Page 5

The drive from New Orleans to Baton Rouge was only about an hour, but since Belle Fleur was another thirty minutes south of New Orleans, it took a bit longer. Miller and Trak loved working together because they had a similar style. They didn’t need to talk excessively, they didn’t put up with bullshit, and they were better with actions than words.

Following required protocol, they’d made an appointment with Ms. Beauchamp, hoping to get in, get out, and be home by dinner.

“Fucking traffic,” growled Miller.

“Mmm,” nodded Trak.

“Never used to be this bad.”

“Katrina,” said Trak flatly. Miller nodded.

It was true. Since Katrina, the population of Baton Rouge had doubled, industry was booming, and it was the new hot spot to live. Thriving nightlife, restaurants, and hotels dotted the entire landscape.

Having the state capitol and two major universities in the city, LSU and Southern, also made it more popular. They loved visiting, but neither wanted to live there.

Parking their car was another pain in the ass. Although there was designated parking for the capital building, as well as street metered parking, it was like finding a golden ticket. Finally giving up, they parked five blocks away and walked the distance.

Entering the massive thirty-four-floor building, they signed into the visitors’ desk, showing the security officer their IDs.

“Fourteenth floor,” he said, nodding toward the elevators.

They stood in front of the elevator bank, waiting for one to open, and smiled at the holes in the marble walls. Almost a hundred years ago, Huey P. Long, a Senator for Louisiana, was shot and killed in this very lobby. The bullets had been entombed in the marble. Once dug out, the decision was made that they would leave the holes as a historic reminder of what happened.

As the elevator doors opened, five men got off with a woman and walked quickly across the lobby. Trak and Miller stepped on and hit the fourteenth-floor button. When they exited, they found themselves on an entire floor dedicated to the ATF.

“Can I help you?” asked a young woman at a reception desk.

“We have an appointment with Ms. Beauchamp,” said Miller.

“Oh, you’re her nine o’clock,” she said sadly. “I’m sorry, she had to run out for an emergency, but she said she’d be back here by one and could see you then if you could come back.”

“Damn,” muttered Miller, looking at Trak. He shrugged his shoulders.

“We’re here. Might as well.”

“Alright,” said Miller. “We’ll be back at one. Thanks.”

Taking the elevator back down, they walked back to their car and sat there a moment before looking at one another.

“Well, we’re here. Let’s go see some things,” said Miller.

Driving along the river, they parked near the LSU campus, walking the beautiful walkways and streets lined with Magnolia and Live Oak trees. There were dozens of coffee shops and restaurants, plus an entire massive enclosure holding a live tiger, Mike, the LSU mascot.

“Don’t tell Mama about this,” frowned Miller. “She’d be pissed and coming up here to get him.” Trak smirked.

“He looks happy and well cared for,” said Trak. “I’m hungry.”

“Me too,” said Miller. He saw a few guys walking toward them from the football stadium and stopped them. “Excuse me, we’re looking for a good place to eat. Anything nearby that you would recommend?”

“It’s not close but a few miles away. Mexican and Cajun fusion. Best shit ever. Sir,” smiled the young man.

“Sounds perfect to me.”

After following the directions given by the young man, they found themselves inside a beautiful, stylish restaurant that smelled like heaven. Mestizo’s was exactly what the kid had described. Mexican food with a Cajun twist.

Crawfish tamales, shrimp and crab queso, crawfish enchiladas, and so much more. They each ordered appetizers, then two entrees, and actually had room for dessert. If they hadn’t been working, they would have indulged in one of the many varieties of margaritas.

“Did you gentlemen enjoy your meal?” asked a man standing beside the table.

“Brother, it was delicious,” said Miller. “I thought my Mama knew every way to cook seafood, but you’ve given me ideas to take home to her.”

“That’s a great compliment, thank you. I’m Jim. I own this place,” he said, shaking their hand.

“Jim. I’m Miller, this is Trak.”

“Well, I hope you’ll come back for dinner when you can enjoy a cocktail. Best margaritas in town, if I say so myself,” he grinned.

“We live in New Orleans but hope we can get back home tonight. Waiting on a meeting at the state capitol with the head of the ATF,” said Miller. Jim’s eyebrows raised, and he nodded.

