6. Chapter Six
Chapter Six
Remy was in a bad mood. He was staring straight out ahead on the road, not even paying attention to cars zooming by us. I could tell that whoever this John guy was, he wasn’t going to be happy to see the LeBlanc brothers. When Remy got back to New Orleans, after we got over our shit, I noticed he was reticent. Withdrawn. I learned quickly that this was him in a bad mood. There weren’t many things these days that could get him this way. However, our mama was one of them.
We pulled our bikes next to the several that were already parked. I noticed that, as usual, Stone and Brick’s bikes were the first two in the lineup. Looked like instead of them heading over to the Tours, they stopped in for a drink.
“You ready for this?” I asked Remy as I climbed off my bike, watching him.
Remy nodded.
We pushed the two burgundy doors open to the Voodoo Bar. It was nestled on a corner. The red wooden door reminded me of some old-world chamber door, complete with six-pane windows on each door.
The inside looked like a potion master’s lair with distressed and very dark stained wooden planked walls and shelving. The shelving was reinforced by metal brackets to hold the multitude of liquor bottles. The adjacent wall to the liquor shelves held shelving specifically for the hundreds of types of beers the Voodoo Bar offered. The bar was of shiny black marble that Riot wiped down meticulously while he manned it and demanded the other bartenders who worked for him do the same.
Our boots clicked across the cobblestone flooring as we passed through the stucco archway that led to Riot’s prized bar. He was standing behind it, grabbing beers for the early crowd. When he saw us, he nodded his greeting, and I gave him a two-fingered salute as I nudged my brother. I didn’t know who the fuck John was or what the fucker looked like, but by the ruckus the guy at the end of the bar was causing, I’d bet my ass it was him.
“What do you think? Is that him?” I asked Remy as he stared at the guy who boasted a gold necklace around his neck and wrist. Designer jeans, if I had to call it, and what looked like a fresh haircut and beard.
“Too fancy for Mama, definitely,” Remy answered.
“Mr. Johnson said he likes to flirt with the women. He looks like someone who came into new money, for sure. That has to be John. And if it’s not him, we’ll apologize and buy him a round of drinks,” I said, snorting.
John was surrounded by a few women who hung on to his every word. If I had to guess, he was probably telling them the story of how he owned houses and cars and maybe even a fucking island and had lots of money because, didn’t they all?
Remy and I joined him. I hadn’t noticed Stone and Brick until they shuffled up behind us, although I knew they were there.
“That are guy?” Stone rumbled next to me.
“Yup, we believe so,” I answered. “Mama’s new boyfriend. The fucker worked for us, and we had no damned clue who he was.”
“Let’s go then,” Brick said, cracking his knuckles and rolling his neck. If I thought Remy was a powder keg, these two were barrels of the stuff.
Riot eyed us as we made our way to the end of the bar. He caught my eye. “You gonna need the basement?”
“Probably,” I told him, nodding.
The women standing around John eyed all of us. Some with fear and others with the same lust and desire in their eyes I was used to when women peruse our cuts. They recognized the Sinners’ logo and acted accordingly depending on the situation.
Suddenly, the woman I’d bumped into yesterday flashed before my eyes. I remembered her curves in that dress that billowed around her creamy smooth thighs. But I shook off the image because now was not the time to lust over a woman I’d probably never see again.
“Ladies,” I greeted, putting on my best smile that instantly melted the fear in their eyes and wet their panties.
Then, I tilted my head in the opposite direction, telling them to take a hike.
Scoffing, they all moved away from John to the opposite end of the bar to hang on to some other dumbass that would soak up their attention.
“Carmen, take over the bar for a few,” Riot called out to one of the servers who’d been there since the Sinners took over Voodoo. Then he joined us.
“John, buddy,” I said, plastering a smile on my face and clapping him on the shoulder. “Long time, no see.”
He startled and turned, just realizing the shit he was in. It was obvious he knew who we were.
“Boys. I was just picking up your mama something to eat,” he recovered, schooling his features, but he knew he was fucked.
