Page 53 of Knife in the Back (New Orleans #4)

Burke tried to smile again with the same forced result. “No problem. I have more.”

“I know,” André said wryly, then stood, offering his hand to Burke first, then to Naomi. “Do you need to get checked out? The ER’s right there.”

Burke shook his head. “No. I just want to get Naomi home. Where it’s safe.”

“Then let’s go home,” Val said, and then she flinched. “Oh, Naomi. Your hands.”

Naomi studied her palms. They were scraped bloody. “I’ll live. Get us home and I’ll get my mom to clean and bandage me up. She was a nurse, you know,” she added to Burke, because he was staring at her hands, guilt all over his face.

“You saved my life,” she told him. “This is nothing. I had blisters you wouldn’t believe working the farm in prison.” She slid her arm through his and tugged him toward the SUV. “Let’s go.”

“Call me if anyone else shoots at you,” André said, walking with them.

“Not funny,” Burke snapped.

“I wasn’t trying to be,” André said. “Burke, you need to take a breath. Naomi is in one piece. You and Val are in one piece. You caught one of the bad guys. I’ll need signed statements from all of you, but I’ll come by for those later. Go home and relax.”

Yeah, right , Naomi thought. Like that’s gonna happen.

—

The Central Business District, New Orleans, Louisiana

Wednesday, February 26, 3:40 p.m.

He scowled as Gaffney’s cell continued to ring. It would go to voicemail in another—

“What?” Gaffney answered impatiently. “I’m busy.”

The man was about to be considerably less busy. Forever. “Where are you?”

“At the warehouse. Why?” Gaffney added suspiciously.

“Because Elaine was arrested, and I’m going to need your help. Stay where you are. I’ll be right over.” He ended the call, then hesitated over his next move. Well, more like how best to accomplish the next move.

Elaine had been arrested, but he did not need Gaffney’s help. Gaffney was compromised. He’d heard it over the call that Elaine had left open when she’d gone after Broussard and Cranston.

I should have told her to wait. Stanley wouldn’t have missed.

And now Elaine was in custody. She wouldn’t talk. Killing Cresswell had put the fear of God into his people. Elaine knew what happened to traitors. Plus, he’d have her taken care of before she’d left the holding cell.

Unlike Cresswell, Elaine had no family and no close friends. There was no one he could threaten to keep Elaine’s mouth closed forever, and replacing her would be difficult. Still, he’d have to find a way.

If he continued this new business, which was becoming less profitable by the day.

They’d lost four girls during Super Bowl weekend.

Two had been beaten so badly by their customers that they’d died the same day.

Their bodies had been taken out to the bayou and dumped in a swamp that he knew well, having spent several enjoyable vacations and holidays there.

Gators made cleanup a breeze.

The two they’d lost in the Delgados’ house fire had already been on death’s door. That the cops had their bodies wasn’t ideal, but not a catastrophe.

The two who’d lived were problems, however. Pablo had sworn that Susan was dead when he’d left her in that motel room to chase after the fourteen-year-old who’d slashed her john’s face, but Susan had been found before he got back—and she’d survived.

The fourteen-year-old was back home in Baton Rouge now and he couldn’t get anyone close enough to deal with her. He’d tried.

He’d expected to lose a few teenagers over the month. What he hadn’t expected was having to eliminate his staff.

Winnifred was never going to last past next week, anyway. The moment that she’d shown up at the same restaurant where he’d taken his wife for lunch, she’d reached her expiration date.

The Delgado brothers were a bigger loss. They’d been very good at their jobs. Until they’d fucked up. And until Ernesto had gotten greedy.

“No children” had been the number one rule from the get-go. Kids under twelve would not be used in their business. Not even one. That Ernesto had broken that rule—and had wanted to keep the child for himself?

He’d deserved to die.

But Elaine’s arrest was not as bad as the potential arrest of John Gaffney. The bastard would sing like a bird to protect himself.

So his song would have to be silenced.

The question was, who to do it? Stanley was a better shot, but Gaffney was in the warehouse, so it wasn’t like he needed a sniper for the job.

