CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“Okay. What now?” asked Luca. They all noticed his hands were shaking slightly and stared at him.
“Luca, you don’t have to go,” said Ham.
“No. No, I need to face her again. I’ve been running from this woman for more than half my life. Terrified. Terrified that she would find me or Olive. I can’t let that happen. Do you have a vest or something, just in case?”
The room chuckled, nodding their heads.
“Or something,” smirked Christian. “You don’t have to worry about that. We want to keep her alive. Give her false hope. She has to believe that you’re turning over Olive.”
“Why aren’t we just calling the feds to pick her up?” asked Rowe. Iggy turned to his friend.
“Because the feds have been benefiting from her little stock market games,” said Iggy.
“Give the boy a blue ribbon,” smiled Rose. “He’s right. The feds, at least a few, have been feeding her insider information. That’s how she made all that money. We’re going to ensure they know nothing about what we’re doing. Neela is about to find herself in a pickle she can’t get out of.”
“The market left her broke. All of it. Her vendors are calling her about now. And we know for damn sure that the Swamp Rats are calling her,” said Jean.
“Then it’s time for the next step,” said Iggy. He turned to Skull, Gunner, and Razor and smiled. “Ready for another ride?”
“Brother, we are always ready for a ride. It’s wet as fuck out there and is most likely going to get a helluva lot worse.
Wear your rain gear and put that fucking stealth netting on.
The Rats might get a little antsy before we can explain everything but it won’t matter.
They love us.” Gunner, Razor and Skull chuckled but Iggy found nothing funny about the matter.
Gunner wasn’t wrong. It was fucking miserable outside. The rain that had subsided earlier in the day had come back with a vengeance and everything they’d feared about the storm had come true.
The first tropical storm had teased them. It came ashore, spun around, dropped a shit ton of rain, blew debris everywhere and then decided to head back out into the gulf for a second wind.
The second storm was already sitting out there like a fat fucking cat waiting for its’ dinner. When the two storms collided, they became one massive hurricane. Some said before it finally came ashore, it would be wider than Katrina.
All of New Orleans was preparing. They vowed to not allow it to happen again. Businesses were boarding their doors and windows, sandbags were lining the river and roads, and levees were being check and re-checked.
Water bottles couldn’t be found anywhere. Every case, every gallon jug had been purchased, waiting for disaster. Non-perishables disappeared from store shelves, gas tanks were filled, leaving gas stations to close their doors due to empty pumps.
Looking at the road ahead, the four men groaned realizing that cars were already attempting to make their way north, away from the gulf, away from the Mississippi, and away from New Orleans.
They didn’t have that luxury. Just outside of Houma they pulled into a restaurant and killed their bikes. They were soaked to the skin but bikers didn’t bitch about being wet. They embraced it.
Iggy looked around the parking lot, silently counting the number of other motorcycles. He stared at Skull who smirked.
“Relax, brother. They’re not fucking stupid. They don’t want a war with us and they won’t start one. They’re being cautious and they should be. We could have wiped them out years ago.”
“Why didn’t you?” asked Iggy. “If they’re a one-percenter, why not?”
“Because like many things, they are not what they seem,” said Gunner. “Come on, kid. Let’s get inside.”
Skull stepped into the restaurant and bar first, his head ducking as he walked through the doorway. Gunner and Razor followed, Iggy taking up the rear.
The sudden quietness and stillness made Iggy very nervous but as he looked around, no one was reaching for a weapon. No one was standing. No one was posturing as if to say, ‘I dare you’. They all just smirked at Skull.
“I have to assume with a head like that, you’re Skull,” said a man walking toward him. Skull smirked and nodded.
“You must be Nutt,” he said extending his hand.
“That’s me. That’s my second, Plum and my road captain, Wood.” Iggy frowned looking at the men and then back at Gunner and Razor. They weren’t going to question the names, but Iggy just had to.
“Hold on. You’re Nutt, he’s Plum, and he’s Wood.”
“That’s right,” said the man staring directly at him.
“You’re fans of a ballet. You like the Nutcracker?” asked Iggy.
“You got a problem with the ballet?” asked Wood. Iggy held up his hands shaking his head.
“Not at all. A friend of ours owns a ballet school and was a former ballerina.”
“We know,” said Nutt. “Our daughters all went to the school with Lissa. They’ve been performing the Nutcracker since they were babies. They gave us these names.”
“Coolest shit ever,” smirked Iggy. The tension eased and the men all chuckled, nodding their heads.
“Take a seat. Beer?” asked Plum.
“It’s a fucking mess out there, brother. Just hot coffee for me and a sandwich if they can make one,” said Skull.
“Already done,” said Nutt. “Ghost said y’all were the one’s coming. We knew we had to have food or get our hand bitten off.”
The food and hot coffee appeared out of nowhere and the four men took advantage of some personal fuel. Skull looked at Iggy, who still seemed somewhat confused.
“Iggy, the Swamp Rats have been considered a one-percenter club for almost twenty years,” said Skull.
“Considered?” frowned Iggy.
“Boy is smart,” grinned Nutt. “We’re not much different than y’all. We carry a fine line between legal and not. Except we’re more inclined to be on the not side and more inclined to not give a fuck. We focus specifically on true one-percenter clubs.
“We don’t run drugs, we don’t traffic women or children, and we sure as fuck don’t hurt innocent people. We stop those that do in a very discreet way. That’s why we agreed to the loan to the Graveyard Saints. We knew Neela couldn’t pay it back and we want them out of business.”
“Did the feds know?” asked Iggy.
“Nope. We don’t care much for the feds or any of the alphabet soup agencies. They had their informant on the inside, we had ours.” Iggy frowned staring at Wood, then at the others. “Tank was one of ours. He went over to their side more than twenty years ago.”
“So, the plan is to make her think you’re coming for Olive and get your money?” asked Iggy.
“Something like that,” said Skull. “We’ll get to all the details. All you need to know is that all of these men were former military or first-responders. Wood is one of the best fucking paramedics ever in New Orleans. He saved hundreds of lives after Katrina.”
“That’s fucking cool, brother,” said Iggy. “Never met a medic I didn’t like in the Corps. Those bastards weren’t afraid to take fire while patching us all up. I just have one favor to ask of all of you.”
“What’s that kid?” asked Nutt.
“Keep my future wife alive.”