to attend the meeting.
What the hell kind of question was that? Are you a Bishop?
He sent a teethy smiley face and Bishop set his phone down, catching Traps’, “She’ll learn a rope burn is how I French kiss her tender loins.”
He interrupted chuckles and worried headshakes with, “Before we’re done, I need a full account of where each Hatch is in terms of mobilizing for war.”
The door opened and Bishop turned, his blood heating at the sight of his beautiful wife entering, followed by his entire family behind her, all dressed in the traditional Bishop attire. Interesting. He made his way to his wife and that sexy smile she wore, reminding him of her surprise.
He got her seated and made his way to his brothers, spotting the manilla folder Bart held before giving them all a tight hug. He wanted them to know that the blood they shared was as binding as the swamp-born bonds he had with The Twelve.
Back at the table, he took his wife’s hand in his lap, happy to turn things over to Mah-Mah.
“Good evenin’ boys,” she greeted with a smile, earning an out-of-tune welcome chorus from the remaining twelve, their grins and nods reminding Bishop of excited schoolboys with their favorite pretty teacher. “As we can see, we’ve got all my boys here tonight.” She narrowed her gaze at her phone, smile vanishing. “Where’s my Samuel and 8-Bit?”
“They had to go,” Bishop said. “I’m taking notes for them.” He winked at her and chuckled at the way she flustered. No matter how old she was, she’d be a young, bashful girl at heart. He loved that about her.
“Now it ain’t a secret how much family means to me,” she said, passing her gaze around. “The Twelve are just as much my sons as any, but I don’t rest good when there’s friction in the bonds. Specially with a war on our heads. It’s time to let by-gones be by-gones. We can’t have muck in the cracks with the good Lord at our backs,” she admonished. “It ain’t no secret these hoodlums never wanted a part of The Twelve but, things are changing and, well, I think I may have talked them into a partnership of sorts.”
MonDieu, thiswoman.
“If it’s all the same,” Bart interjected kindly, “I’d like to present the offer?”
She set her phone down with a happy smile and nod. “That would be much preferred.”
Bart jumped right in with, “Well, I wanna open a PI Hatch.” He slid his folder across the table toward Bishop. “The particulars are all in there. Nothing complex. I want a small team that handles the non-technical side of intel. Old-fashioned boots in the mud kind of runners and doers.” Bishop opened the folder, flipping through the small stack of pages, his smile tugging.
“I broke down the operation into sections as you can see.”
“I can,” he said maybe more impressed with how happy it made him than anything. “I like this. A lot.” He looked at him. “Whatever you need, Mon frère de sang, I will provide it.”
“We,” Bart said, nodding at the papers. “Jek, August and Zep are part of my team.”
Histeam. He regarded his other three brothers.
“We’re his underlings,” Jek said with a wink and threatening grin.
He eyed Zep, getting a nod and solemn, “At your swampy service.”
Mah-Mah snickered. “Swampy service.” She let out a happy sigh. “I think this is the best day of my life.”
Bishop eyed August digging at the collar of his dress shirt. “Mon friere, the Bishop attire suits you, oui?”
His scowl brought Bishop’s laugh. “Like silk suits a gator,” he grumbled.
When had his voice gotten so deep? Fuck, he missed his brothers. “Whatever all of you need, I’m happy to help. As is the rest of the Twelve?”
Bishop measured the round of agreeable responses, happy to hear they were genuine. He suddenly wished Samuel was there to witness it. He’d often lamented the fissure between the Twelve and his Blood. “That body and spirit must become one.”
“So, what do you have for us?” he asked Bart.
His brother turned to August who opened his coat pocket and pulled out a notepad, plopping it on the table. “We got vital intel from the Booyies regarding the Cartel.” He eyed Bishop, his baby blues stern and serious. “Now, these fuckers got people in odd places. Wildlife and Fisheries inspections, postal plants, even the national fucking parks. You got firearms with the fish, and methamphetamines with the mail.”
“How the hell are they using national parks?” Bishop wondered.
“Moving illegal arms,” August said. “But ever since they had a bust, they’ve been watching.”
