Page 76

Rex

I drum my fingers on Rem’s desk. The waiting game is getting to me far more than it should. Patience has never been one of my virtues, and it’s showing. Everything is set and ready. We just need them to take the bait. The sooner we can end this, the faster I can focus on what really matters. Rem and our kids.

My phone buzzes on the desktop. I snatch it up, and my heart rate quickens as I see Rem’s name flash across the screen. Swiping to answer, I bring it to my ear.

“Hey, darlin’,” I drawl.

“Rex,” she says, her tone clipped and businesslike. “Any movement yet?”

“Nothing. It’s like watching paint dry but with more guns and potential for bloodshed.”

“It’s better than being a personal pin cushion and wired to monitors.”

I chuckle despite the tension. “How’re you feeling?”

“Like a beached whale with indigestion,” she grumbles. “Your child seems determined to use my bladder as a trampoline.”

“Sounds like they’ve got your fighting spirit already,” I say, a smile tugging at my lips.

“Don’t you start,” she warns, but I can hear the affection beneath her gruff tone. “I hate this. I hate being apart from you, the kids, and from everything going on.”

“I know, Rem. I hate it as much as you do, but if all goes to plan, we won’t be apart much longer.”

“God, I hope so. Life just keeps kicking us when we’re down. I’m ready for some peace.”

“Peace and motorcycle clubs, darlin’?”

“Yeah, I know. Pipe dream.”

“We’ll make it happen,” I promise, even as doubt gnaws at my gut. But before I can say more, my phone beeps with an incoming text. “Hold on, Rem.”

I pull it away from my face, and I see the message from Voodoo. Two words that set everything in motion.

They’re moving.

“Gotta go, darlin’,” I tell her. “It’s time.”

“Be careful. Come back to us.”

“Always,” I vow, ending the call.

I’m on my feet in an instant, adrenaline surging through my veins. The clubhouse erupts into controlled chaos as I bark orders, my brothers and sisters falling into formation with practiced ease. The roar of Harleys fills the air as we mount up.

The night air whips against my face as we tear through the streets. I lead the pack, my mind racing faster than my bike. Thankfully, Harlow and Tinsley already moved Meredith to the location. With any luck, I would beat the cartel there, and our play will work. Everything hinges on it.

I peel off from the group, heading straight towards the warehouse while the rest move into their positions.

The warehouse looms before me. I kill the engine of my Harley and hop off the bike. My boots crunch on the gravel as I approach the factory.

I slip inside through a side door, my hand instinctively resting on the gun at my hip. The interior is dimly lit. My eyes adjust quickly, scanning the space until they land on Meredith.

She’s slumped in a metal chair, her blonde hair hanging limply around her face. Even from here, I can see the rise and fall of her chest – still sedated, thank fuck.

I nod to Tinsley and Harlow, jerking my head towards the back exit. “Time to make yourselves scarce,” I mutter. They hesitate for a moment, concern etched on their faces, but a sharp look from me sends them moving.

The warehouse falls silent again, save for Meredith’s shallow breathing. I position myself behind a stack of crates. The air feels heavy, charged with anticipation.

Car doors slam outside. Guess that aren’t ones for being quiet. My muscles taut, ready for action. The large metal door groans as it’s pushed open, flooding the space with harsh light from the cars outside.

Two men in crisp suits enter the building. Behind them, four burly figures follow – enforcers most likely, their bulky frames betraying the presence of concealed weapons. Their suits exude an air of authority, their eyes scanning the warehouse with calculating precision.

“Spread out,” one of the leader’s orders, carrying a hint of a New York accent. “Find her.”

The enforcers fan out, their movements efficient and practiced. I press myself further into the darkness, my breath slow and controlled. My heart pounds in my chest, but years of experience keep me steady. I watch as one of the enforcers approaches Meredith’s slumped form, his hand reaching out to check her pulse.

“She’s alive,” he calls out, his voice gruff. “Just out cold.”

