Chapter 17
Zephyr
”You ready?” I asked Rome as we sat in his car in the parking lot of the Fair Grounds Racecourse.
He sighed. ”Merdé! I feel like an idiot.”
”Imagine how I feel,” I mocked. ”I need to give an Oscar-worthy performance of being a closet gambler.”
”And I”m the best friend who”s helping you kick the habit. How the hell did Grace convince us to do this?”
But we both knew we didn”t need convincing. We were doing this to protect our family. We were doing this to eliminate the threat of the Volkov syndicate. We were doing this to make sure Gaia”s baby would have a company to take over so that the family would survive.
”You sure Hugo is in there,” Rome asked.
I looked at the text message from Ash. ”Yeah.”
My cousin, Hugo, did have a gambling problem. He also had money, so it wasn”t a problem per se, but he and my uncle Pierre, who was an alcoholic to boot, were known to hang out with some unsavory elements. Our job was to convince Hugo he was getting some juicy gossip about my gambling habit. In addition, Ash was going to plant some rumors and innuendos with key confidential informants of his who he knew worked with the Russians.
This was just the start.
For the next thirty days, we”d keep pushing the lie that I was in a deep money hole and hope that the Russians would come calling, seeing me as the weak Doucet link.
”When is Blaze meeting Alina Volkov?” Rome asked.
”Monday.” Three days from today. At that meeting, Blaze would make it clear that the Volkovs could go fuck themselves. He”d even take Henri with him to make that point. ”Hey, how do you feel about Henri not knowing about any of this?”
”Good.”
I narrowed my eyes. ”I thought you trusted Henri.”
”I do. But not more than family, Z.”
”Henri is family.”
”Not to me,” Rome remarked. ”I know y”all think of him as a surrogate father, and I”m grateful for his help. But I want to keep this whole thing close to the chest so it doesn”t blow up in our faces.”
”So, this is less about not trusting Henri and more about only trusting us?”
”Oui.”
”Alright. Showtime,” I said with a Hollywood swagger and stepped out of the car.
The air buzzed with anticipation and the smell of turf as Rome and I navigated through the crowded racecourse. The place was a sensory overload: the vibrant colors of the jockeys” silks, the thunderous roar of the crowd as the horses thundered down the stretch, and the sharp tang of spilled beer and fried food mixing in the warm air. It was a typical day at the races—and an entirely unique one for me. I could, hands down, say this was the weirdest fucking shit I”d ever done in my life so far.
I steered us towards the betting windows, feigning the enthusiasm of a man on a lucky streak.
”Let”s make it big today.” I clapped Rome on the back with simulated bravado.
”You know your limits,” Rome whispered just this side of loud.
”Come on, man, we”re here to have fun,” I replied tersely, injecting irritation in my voice. Christ! This was just about the most bizarre thing I”d ever done.
”Yeah, I know, Z. But you”re having too much. Gaia is going to cut my dick off if you don”t get this—”
”Hey, Z, Rome.” Hugo all but crashed into us. ”I see Z in a place like this, but you, Rome?”
Rome looked uncomfortable. Oscar fucking worthy! ”Ah…just keeping Z company.”
”I got some tips for you,” Hugo dropped his voice.
”What, you masquerading as a tipster now?” I joked. ”Hey, Bernie, how”s it hangin”?”
”All good, Z. What”s your poison?”
I placed bets on a long shot, a necessary part of the ruse to bleed my supposed funds dry.
As we found a place to stand, I excused myself, and Rome grabbed my arm. ”Zephyr, where the fuck are you going?”
”You”re not my babysitter, Rome,” I bit back and winked at Hugo, keeping my voice low, but I knew Hugo could hear us.
”You”re not meeting that guy. You gamble up front, and that”s that.”
I removed Rome”s hand from my arm and began to walk away.
”What”s dat about?” I heard Hugo ask Rome.
”Ah…nothing. Just keeping Z in line,” Rome replied.
As the horses lined up at the gate for the next race, I threaded my way through the crowd, my heart racing not from the thrill of the bet but from the impending meeting. In a secluded spot near the paddock, where the smells of horse and hay were strongest, I found my bookie, or rather, the undercover cop playing the part.
”Eddie, my man.”
Eddie, who was really Detective Billy Baker, leaned against the railing, a picture of casual indifference. ”Zephyr,” he greeted, his voice low.
”What”s da story?” I leaned against the railing next to him.
”Da story is dat you owe me money, Z.”
”Keep your voice down, man,” I grunted. ”Today is the day. I”m sure of it.”
”How many Gs have you dropped?”
I grinned. ”I don”t kiss n” tell…or bet n” tell. You know dat.”
I wondered if I was overdoing it. Eddie had placed himself close to one of Ash”s CIs, which was why we were having our loud, whispered conversation.
”You have some bad gris-gris, I”ll tell you dat,” Eddie chuckled.
