Page 12 of Vapor

“Wasn’t disagreeing,” Diablo says, glaring at Bones.

“Didn’t say you were. Just sayin’, we should check it out. Right, Pres?”

“Yeah.” I turn to Fang and repeat my earlier question.“What do you know about Black Snake Bayou?”

“It’s whispered about in old Cajun legends.” Fang lowers his voice like he’s telling a ghost story.“It’s a swamp filled with restless spirits and dark rituals. Echoes of the dead seem to carry across the water through the still, oppressive air. At night, the bayou transforms into a landscape of shadow and dread, where every rustle and splash hints at something watching, waiting in the darkness.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up,” Ice says, laughing.“It’s just a fucking swamp. Sure, it might have some snakes and alligators, and maybe a few Mexican cartel fuckers trafficking girls, but nothing we can’t handle.”

“We need to be on alert tonight.” I skewer each man with a look so they know I mean business.“This could be a setup, or it could be a solid tip.”

“The place could be full of cartel fuckers,” Diablo says.

“Then we bring the big guns,” Tank says, grinning.

“It’s not a joke,” I snap.

“Nah, Pres. Didn’t mean it like that. Just excited to go on a run.” Tank’s smile fades.

“This is your first, but it could be your last. This isn’t playtime anymore. The shit we do is serious. Everyone needs to be watching everyone else’s backs.”

“I know. Just, we do get to bring the big guns though, right?” Tank asks.

“Yeah, yeah,” Ice says.“Load up, and get grenades too. Just in case.”

“There’s no way to get eyes or ears there ahead of time,” Fang says.“There aren’t any cameras to tap into.”

“We’re going in blind, so be ready for anything.”

“Do you think Broussard set this up? What’s your gut saying?” Diablo asks.

“Blue looked terrified when she slipped the note into my hand. She was trembling. Broussard didn’t see it go down, so I doubt he put her up to it. That said, we can’t discount it.”

“Exactly,” Ice says.“The note says midnight, but if we get there a little early, then we can spread out and look around.”

“Let’s ride in an hour. Put on chest-high waterproof waders and boots. Long-sleeved, moisture-wicking shirts to protect against the mosquitos.”

“I hate those fuckers,” Tank grumbles.

“Swamp gear,” Fang nods.“Got it.”

“Anyone got anything to bring up before I end Church?” I ask.

“Nope.”

“Nada.”

“All good, Pres.”

“Then we’re adjourned.” I slam the gavel, ending the meeting.

“Think Tank’s got enough time to let Vicki suck him off before we go?” Fang asks, ribbing the newbie.

“Fuck you,” Tank snaps.

“Looks like she’s got a Hoover for a mouth. She could probably suck his soul right out his body,” Diablo chuckles.

“You guys are such assholes,” Tank says, heading for the door.