The suit with the New York accent strides forward, his expensive shoes echoing in the cavernous space. He grabs a fistful of Meredith’s hair, yanking her head back. Her eyelids flutter, but she doesn’t wake.

“Wake her up,” he orders, releasing her roughly.

My jaw clenches as I watch one of the enforcers produce a syringe. I know it’s likely filled with adrenaline or some other stimulant to wake her up and get her talking. As much as I despise Meredith for what she’s done, seeing her treated like this makes my blood boil. But I force myself to remain still, waiting for the right moment.

The enforcer jabs the needle into Meredith’s arm, and within seconds, she jerks awake with a gasp. Her eyes, wide and unfocused, dart around the room in panic.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, Ms. Crane,” the suit says, his tone mockingly polite. “You’ve been a hard woman to find. Looks like someone left you gift wrapped for us.”

Meredith’s gaze finally settles on him, and I can see the moment recognition dawns. Fear flashes across her face, quickly replaced by defiance.

“Go to hell, Ricardo.”

“It’s curious that you’re here alone.”

I can’t help but smirk at Meredith’s attitude. For all her faults, the woman’s got balls. But as Ricardo’s words sink in, I know it’s time to make my move.

“She’s not alone,” I say.

I step out from behind the crates, my gun drawn and steady in my hand. The enforcers whirl around, their own weapons appearing as if by magic. But I’ve got the drop on them, and they know it. Ricardo’s eyes narrow as he takes me in, recognition flickering across his face.

“Rex Reed,” he says. “The new president of the New Orleans Zulu Kings. At last, we meet.”

I move forward slowly, my boots echoing on the concrete floor. Meredith’s attitude falters. I can see the pulse jump in her throat, her eyes darting between me and Ricardo like a cornered animal.

“Since we’re doing introductions,” Ricardo says, his tone casual as if we’re at a cocktail party instead of a standoff, “allow me to formally introduce myself. Ricardo Diaz, at your service.” He gives a mocking little bow, his eyes never leaving mine. “And this,” he gestures to the other suit, “is my brother, Mateo.”

Mateo nods curtly, his hand resting on the butt of a gun hidden beneath his jacket. The family resemblance is clear. Same sharp features and the same calculating gaze. But where Ricardo exudes charm, Mateo radiates cold efficiency.

“You know,” Ricardo continues, his voice taking on a conversational tone that sends a chill down my spine, “I think you might have met one of my other brothers. Alejandro. He took a trip down to New Orleans a few months back.” His eyes narrow slightly, a predatory gleam in them. “Funny thing is, we haven’t seen or heard from him since. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you, Mr. Reed?”

I meet Ricardo’s gaze unflinchingly, letting a lazy smirk play across my lips. “New Orleans is a dangerous place, Mr. Diaz. Filled with dangerous people, dark alleys, and deeper waters. Your brother wouldn’t be the first out-of-towner to get in over his head,” I drawl. “But we’re here to talk about current business, aren’t we?”

Ricardo’s eyes narrow, but I can see the glimmer of interest there. He’s a shark scenting blood in the water, and I’m dangling the bait right in front of him.

“You want your drugs back,” I continue, my gaze flicking briefly to Meredith. “And this lovely lady here is the key to finding them.”

Meredith’s eyes widen. “Rex, you bastar d? “

“Shut up,” I snap, not even sparing her a glance. My focus remains on Ricardo and Mateo.

Ricardo’s eyebrows raise slightly. “Is that so?” he says, his tone deceptively casual.

I take a step closer, my gun still trained on the group. “Let’s just say she’s been playing both sides. Thought she could skim a little off the top, sell to the highest bidder.” I let out a low chuckle to cover up my lie. “Didn’t count on getting caught between your organization and mine.”

Meredith’s face contorts with rage. “You lying son of a? “

“I said shut up,” I recoil, finally turning to face her. The look in my eyes silences her immediately.