“I might be able to help y’all,” he grinned. “I have a private room in the back, and it just so happens Ms. Beauchamp and her staff are meeting there now. Something big happened this morning, and they’ve been closed up since. Let me see if she’ll see you now.”

“Brother, that would be amazing,” said Miller. They followed him toward the backroom, where Jim knocked and entered.

“Excuse me, Estella. I have two men who had lunch here who I think you were supposed to meet with this morning. They just happened to be here, so I thought you could kill two birds and not have to rush back to the office.”

“Jim, you always bring me a miracle when I need one,” smiled Estella. “Send them in.” She watched as the two massive men walked into the room. She knew they were with Gray Wolf, and she knew a bit about their history.

“Gentlemen, please have a seat. Jim said you’ve already eaten. Do you need anything?”

“No offense, ma’am, but if I eat one more thing, Trak will have to roll me home to New Orleans,” he smirked. The room laughed, and Miller noticed it was the woman that had gotten off the elevator at the capitol and five men with badges on their jackets.

“We’ll try not to take up a bunch of your time, but we think that we can help you on something,” said Trak.

“Color me intrigued,” she said, sitting back.

“There have been at least two deaths that we’re aware of due to illegal moonshine in our area,” said Miller. Now, she was paying attention. She leaned forward, staring at the two men.

“Go on.”

“One of those men was a dear friend and worked for our family. We want to find the men responsible for this, and we understand that you’re trying to stop this as well.”

“I am,” she ground out. “Cassius Hugo has been a thorn in my side for months now trying to convince officials that legal stills would help the Louisiana economy. Hell, we’re already ranked nineteenth in the nation for alcohol consumption, and that’s a title I do not want.”

“Who is Cassius Hugo?” asked Trak.

“He’s a snake,” said one of the men sitting with her. “He’s been trying to convince men that making moonshine will make them rich. He gives them equipment, rusted, poorly working equipment and a basic recipe and sends them to town. Of course, we can’t prove it’s him doing it. If we could, he’d be arrested. I don’t know what he has on these people, but they won’t say a word about him.”

“Why here? Why now?” asked Miller.

“I wish I knew. We’ve heard him several times at our hearings and have voted it down each time, but like a bad penny, he keeps coming back. You said there were two dead that you knew of, but we know of at least twenty who have died. He keeps saying if we would legalize it, he and his company could provide quality materials to build the stills, thereby avoiding the deaths.”

“We want to find this man and stop him,” said Trak.

“No offense, you both look more than qualified,” said one of the men, “but you’re just two men. He’s got dozens of men working for him.”

“We are more than two hundred men,” said Miller. “We run a security agency, and so do our sons.”

“You’re those guys,” smirked a man. “Shit. You’re the Gray Wolf, and I’m guessing your sons are Voodoo Guardians.”

Trak and Miller said nothing, just staring at the man. He shook his head, almost bowing in admiration.

“I’ll have my team share all the information we have,” said Estella. “I’m not too proud to admit that we need help stopping this maniac. If you can help us, all the better.”

“Can’t thank you enough for seeing us,” said Miller, standing to leave. Jim walked back in with two large bags of food.

“Take this to your Mama,” he smiled. “I’d love to talk recipes with her.”

“Brother, be careful what you wish for.”

CHAPTER SIX

“Is he gonna make it?” asked Irene, standing over her granddaughter’s shoulder.

“Grandma, he’s a thirty-year-old alligator. He’s already beat the odds. But yes, he’s going to make it. He just got nicked by a boat motor somewhere. You’ll be alright, won’t you, sweet boy,” said Lucy, stroking Alvin’s head.

“I’ll never get used to my wife treating an alligator like it’s a chihuahua,” frowned Sniff.

“First of all, he’d be closer to a mastiff or Doberman, not a chihuahua,” grimaced Lucy. “And second, he’s so well-mannered, I’d trust him anywhere. Now, help me lift him down. He can go back to the bayou. He’s okay now.”

Sniff lifted the big gator and gently set him on the floor, watching as he walked out of the clinic as if he owned it. Three of the dogs were seated in the waiting area and just watched him move. Sniff could have sworn they nodded at him, but he wasn’t sure that was possible. Was it?

