CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Olive pulled on the stealth netting over her thin cotton tank top, then pulled on the Bayou Skillet t-shirt over it.
“Are you sure this will protect me?” she asked in disbelief.
“I think I’m wounded,” said Ham gripping his chest. “The G.R.I.P. team will definitely be wounded. We promise it will protect you. Anywhere that she could shoot and cause immediate death is covered by the netting.”
“Except my head,” she murmured. Ham stared at her and nodded with a pensive expression.
“Fair point. We’ll have them check into something.” She stared at him the laughed, shaking her head.
“I hate you guys sometimes,” she smirked. Then there were tears in her eyes. Iggy wiped them away, kissing her.
“Nothing will happen to you. We will all be here and so are the boys from the Swamp Rats.”
“What about Luca? D-dad?” she stammered. Iggy smiled down at her, kissing her forehead.
“He’s safe. The team got him out of the building before Tank saw anything, which was the plan all along.”
“Will he be safe? The man, Tank. Will he be okay?”
“He will be once we stop her.” Iggy’s ears perked up and he nodded to the others hearing the sound of someone pulling up outside. She should have brought a jet ski or boat. They were all going to need one to get out of this place tonight.
Iggy left her standing at a table with a small group of older men. She wore an apron and tried to plaster on a fake smile.
“Don’t worry, honey. We’re the good guys,” smirked one of them. She gave a nervous smile back and chuckled.
“That’s what they all say.” The men genuinely laughed when the bell above the door rang. Olive didn’t turn, just called out to the new guest.
“Take a seat anywhere. We’ll be closing soon.” Neela said nothing but Olive heard the scrape of the chair on the wood floor. Steeling herself, she took a deep breath and turned to walk toward the new guest.
“What can I get you?” she asked with a friendly smile.
“You,” said Neela.
“Sorry, I don’t swing that way. I’m sure someone else might take you up on it,” she said with a small grin.
“I’m not a fucking sicko,” she snapped. Olive took a step back. “You’re my fucking daughter.”
“Wh-what? No. No, I’m sorry but my mother is dead.”
“I hate to disappoint you sweetheart but I’m not dead. I’m alive and I’m here to get you to sign a few things. But I damn sure ain’t dead.”
“Yet.” The voice sent chills up Neela’s back. She turned and stared at Tank in the doorway. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Giving you one last chance, Neela.”
“Get the fuck out of here. Now! That’s an order,” she said pulling her shoulders back. Tank stared at her realizing just how old she looked. Gone was the youthful, pretty girl that once had all heads turning. In her place was a bitter, money hungry, power thirsty wretched woman.
“I don’t take orders from you, Neela.”
“Then who do you take orders from, Tank?” she demanded.
“From me,” smirked Nutt from behind the bar. Neela turned and blinked twice. She’d only met Nutt three other times. She was pissed at herself for not recognizing him.
“You fucking traitor! Just like Bunny. Both of you are fucking traitors!” she screamed. She turned to Nutt, raising her hands. “Nutt. Nutt I have her. Here she is. Help me to force her to sign the papers and it’s all yours. Everything.”
The swinging double doors of the kitchen flew open, six men stepping into the room. Spider was one of them. The other five, she didn’t recognize. Olive just looked at the woman who had given birth to her.
“Give me the papers,” she said calmly. Neela looked at her wide-eyed. For a moment she wondered if she had any idea what she was giving up. Reaching into the money bag, now completely soaked, she pulled out a sealed plastic bag and opened it.
Inside was a folder with a dozen forms for her to sign and designate Neela as the new owner of everything. Every damn thing she’d ever hoped to have in her hands was just a breath away.
Olive took the folder and walked toward the bar. She looked at the man, Nutt and held out a shaky hand.
“May I have a pen please?”
“Are you sure, kid?” he asked quietly. Olive nodded.
She took a few moments to glance at each of the papers, then turned back to the first one and began signing. She scratched through a few things, writing something else and Neela frowned. It didn’t matter. She couldn’t change the fate of what was about to occur.
“There. Signed.”
“You saved my life,” smirked Neela.
“I doubt that. Everything is signed over to the Swamp Rats.” Neela paled, wobbling on her feet. She took a step backward, feeling the door behind her as her lip trembled.
“Whatever reason your husband had, whatever kind of man he was, he knew that giving you control of everything would eventually kill what he built.” Neela just stared at her.
“See, you’re not the only one that can conduct research.
His intentions all along were to make the club go clean.
You knew that and didn’t want it. Instead, you made sure to poison him.
Slowly. I’m sure he never expected it would take this long for justice to be served. ”
“N-no,” she said shaking her head. “I-I was making money in the market. I had something promising.”
“BioQuid?” asked an unfamiliar voice. Jean ducked his head as he stepped out of the kitchen, Ham, Rush, and Christian behind him.
“Cute name, right? We made it up. All of it. We made the market desirable, volatile, and then failing. It was fake. All of it. You saw what we wanted you to see. Everything now belongs to the Swamp Rats.”
Neela knew she was stuck. Twenty men. Twenty massive, angry men stared at her. In the distance lightning and thunder roared so loudly, the entire building shook. Lights flickered on and off and Neela saw her chance.
When the lights came on, she was gone.
“What now?” asked Olive rushing to hold Iggy. Ham smiled.
“Now we use what we have.”