Ricardo exchanges a glance with his brother, a silent conversation passing between them. Mateo gives an almost imperceptible nod.

“Interesting,” Ricardo muses, his gaze sliding back to me. “And I suppose you’re here to...what? Make a deal?”

I shrug, aiming for nonchalance. “I’m a businessman, Mr. Diaz. I know when to cut my losses. The way I see it, we both want this mess cleaned up.”

Ricardo’s eyes narrow, assessing me. “And what exactly are you proposing?”

“Simple,” I say, taking another step forward. “You get your drugs back, and we agree to stay out of each other’s way.”

“A tempting offer, Mr. Reed. But why should I trust you? For all I know, this could be an elaborate trap.”

“If I wanted you dead, Mr. Diaz, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. I’m offering you a way out of this mess that doesn’t end with bodies floating in the Mississippi. You get your products, and I get your drugs away from my club. We both win without bloodshed. I’ll even throw in Meredith to sweeten the deal. If you have one shipment missing, I’m sure there’s more. She’ll know who and where Rocky sold your product. “

Mateo shifts slightly, his hand tightening on his concealed weapon. Ricardo holds up a hand, silencing his brother before he can speak.

“Let’s say I’m interested,” Ricardo says, his tone measured. “Where exactly are these drugs you claim Ms. Crane has hidden?”

I smirk, my gaze flicking to Meredith. She’s glaring at me with pure hatred, but beneath that, I can see the fear. Good. She should be afraid.

“Now that,” I drawl, “is information I’m not quite ready to part with. Not until we’ve come to an agreement.”

Ricardo’s eyes narrow. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Reed.”

“Aren’t we all?” I counter, my grip on my gun never wavering. “Here’s what I propose. You and your brother come with me to retrieve the drugs. Your men stay here with Ms. Crane as...insurance.” Meredith lets out a strangled sound of protest, but I ignore her.

“And what guarantee do I have that this isn’t some elaborate trap?” Ricardo asks. “My family seems to disappear around you, or should I say around you and Rene Dixon’s daughter. Remington, I believe.”

I feel my jaw clench at the mention of Rem’s name, but I force myself to stay calm. “You’ve done your homework, Mr. Diaz. But if you know about Remington, then you know she’s not in any condition to be part of some elaborate scheme. As for guarantees...” I pause, weighing my next words carefully. “How about this? I’ll give you the location of some of the stash right now. As a show of good faith.”

Ricardo’s eyebrows raise slightly, intrigue evident on his face. He exchanges another silent glance with Mateo before turning back to me. “I’m listening.”

“Check the northwest corner of this very building. There’s a false wall behind a set of lockers. You’ll find a quarter of your missing product there.”

Meredith’s eyes go wide at my half-truth. “You found them?”

“You should have picked a better hiding place. It was pretty obvious,” I fire back. Truthfully, we didn’t have a fucking clue the location of the shipment, but neither she nor the Diaz brothers know that. So long as they don’t look too closely at the packages, they’ll be none the wiser.

Ricardo’s eyes narrow, studying me intently. After a long moment, he nods to one of his enforcers. The man steps away, pulling out a phone and speaking quietly into it.

“If you’re lying Reed...” Ricardo lets the threat hang in the air.

I meet his gaze unflinchingly. “I’m many things, Diaz, but I’m not stupid. Lying to you now would be suicide.”

The tension in the warehouse is palpable as we wait. Minutes tick by, feeling like hours. Finally, the enforcer’s phone buzzes. He listens for a moment, then nods to Ricardo.

Ricardo’s face breaks into a slow, predatory smile. “Well, well, Mr. Reed. It seems you’re a man of your word after all.” He adjusts his cufflinks, a gesture that somehow manages to look both casual and menacing. “Very well. I’m inclined to hear the rest of your proposal.”

