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The new still was up and running, and they’d found someone to operate the bar until they could find Lydia. The someone, or someones, were the bodyguards that had nothing else to do. Hugo was obsessed with many things, money being number one, fame being number two. But right up there with those two things was always having protection around him.

Hugo was pissed beyond belief that she was missing, but at least they were out of the office and enjoying the warm weather. Of course, there were also bugs, snakes, gators, and the small group of people who didn’t appear to have a full head of teeth between them.

“Did they find her stepfather?” asked Johnny.

“Yep. Dead. He was drinking three jars of this shit a day,” said Manuel, pushing the moonshine jar toward the man at the end of the bar. “We need to find the damn girl, though. She’s the one that has to sign everything over so he can have the land, and if he doesn’t get that land, he’s going to be impossible.”

“Y’all lookin’ for Lydia?” asked the man at the table. His ball cap was pulled low over his eyes, and he was slumped in the makeshift chair.

“Yeah. You know where she is? Bitch hasn’t been working lately, and the boss is upset,” said Johnny.

“That still blew and hurt her real bad. Some boys carried her outta here to a doctor,” said the man.

“Is that right? What boys? What doctor? She wasn’t supposed to go anywhere without our knowing about it. So, what doctor did she go see?”

“None of your fucking business,” said the man, standing from his seat.

He pushed off the ball cap, and the two men stared at him. Easily six-feet-four, maybe taller, with sprinklings of white hair mixed with dark. They weren’t sure why, but they had a feeling this man wasn’t helpless at all.

“What did you say, old man?” asked Manuel. “Do you have any fucking idea who we are? Who Mr. Hugo is?”

“Yes,” growled the voice behind them. “Dead men.”

Manuel and Johnny turned, staring at a dark face, the hissing at their feet forcing them not to move. The alligator looked hungry and angry. Not a good combination.

“You don’t seem to have much to say,” said Antoine, staring at the two men.

“You’ve fucked with the wrong people, mister. That girl owes Mr. Hugo money, and this property will belong to him,” said Manuel, trying to appear strong and unfazed, but the truth was he was pissing his pants.

“I don’t think so,” smirked Antoine. He slapped an envelope against the man’s chest, waiting for him to grab it. “You take that to Mr. Hugo and let him know that Lydia no longer owns this property. It is now the property of Robicheaux Oil and Gas and will be worked by said company. If he sets one foot out here, we will sue and have him arrested for trespassing.”

“That’s if Alvin doesn’t eat him first,” said Trak.

“Oooeee,” said one of the men at the table, laughing. “You done messed with the wrong folks.”

“What does he mean by that?” asked Johnny.

“I mean, ‘dem Robicheaux boys don’t take no shit. Matt-chew, he owns ‘bout half the state now, I ‘spect. If he owns ‘dis land, you outta luck, city boy.” The old man chuckled, standing from the table. The others followed.

“I guess we be lookin’ for another bar, right, Shorty,” laughed another man.

“I ‘spect we will.”

“Wait! Don’t leave,” said Johnny. He started to move, but Alvin gave a very definitive growl and hiss, letting him know that he wasn’t going to move. “What the hell is this? Is that gator gonna eat one of us?”

“He is hungry,” said Trak. “But we need one of you alive to let Hugo know he won’t win this fight.”

“Mister, I’m happy to deliver whatever message you want, but just know that Mr. Hugo wins every fight he’s ever been in. He’s a highly decorated former Marine.” Trak and Antoine both raised their eyebrows.

“Is that so? I find that hard to believe when there is no one by the name of Cassius Hugo in any database. If he were a decorated Marine, that would have shown up. So, whatever your boss has told you is a lie. Or. Or, that’s not his real name.”

The two men stared at one another, doubt filling their features, still afraid to move because of Alvin. Just when they thought they might catch a break, an explosion rocked the swamp, flames licking the sky just as rain began to come down. Miller appeared inside the tiny bar, smiling.

“Nicely done,” said Trak.

“Timed perfectly with the rain. The still is destroyed. So are the ingredients. Now it’s time for you boys to leave.”

“Who the fuck are you guys?” Miller looked at his brother, then at Trak, and finally down at the salivating Alvin.

“We’re justice.”

“We’re justice?” smirked Antoine.

“It sounded good at the time. Alvin must have been very hungry. I was hoping to pin the deed notice and our little love letter to that guy’s sleeve. I had to use his chest.

“He seems to be more aggressive when he knows that men have done bad deeds. He’s much like a good K-9 who can smell evil.” Trak scratched the top of Alvin’s head and then watched as the gator pushed himself out of the boat and into the swamp, swimming alongside them.

“How is Lydia?” asked Antoine.

“She is confused, but she is well.”

“And the stepfather? Did you have anything to do with that?” asked Miller.

“He was a bad man undeserving of life or a daughter. Sometimes, we must take these things into our own hands. I’m older now and have less patience.”

“Less?” scoffed Antoine. “Brother, I’ve known you for fifty years. You’ve never had patience.”

“You’d be surprised at how much patience I actually have,” he said quietly. “She is acclimating to her new surroundings and helping Yarrow as well.”

“Pops said she accepted his offer and will be enrolling in college for the summer semester. I’m thrilled for her. He said there’s enough natural gas on that land to keep her going for a lifetime.”

“That is the hope. Has anyone found Yaz Sumrall?” asked Trak.

“Not yet,” said Miller. “We’re still looking. I knew his father, Yuma. Something about using a ‘Y’ for the first name. I mean, shit, pick an easier letter. His dad was a good man. Worked for the parish in the parks department for years. I just knew Yaz as a kid.”

“Mama said Yarrow showed up at the church scared to death when her father dropped her off. The church ladies knew what to do, though.”

“They always do,” said Trak. “We need to find these other stills. So far, this man has held the land and a child over their heads. He’s using intimidation, bribery, and scare tactics to take the land and force them to run the stills.”

“And we still don’t really know why,” said Antoine. “Ella and Jean ran the numbers. He’s not going to get rich selling moonshine. So what is he doing?”

“Hastening his death.”