“How are my other babies doin’?” asked Irene.

“Surprisingly well,” said Lucy. “Claire has been handling the tigers and lions. She says they’re sweet as lambs and just happy to have a safe home. The others are all well-adjusted, although the flamingos and peacocks seem to constantly be vying for attention.”

“Well, your grandpa is expanding the island for them all. Poor dears need more room to roam, and you never know what might be coming.”

“Grandma, you promised Dad that you wouldn’t bring anymore here unless you spoke to him. We already have the equivalent of a small safari park. I know you’re fine with rehabilitating them and sending them home, but we can’t keep doing this,” said Lucy, staring at her grandmother.

“I’m aware of our limits,” said Irene. “But I won’t leave a poor animal out there hurtin’ or needin’ a home. It ain’t right.”

“I agree, Grandma, really, I do. I just think we should be careful about what we bring here. Too many animals could start to draw unwanted attention, and that could shine a light on all of us.”

Irene started to argue with Lucy but knew she was right. She had to be careful about shining a light on her boys. She’d never forgive herself if they were put in harm’s way because of her passion for animals.

“I hear you, child,” she nodded, kissing her cheek. “Now, how are my new pups doing?”

“Why don’t you come and see?” smirked Sniff. He held out his arm for Irene, and they walked toward the massive open-air kennel that held their dogs.

The dogs at Belle Fleur were treated better than many humans. They had heated and air-conditioned enclosures. They were fed the best animal food every day. They were given love and attention by more people than they’d ever seen in their lives. And they were all trained for either protection, security, bombs, drugs, cadavers, or as service dogs.

“Oh goodness. Those don’t look like the sweet hairballs that were left at our gate,” she frowned.

“That’s because they’re not,” he laughed. “We’ve identified them as half-Newfoundland and half-Neapolitan Mastiff. Lucy thinks they’ll grow to be between one hundred and fifty and two hundred pounds, judging by the size of their paws. They’ll be great protectors for the kids here on the property.”

“Have you named them?” she asked with anticipation.

“That always gets left to you,” smiled Sniff, kissing her cheek.

“You’re a good boy. Alright, let’s see here,” she smiled, kneeling in front of the massive pups. “Three boys and one girl. Redwood, Everest, and Tank. And this sweet girl, she’ll be called Beulah.”

“Beulah!” laughed Sniff. “Irene, that’s terrible!”

“Nonsense. I had a Great-aunt Beulah. Lovely woman, although a bit on the hefty side. She was the most nurturing, caring person I knew.”

“Alright,” he chuckled. “Redwood, Everest, Tank, and lord help us, Beulah.”

The damn dogs’ ears actually perked up, staring right at him. Their tongues came out, their tails wagging, and they stormed his legs, knocking him to the ground.

“See, they like the names,” she laughed. Sniff looked up and saw a dark face staring down at him.

“Oh, hey, Trak.”

“Where is Alvin?” he asked.

“He’s fine. Lucy put a few stitches in him, and he’s good as new. Went back to the bayou for a swim.”

“Thank you, Lucy. I was very worried about him.” He started to walk away and then looked back at them, Sniff still lying on the ground with puppies crawling all over him. “Get off the ground. You’re scaring the other animals.”

Sniff could only shake his head at the whole event. If it weren’t for Mama Irene and her penchant for saving every animal on the planet, he might actually be able to enjoy some alone time with his wife. As it were, he was lucky to get feeding time with her at the animal sanctuary. But the truth was, they both loved it.

“Mama?” called Miller. “We had lunch at a pretty interesting restaurant today. The owner sent some food for you and a few recipes.”

“Wasn’t that nice!” she said, smiling at him. “What kind of food?”

“Mexican and Cajun mix,” he grinned. Irene’s eyes grew large, and she smiled.

“I love it!”

“He put his phone number in there if you want to call him. Real nice man. Jim was his name.”

“Thank you, son,” she said, kissing his cheek. Sniff was still lying on the ground with the puppies crawling all over him. Miller looked down at him, shaking his head at the entire scene.

“What are you doing? Get off the ground. The puppies are getting dirty.”

Sniff could only laugh as he got off the ground, brushing the dirt from his trousers.

“It’s alrigh’, baby. The puppies love all your attention.”