CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“I want to know everything about that fucking bike shop,” said Jackson, throwing his jacket into the chair.
“Yes, sir.”
“Did you catch their names?”
“No. They didn’t have tags, and we didn’t ask them their names. I’ll try to find out who owns it.”
“That bitch drove her car that way. It disappeared from our tracking just a mile before that shop, and there’s not a damn thing out there that we could see. I know she went there for help,” said Jackson, pouring himself a whiskey.
“Maybe not,” said his bodyguard. “Maybe she met someone out there and got a ride. Her car was shitty. It could have broken down.”
Jackson chewed the inside of his mouth, nodding at the other man. It was possible. The car was almost twenty years old and falling apart. What the fuck? A CPA usually had pretty decent credit and could afford the downpayment on a car.
“I should have never let her old man have access to those records until I knew he’d finish the job. Bastard had a bigger conscience than I thought. Didn’t even budge when I threatened his bitch daughter.”
“Never can tell with people. I’ll send the photo out to the boys and see if they’ve seen her.”
“Make sure we keep an eye on the warehouse. That fucking parade has her attention. She won’t just walk away from that.”
He could hear the heels of his partner tapping against the marble floor of his mansion. When the door opened, sure enough, Douglass was standing in the doorway.
“Did you find her?”
“No,” he said, slamming his drink on the table. The whiskey spilled, making him even more pissed off. As the bodyguard left, his partner took a seat.
“Maybe the old man burned everything.”
“No. No,” said Jackson. “He’s not that kind of man. He’s the kind that makes twenty copies and put them in safe deposit boxes. No. The fucking files are out there.”
“Just what was in them?” asked Douglass.
“Everything. Fucking everything. The illegal materials, illegal workers, shipments of marble, and ships that also carried some of our best ass,” he smirked. “We had to do headcounts in order to try and write them off as staff, hired legally. We had all the forged papers for them, making them legal workers.” His partner laughed, shaking his head.
“Legal, huh? I guess some countries don’t give a shit if you count fourteen-year-old ass as legal.” Both men chuckled. “Speaking of, how is the new build coming along in Mansur?”
“Almost done. It should attract the fishing boats and the backwoods boys. We won’t put our best girls out there, but it will make us plenty of money. Also, we need to talk about the two lawsuits on the builds for McNeese and that elementary school in Metairie. The lawyers keep pushing back the court dates, but we’ve got to either settle or fight this.”
“I can’t think about that right now. I’m worried about the shit that woman has.”
“Her house was empty,” said Douglass. “The boys went by yesterday and said most of her clothing was gone. They didn’t find any files, there was no safe in the house, and nothing with our names on it. Maybe she really doesn’t know.”
“Bullshit. That old man put those files somewhere that she would find them, and we have to get them back.”
“What if she’s shared them with someone else?” asked Douglass. Jackson stood, staring at his partner.
“Then we kill every man or woman who has set eyes on them.”