“Hence their need for a new route that can’t be watched,” Hurricane muttered.
“What else?” Bishop asked, a little stunned with all the intel they were dumping.
“Lots more,” Bart said, sounding and looking disturbed. “The 5 Runes even have people in morgues.”
“Wait till you hear this shit,” Zep said.
“Morgues,” Patches said, guarded.
“Yes, morgues,” Bart went on. “They supply them with dead bodies for a fucked up underground theater where victims are forced to put on sexual puppet shows for their elite.”
“All videoed and sold on the black market for outrageous sums of money,” Jek added.
“Then,” Bart said, “the living get dead by sacrifice and the already dead get shipped to another sick venture where the bodies are turned into jewelry—also a high-tag black market item. But hold on to your marbles. They’re then shipped around the country through the United States Postal Service right alongside letters to gramma.”
“These sick fucks are embedded everywhere,” Jek said. He looked at Zep. “Tell ‘em what you found on the Noctambule and Co.”
Unlike August, Zep didn’t need paper and pencil. Being a lazy shit had eventually evolved into impressive memorization skills. “Well, it’s an in-bred soap opera of evil. The Cartel’s most feared enforcer is the little brother of the Holy Order’s high priestess. Then, the 5 Runes and The Diablos De La Guerra have a fun little underground fight ring. The coven uses it for blood sacrifices, the Cartel uses it for entertainment and recruitment. It’s a win-win, or lose-lose, depending on the position you’re playing.” He looked at Jek. “You wanna tell him about the tattoo shit?”
“Oh yeah,” Jek muttered in his usual bored way. “Tattoo parlor Pins and Needles is part of the Noctambule. All the members of the Diablos De La Guerra go there to get a special patch. He uses tracking ink which apparently is a thing. This gives them inside eyes on every member. One goes the wrong way, they invoke their supernatural ink,” he finger quoted the air, “and they miraculously end up dealt with and dead.”
Wow. “Do the De La Guerra even know?” Bishop asked.
“From the amount of respect and unholy honor they have for Noctambule, I’d say no.”
“Ohhhh boy, that’s priceless,” Bacon chuckled. “They got a Divine Doodle Dynasty. I’m jealous.”
Traps got a kick out of that, and Bishop already shook his head at feeling the jokes coming. “Order of the Majestic Markings,” he boomed out, fist banging the table.
“Trace Me If You Can Tribe,” Spook didn’t help.
“Slipknot Sorcerers of Squiggles!” Traps barely managed, doubling them all over.
Nowthey were laughing.
Bishop decided to let it rip, feeling like the comical relief was probably needed. They were down to wiping tears when Mah-Mah kissed Lazure and hugged him tight, then Beth copied her.
“Here we go,” Hurricane grumbled. “Straight on to marriage classes only not all of us have wives yet!” he complained.
“Come here, I’ll kiss you,” Traps said.
“Bruh, get your ropey fuckin’ hands away from me.”
“I got a knot for any and every kink, my young lad.”
The Basilique door banged open. “DAD!”
Bishop flew up from his chair, turning to see Lucas running in, holding out his phone.
He hurried to meet him, taking it from him.
“They texted that,” he said winded. “I don’t know who it is or how they got my number.”
Did you get the mole yet?
Bishop spun, finding everybody already behind him. “Where’s Savvy and Luseah?”
“Still at the main house,” Lucas said. “We were all there, and Brandon. We’ve been sticking together like you said. I haven’t even left the swamps. None of us have.”
He eyed his blood brothers. “We need to find who the fuck this is. First priority for your new PI Hatch.”
“You fuckin’ got it,” Bart said, looking at Zep. “You start with Gordon and gang. Jek, you contact Fisher, the one who has access to cell phone logs in Louisiana. August, you’re with me.” He looked at Bishop. “I’d like to take Lucas’s phone and have Seer, Ruckus and Maggie see what the hell they can see.”
“Oui. Do it quickly.” He gave him the phone and regarded the rest of his men. “Gather the best of your Hatches. Tomorrow, we hunt. And we don’t stop till they’re gator shit and mud.”