“Really? Had a visit with good ole Mama a few minutes ago,” I told him, sliding onto the seat one of the women had just vacated. Remy slid on his right side. He was surrounded and knew it.
“And?” he said. That damn bravado again. It was going to piss me off and get him killed.
What the fuck am I saying? He is a dead man anyway.
“We’ve been hearing some unsettling things about you, John,” Remy cut in with a menacing growl, losing his patience.
John didn’t say anything, so I forged on.
“See, a little birdie told us that you came up with a fucking ludicrous plan to steal from the Sinners. And we thought, nah, that can’t be true because only an idiot would actually have a harebrained idea to steal from us.”
“You’re right,” he agreed, then sipped his beer. “That is stupid.”
I had to hand it to him. He played a good fucking game. Masked his fear well as fuck. He had balls. I could see why it was easy for him to manipulate our mama. That perfect blond hair. Sparkling blue eyes. He was young. Just the way my mama liked them. But what he failed to realize was that his girlfriend, or whatever the fuck Mama was to him, had made us into ruthless men. And he’d messed with our shit, so now it was time for him to pay. But first, we had to know who the hell he sold the guns to.
“So, if it was so stupid, then why did you think you could get away with it?” Remy snarled in his face, banging his hand on the marble bar.
The bastard jumped and tried to bolt, only to run into Stone and Brick standing behind him.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Brick said, grabbing John by the upper arms and pushing him back toward his seat.
“Sit the fuck down,” Stone ordered. “You dumb motherfucker, stealing from us.”
“I…I didn’t,” John stammered, eyes wide with fear now. All the bravado gone now in the face of real danger.
And there was no doubt all the men surrounding him were dangerous.
“You did, John. Your little friends gave you up and guess where they are now.” I saw his deep swallow when he finally realized he was done.
“I’m…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”
“Yes the fuck you did,” I said, cutting him off. “You just didn’t mean to get caught. Now, we’re going to take a little walk down to the basement, and you’re going to tell us everything we want to know,” I stated, clapping him on his back.
The guy looked like he was going to be sick. Riot must’ve thought so, too, because he said, “Don’t you fucking puke on my bar. I’ll beat the shit out of you.”
We were going to do that anyway if he didn’t tell us what we wanted to know.
Remy and I rose from our stools and moved back to let Brick and Stone grab John by the arms and lead him down and around the bar. A long hallway stretched before us that consisted of the men’s and women’s bathrooms, the employees’ lounge, Riot’s office, and another door at the end of the hallway that opened to stairs leading down into the basement.
Riot kept all his alcohol shipments down here, as well as a freezer with a refrigerator for the simple foods they served at the place. Riot was the only one with the key, so there was no worry about someone walking in when we had sessions like we were about to have now.
We followed Riot down the stairs, the light illuminating our way. When we reached the bottom, Brick and Stone ushered John toward the back wall. When he saw the chains and shackles protruding from it, he tried to dig his heels in, fighting their grips.
“Stop fucking squirming!” Stone groused, pulling John forward.
“You can’t do this to me,” he whined. “I don’t know anything.”
“If you don’t know anything, then you wouldn’t have tried to run. If you didn’t know anything, your name wouldn’t even have come up. All you have to do is tell us who you sold the guns to,” I explained to him as the boys put him in the chains.
“They’ll kill me!” he screamed, trying to pull his wrists free of the chains, but of course, with no luck.
I threw my head back and laughed. I honestly believed he thought knowing whoever had our guns would potentially save him from us killing him and was going to deter us from getting what we wanted. I settled right next to him.
“I’ve killed two of your buddies already over this, and they gave up your name,” I whispered in his ear, causing him to still. “Do you really think I give a fuck about you? Motherfucker, I’ll kill you if you don’t tell me what I want to know.”
Then I stepped back, drew my Damascus Feather Bowie from my side, and rubbed the flat side of it against my palm. It was a beautiful knife and had seen a lot of bloodshed in the seven years I had it. A twenty-first birthday present from one of the club whores long gone from Sinner protection now because her family took her back in.
