Rafael (Bayou Brotherhood Protectors #5)

Prologue

PROLOGUE

“Go! Go! Go! Lucky 7! You’re the one. I just need you to make all my dreams come true!”

His heart pounded as fast as the horses’ hooves on the track below. His twenty-dollar bet could be the one to beat all the bets that hadn’t paid out.

If Lucky 7 won this race, he’d be the fifth winner he’d bet to win. The payout would be two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Enough to pay off the loan sharks.

“Come on, Lucky 7! You can do it!”

The horses rounded the final bend and raced for the finish line.

Lucky 7, trailing by two at the corner, seemed to catch his second wind. He sailed past the chestnut, Don’t Mind Me, and gained on the gray, Winchester’s Metal, the favorite. At the very last second, Lucky 7 made one last push, sending his nose past the finish line a tenth of a second before the gray.

“I won! I won!” Suddenly, the ticket in his hand felt like something to be guarded, protected and clutched tightly until he made it all the way through the crowd and back to the teller to cash it in.

It was worth so much money that he carried it close to his chest, afraid the wind might blow it away or someone might come along and rip it out of his hand.

By the time he reached the teller window and handed in his winning ticket, his hands were damp with sweat, and he was one nerve short of a full-on panic attack.

He held his breath as the teller checked the ticket, then checked it again. She called for her supervisor and had him check it a third time.

The supervisor came out from behind the window. “Sir, could you come to the main cashier with me?”

“Sure, as long as it gets me my money,” he said and followed the man to the track’s main cashier.

After a couple more people checked his ticket, the manager of the cashiers approached him, stuck out his hand and said, “Congratulations, sir, you just won two-hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”

An hour and a half later, he walked out of the racetrack with a bag full of money, nervously glancing over his shoulder, fully expecting to be mugged.

He made it to his car without incident and breathed a sigh of relief.

Now, where should he go?

Hit the loan sharks to pay back some of the money he owed?

If he paid off all his gambling loans, he wouldn’t have anything left of his winnings.

He’d like to buy a new car.

With two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, he could start over someplace new. Someplace where no one knew him and the loan sharks couldn’t find him.

The thought of keeping all the money for himself and starting over with a clean slate spread through him like warm whiskey. It warmed his insides and made him feel happy all over.

As he drove out of the parking lot, his cell phone rang. He glanced down at the caller ID and saw Cissy’s name come up on the screen.

Happiness filling him to full, he answered the call. “Hey, beautiful. Feel like going out for a steak dinner tonight?”

“I don’t know about that. Just heard from a little birdie you cashed in a big ticket at the horse track.”

He frowned. “Word gets out fast.”

“You know the Boss has eyes and ears everywhere there’s gambling. He’s gonna want his share for the loans you took out. If you’re not planning on givin’ it to him, you might wanna watch your back. I’d hate to see you fitted with cement overshoes and dropped in the bayou somewhere. Just sayin’—and you didn’t hear it from me. See ya around.”

His cell phone rang again. The caller ID was Jimmy Bangs, one of the many loan sharks he was sideways with. If he paid one, he’d have to pay all of them. They’d each want their share first and wouldn’t be happy if he ran out of money before they got theirs.

His happiness sank into the pit of his belly. The idea of starting over seemed more like his only hope for survival now.

He checked in the rearview mirror. A minute later, he checked again. Was that black SUV following him?

At the next exit, he turned off the interstate and dove into a residential neighborhood where he wove in and out of the streets.

When he thought he’d lost the SUV, he took one of the smaller highways out of New Orleans, heading west, the bag of money on his seat feeling like a massive target for thieves and the New Orleans Mafia. He’d heard of guys who’d been dumped in the bayou for not paying off their loans. He'd been dodging collectors, trying to win back some of the money he’d lost, only to lose more and more and getting deeper into debt.

He’d passed the small town of Bayou Miste and pushed on when another black SUV fell in behind him. Either way, if he stopped for food or gas or was run off the road, someone could easily knock him off and take the money.

He needed to put the money somewhere safe, where no one would think to find it. He could lay low until things quieted down, and he figured out where he could go to start his new life.

With the SUV on his tail, stashing the cash became his number one priority.

He passed the turn-off for Bayou Mambaloa and looked for a place to pull off the road. As he approached a series of curves in the road, he sped up instead of slowing down, taking the curves too fast for an SUV. A narrow gravel road turned off to the left with overhanging trees and overgrown vegetation along the sides.

He slammed on the brakes and drove onto the narrow, rutted road, going back far enough no one would see him from the road. He shut off his engine, rolled down the windows and listened for the roar of an SUV engine passing on the highway. When he was sure it had gone, he started his engine, turned around and headed back to Bayou Mambaloa.

After parking his car in an alley behind the businesses on Main Street, he looped the bag over his shoulder and went in search of a place wherehe could hide the money. An antique store caught his attention. They’d have furniture, maybe an old cabinet with a price so high it wouldn’t sell in the next week or so until he could get back to collect his winnings.

As soon as he stepped through the door, he saw exactly the right place to stash the money. He waited until the man who ran the place was distracted. Then he stuffed the bag into a drawer. The problem wasthatanyone could open the cabinet, and they’d find the cash. He had to seal it.

Taking a chance, he left the bag of cash in the drawer, ran down to the hardware store and bought a tube of clear adhesive. He slipped it up his sleeve and walked back to the antique store. The owner was busy showing a customer every piece of hobnail glass in the store.

After checking that the bag was still there, he caulked the drawer edges, sealing it shut.

Cash on ice, he left the store and drove out of town, vowing to be back within a week. The thought of all that lovely cash made him smile until he remembered...he didn’t have any of it in his pocket.

Well, damn. He couldn’t go back to that town so soon. He’d just have to make do.