I nod, keeping my expression neutral despite the surge of relief. “Like I said, you and your brother come with me to retrieve the rest. Your men stay here with Ms. Crane and the product I graciously delivered to prove to you that I am a man of my word.”

“And what’s to stop me from simply taking what I want now?” Ricardo asks, his tone deceptively light.

I allow a small smirk to play across my lips. “Because you’re smart enough to know that if anything happens to me, you’ll never find the rest of your product. Meredith knew where it was, not where it is now. If you kill me, you’ll never get it back.”

Ricardo studies me for a long moment, his eyes unreadable. Finally, he nods. “Very well, Mr. Reed. We have a deal. For now.”

I lower my gun slowly, making a show of holstering it. “Glad we could come to an understanding.”

As Ricardo turns to give instructions to his men, I catch Meredith’s eye. I give her a cold smile, leaning in close as I pass by her chair.

“Stay the fuck away from my family, Meredith,” I whisper, my voice low enough that only she can hear. “You brought this on yourself. Cross me or my family again, and there won’t be anywhere left for you to hide.”

She flinches at my words. I straighten up, turning back to Ricardo and Mateo.

“Shall we, gentlemen?” I gesture toward the door, my tone casual, as if we’re heading out for a friendly drink rather than a high-stakes drug deal.

Ricardo nods with calm calculation. “After you, Mr. Reed.”

As we step out into the cool night air, the tension in my shoulders eases slightly. The first part of the plan worked. Now comes the tricky part.

We climb into a sleek black SUV, Ricardo taking the wheel while Mateo slides into the back seat with me.

“Address?”

I rattle off an address in the Lower Ninth Ward, a neighborhood still pockmarked with abandoned buildings from Katrina. Ricardo nods, his eyes never leaving the road as he navigates the late-night traffic.

I can feel Mateo’s eyes boring into me from the backseat, his hand never straying far from his weapon.

As we cross the Industrial Canal, I speak up. “Take a left here.”

Ricardo complies, guiding the SUV down a narrow street lined with dilapidated houses. The headlights cut through the darkness, illuminating overgrown yards and boarded-up windows.

“Stop,” I command as we approach a ramshackle shotgun house, its paint peeling and porch sagging. “It’s in there.”

Ricardo kills the engine, exchanging a glance with his brother in the rearview mirror. “After you, Mr. Reed.”

I lead the way up the creaking steps, acutely aware of the two men at my back. The front door swings open with a rusty groan, revealing a musty interior cluttered with debris.

“This way,” I mutter, picking my way through the mess towards the back of the house.

In the kitchen, I pause in front of an ancient refrigerator. With a grunt, I shove it aside, revealing a trapdoor beneath. I heave open the door, revealing a set of rickety wooden stairs descending into darkness. The musty smell of damp earth and mold wafts up, making my nose twitch. I flick on my phone flashlight.

“Watch your step,” I warn over my shoulder. “These stairs have seen better days.”

The wood creaks ominously under our combined mass as Ricardo and Mateo follow me down. The air grows cooler and thicker with each step, the sounds from above fading away until all I can hear is our breathing and the soft shuffle of feet.

At the bottom, we emerge into a low ceiling room, the beam of my light barely penetrating the inky blackness. The walls are rough-hewn earth, supported by old timber beams that look like they’ve been here since before the Civil War.

“Where’s the light switch?” Ricardo demands.

I smirk in the darkness, my finger hovering over the switch in my pocket. “Right here,” I say and press the button.

Instantly, the room floods with harsh fluorescent light, momentarily blinding us all. As my eyes adjust, I hear the unmistakable sound of multiple guns being cocked.

“What the fuck?” Ricardo barks, blinking rapidly as his eyes adjust to the sudden brightness.

As the spots clear from my vision, I see we’re surrounded by a dozen armed Zulu Kings and Voodoo City Queens, their weapons trained steadily on Ricardo and Mateo. The brothers freeze, hands instinctively moving towards their own guns before realizing the futility of the action.