I didn’t like guns, although I was a decent shot. They got the job done but were too impersonal and loud. If I didn’t use the gators, I liked to see them die slowly. There was something about seeing the light leave someone’s eyes up close when they realized that was it for them. When they realized they were taking their last breaths.
“Tell me what I want to know. Who did you sell my guns to?” I asked as calmly as I could. I wanted him to know I wasn’t fucking around. If he didn’t know how serious this was, then he was a fucking fool.
“I don’t know,” he blubbered, tears streaming down his cheeks. “I’m telling the truth.”
“Why the fuck are you crying?” Stone asked, snorting. “We haven’t done anything yet?”
But just when he said it, Remy reared back and gave him a shot to the gut. John bowled forward, dangling from the chains. He coughed while he tried to get his breath back.
“Please. I don’t know what you’re talking about,” John insisted.
“If you didn’t know anything, then why would our mama beg us not to kill you?” I asked, slicing my knife across his cheek.
“She knows what you did, too, I’m betting. Maybe we should give her another visit.”
“Go see her!” he screamed. “She’ll tell you It wasn’t me. I didn’t do anything! It was Madeline. She concocted this whole thing.”
I gazed at Remy to see what he thought about this. It was true, our mama was blabbing about us and what we did. That was how this motherfucker got involved in the first place, according to Taylor, one of our workers, but she wasn’t smart enough to come up with something like this. She didn’t have the connections either. But this guy, her boyfriend, he knew people. It was him. He contacted someone who put the right people in his path.
“Next time we see our mama, she’ll be mourning your death.” I swiped again, this time in the crook of his arm. I leaned in real close so he could hear me. “I just nicked your brachial artery. Soon, you will start to feel woozy. Sleepy. Your thoughts will slow, and you’ll start to slur your words. Do you know why, John?”
His head lolled, but he shook it no, not bothering to try to voice the words.
“It’s because you will be dying. Bleeding out so slowly that it will feel as though you are just falling asleep.”
His eyes widened, and then the splattering sound of water hitting the cement floor in the basement echoed through the room.
“Fuck, are you kidding me?” Riot groaned as we all looked down at the piss trailing from John’s designer jeans. “I’ve got to clean that shit up.”
“Now, who the fuck did you sell my guns to?” I asked. “Tell me and my brother will patch you, and by tonight, you can be sitting on our mama’s couch.”
“It was,” he started, then took a deep breath before he tried to begin again. His eyes closed, then sprung open when I slapped him in the face. “The Greeks. Deacon Onassis, youngest son of Atticus Onassis of the Onassis Crime Syndicate,” John rushed out.
“Shiiitttt,” Remy hissed, then rubbed his hands through his brown hair. “How the fuck did he get in contact with the fucking Greek Mafia? They don’t run out of New Orleans.”
“No, they don’t,” I said, trying to think of how the hell this nobody could’ve gotten into contact with them. “Not usually.” I turned to John, who was on his last leg. “How did you contact them?”
“Cousin,” he panted. “Cousin in the joint,” John pushed out.
“Name,” Stone ordered.
“Vinny. Vinny Benoit,” John said. “Now, help me.”
I smirked at him. “Sure, buddy. You did your part.” I stepped closer to him and took my knife, then pushed it straight into his heart. His eyes widened as if to say, I lied to him.
“My mama will see you in hell soon,” I whispered into his ear, then pulled my knife from his chest.
While Stone and Brick unshackled him, Remy, Riot, and I stood in a trio mulling over our next steps.
“What do you think?” Riot asked. “Is he telling the truth?”
Remy answered. “Yup.”
There was no explanation as to why he thought so. And I didn’t need one either. I trusted my brother when it came to things like this.
“So, who do we fuck up next?” Riot asked as Stone and Brick dragged John past them and up the stairs.
A door led up and out of the building and into an alley. They’d make it look like he was just a drunk they were throwing out the place.
“Let’s put out fillers to see if they’re still around or if our guns are still in the area. I doubt it, but at least we’ll get those fucker’s attention,” I surmised. “I’ll let Loki know.”
We followed Riot back up the stairs as I pulled my phone out of my pocket and called Loki. If the Greeks were involved, then we had our fucking hands full.