I nodded, playing along, ”Yeah, Eddie, I”ve had a rough streak. I need a big win, something to get me back on my feet.”
”If that”s what you want, Z, then you gotta, you know, shell big.”
”I”m already in the hole with you.”
”I”ll give you a discount. How about dat? The first bet is free.”
Eddie had established himself as an off-the-books bookie with whom the risk was higher, but so were the rewards. He worked for an organized crime outfit that ran all the gambling—illegal and legal—along the coast from Louisiana through Alabama. Grace had told me that there had been ten murders in the past six months, all pointing to some kind of turf war taking place, which was why a major case was running this op.
”How much we talkin”?” I ignored the man who was standing far enough to hear us but not close enough that it was too obvious. Ash and Nick had gone over how I”d have to handle myself until my ears bled out.
Eddie”s eyes were sharp, assessing. ”So, let”s see how much you down for and….”
He threw out numbers that made my stomach twist—the amount of money I”d lost was astronomical, a figure designed to catch the attention of anyone looking to exploit someone in financial desperation. We kept our voices down, but the tension between us was palpable, a carefully choreographed dance for any prying eyes.
That”s when Rome appeared, his timing impeccable. ”What the hell, Zeph?” he barked, loud enough for nearby bettors to turn their heads.
”I”ll smell you later, Eddie.” I casually came up to Rome. ”What”s up, brother?”
”Don”t.” Rome grabbed my arm. ”Let”s go.”
”You go. I”ll find a ride back.”
”Zephyr,” Rome ground out, but I could see that he was rolling his eyes because it was a ridiculous situation. He dropped his voice. ”You”re throwing away more money? On what, another ”sure thing”?”
I rounded on him, anger flaring in a well-rehearsed display. ”Mind your own business. You”re married to my sister, not me. I”ve got this under control.”
But Rome was relentless, pushing further, drawing more attention to us. ”Control? You call this control? You”re in over your head!”
Our argument escalated, voices rising over the sound of the approaching race, the thunder of hooves a distant backdrop to our staged confrontation. It ended with Rome storming off, shaking his head in disgust, and me, left standing there, fists clenched, the picture of a man unraveled by his gambling demons.
As I made my way back to the stands, the race climaxing in a flurry of cheers and groans, I couldn”t help but feel the weight of eyes on me. The scene had been set, the trap laid. Now, all we could do was wait and hope that our performance at the Fair Grounds was convincing enough to lure the predators out of the shadows.
I got a ride with Hugo as planned so that he could be the shoulder I”d cry on.
”What”s going on with you and Rome?” he asked casually.
Hugo and I weren”t close, but we”d recently dodged death along with Blaze when my house was firebombed with us in it. Hugo had helped the cops with their investigation into Vory Zakone, the man who”d been hired to take out Hugo”s brother and mine. He succeeded with Yves and, thankfully, not with Blaze.
”Ah…just family shit. You know how it is.”
Hugo nodded. ”Saw you talkin” to Eddie.”
”Just shootin” the shit,” I evaded, looking out of the window.
”Yeah? Or you betting with him?” Hugo changed lanes without signaling, and someone behind us honked. Asshole driver.
”With Eddie? Fuck no. That”s an easy way to lose a shit ton of money and my kneecaps.”
Hugo chuckled. ”Come on, man, you still have all your Bayou Belle Holdings and trust fund money.”
I shrugged.
”What?” Hugo asked.
”Jazz Sessions is not doing great.”
”I hear it”s full all the time.”
”Inflation, man, you know how it is. We”re bleeding money.” I sighed. ”Blaze is fuckin” furious that I”m runnin” the business into the ground. He”s threatening to pull out.”
”You got da money to buy him out?”
”I”m hopeful,” I grinned. ”I did win well today.”
Hugo nodded. ”Ah…how much you in the hole for, Z?”
I laughed. ”I”m not in the hole. It”s all fine and—”
”I know Eddie, and he doesn”t shoot the shit, Z.” Hugo sounded concerned, and I wondered if he was the right person to drop me as bait to.
”Stop lettin” your imagination run, cher,” I quipped. ”Just drop me off at Jazz Sessions.”
”Okay, brother.”
Right before I got out of Hugo”s car, I said, ”I don”t want you to talk about my business to anyone. You got that?”
”Sure, man. You know I”d never and—”
”Just sayin”. My business is mine. You keep your mouth shut.”
I was really hoping he wouldn”t. The sooner that someone approached me, the better—cause I wasn”t sure how long I could keep this act going. Because now we needed to have another showdown in the bar between Blaze and me. To make it authentic, I was going to have to isolate myself from Gaia, Rome, and Blaze because once the Volkovs targeted me, I”d be under their surveillance. We”d still all meet at the bar, but N”awlins would know that the tighter-than-a-crawfish”s ass Doucet siblings had a falling out.