“Sorry, boys,” I drawl, stepping back to join my people. “Change of plans.”

Ricardo’s face contorts with rage. “You lying son of a bitch,” he spits. “You’ll regret this, Reed. My men will-”

“Your men?” I interrupt, unable to keep the smirk off my face. “Oh, you mean the ones back at the warehouse? Yeah, they’re probably having a real bad night right about now.”

Mateo lunges forward, but one of the Heaven’s Rejects steps in, pressing the barrel of his shotgun against Mateo’s chest. “I wouldn’t.”

I turn my attention back to Ricardo, whose eyes are darting around the room, no doubt looking for an escape route. “Here’s how this is going to go down,” I say. “I am going to give you two options. One, the same deal as I laid out at the warehouse. You get the fuck out of Louisianna. No more drugs or using my club to move and manufacture your product.”

Ricardo lets out a harsh laugh. “And why the hell would I do that?”

I step closer, my lips dropping to a menacing smile. “I’m glad you asked. Option two is far better, in my opinion. We feed your corpses to the alligators. I hear those fuckers are real hungry this time of year.

Ricardo’s jaw clenches, his eyes burning with barely contained fury.

“You’re bluffing,” he says, but there’s a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

I shrug, maintaining my calm demeanor. “Maybe. But are you willing to bet your entire empire on that?”

Ricardo and Mateo exchange a look, having one of their silent conversations. The tension in the room is palpable, everyone’s fingers itching on their triggers.

Finally, Ricardo turns back to me, his face stone cold fury. “Fine,” he spits out. “We’ll leave New Orleans. But this isn’t over, Reed. You’ve made a powerful enemy today.”

I lean in close. “Better to be your enemy than your brother, Diaz. I mean, we could ask Alejandro’s opinion on your options, but he’s not really talkative these days.”

Ricardo’s eyes widen slightly, and I know my words have hit their mark. The implication hangs heavy in the air between us.

“You son of a bitch,” he hisses, his composure finally cracking. “What did you do to Alejandro?”

Mateo lunges forward again, rage contorting his features, but Big Mike’s shotgun stops him cold. “Easy there, tiger,” Mike remarks.

I turn to address the room at large. “Alright, let’s wrap this up. Tex and Coffey, escort our guests back to their vehicle. Make sure they leave town without any pit stops.”

Two of my most trusted brothers step forward, their guns trained on Ricardo and Mateo. As they start to lead the Diaz brothers toward the stairs, I call out, “Oh, and Ricardo? Don’t forget our deal. You leave New Orleans for good, or the next time we meet, it won’t be for polite conversation.”

Ricardo’s eyes lock with mine one last time. “This isn’t over, Reed.”

I smile coldly. “For your sake, I hope it is.”

I let out a long breath, feeling the tension drain from my body. The room erupts into cheers and back-slapping, but I hold up a hand, silencing them.

“It’s not over yet,” I warn. “We need to make sure they actually leave town. Stay on their tail until they cross the state lines.”

As my brothers and sisters begin to file out, following my orders with practiced efficiency, I pull out my phone. My thumb hovers over Rem’s name for a moment before I hit call. She picks up on the first ring.

“Rex?” Her voice is taut with panic. “Is it done?”

“It’s done,” I confirm. “The Diaz brothers took the bait. They’re leaving New Orleans as we speak.”

I hear her let out a shaky breath. “Thank God. And Meredith?”

“She’s been dealt with,” I say, my tone hardening. “She won’t be a problem anymore.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line. “You didn’t...”

“No,” I assure her quickly. God, I wish I had the strength to take care of her permanently, but I can’t kill Birdie’s mother, no matter how much I want to do it. I’m not that much of a monster. “But she’s been given a very clear message about what will happen if she ever shows her face in this city again.”

“Good,” Rem says, and I can hear the relief in her voice.

“I’ll be at the hospital as soon as I can, baby.”

“Hurry back to me.”