He hit Stanley’s name in his contact list. The man answered on the first ring because he wasn’t an arrogant prick like Gaffney.

“Sir? I’m almost to the hospital.”

“Too late. Elaine shot, failed, and got arrested.”

An exasperated sigh. “Dammit. How do you want to manage this?”

“Have our guard at the holding cell in the jail serve her a meal or give her some water. Same as Cresswell.”

“That might be difficult. There are more cameras in the holding area.”

“Then figure out a better way,” he snapped, then got hold of himself.

“Apologies. Elaine is not the biggest problem. I told her to call me before she went into the parking garage so that I could send backup if required, so I was listening to everything. Broussard shot her in the arm. One of his people took Elaine down after that and was generously chatty. Told Elaine that Susan Snyder had ID’d her as her old social worker. ”

“Dammit.”

“Yeah, well, it gets better. When Elaine said nothing, the Sorensen woman told her that Susan had heard one of our people call Gaffney by name. Tried to get Elaine to talk to her, to tell her who Romeo was.”

And for that alone, he was glad Freddie was dead.

“Freddie was a fucking idiot,” Stanley growled. “I don’t know how many times I told her to stop using our names.”

“Well, you took care of her. The question is how best to take care of Gaffney. He’s at the warehouse now and is supposed to be there until midnight.” It had been the Delgado brothers’ shift, but with Freddie and the Delgados dead, they were having to double up on their duties.

“I know. I’m on duty with him. I’ll go back to the warehouse now. It’ll take me a while to get there, though. They’re starting to close roads on the parade route.”

“I’ll head down there, too.”

“But…you don’t care for the dark side, sir.”

He did not usually like murder, that was true. But…“Even I have fantasies.”

Stanley chucked. “Understood.”

“But seriously, we need to be sure that he doesn’t have a confession somewhere that’ll come back to bite us in the ass. We need to figure that out before we take care of him.”

“I’ll take him to the panic room when I get there.”

The room that they’d soundproofed. Because sometimes their inventory screamed.

“Perfect. I’ll see you there.”

—

The Quarter, New Orleans, Louisiana

Wednesday, February 26, 5:10 p.m.

Naomi knew that Burke was pacing outside the door she shared with her mother. She could hear the floorboards creak with his every step as Ruthanne cleaned and bandaged her skinned palms and knees.

“Burke’s upset,” Ruthanne murmured as she applied the last bandage.

Naomi studied her hands. “I look like I’m wearing oven mitts.”

Her mother raised a brow.

Naomi sighed. “Yes, Mom, Burke’s upset. I’m not sure why today was different from last night. He didn’t seem so upset when Winnifred Timms was murdered right in front of our eyes. We got shot at last night, too.”

“Maybe he’s more emotionally invested today than he was yesterday.” Her mother handed her phone to Naomi, who could only blink at the photograph on the screen.

“What the hell is this?”

“Looks like you and Burke kissing,” Ruthanne said with mild amusement.

It had been taken while she and Burke were sitting in front of the Cresswells’ house. Which had been surrounded by the press.

Well, it was what it was.

Their first kiss was making the rounds online, accompanied by the caption Former NOPD turned PI “working” with disgraced cop .

“Do you regret it?” Ruthanne asked, sounding genuinely curious.

“No. Not even a little bit. I…really like him, Mom. I haven’t felt like this for a long time.”

“Well, if the feeling is mutual, that could explain why he’s so upset right now. Last night you were a client. Today you’re…more.”

Naomi wanted to hide her face. She must have looked like a tomato.

That the pacing outside her door had stopped made things worse. Burke had stopped stock-still when her mother had mentioned the online photo.

Naomi rolled her eyes. “Of course he has ears like a bat.”

Ruthanne smiled. “If this is the start of something, I’m so glad for you. Even if it doesn’t go anywhere, it’s nice to feel appreciated. As a woman.”

“Like James appreciates you?”

“He does.” Then she sighed. “The worst day of my life was when you were sentenced. If I could go back and change that, I would, even if it cost me everything. But it’s also how James and I grew closer.”

“I’m glad for you, Mom. I’ve always loved James. I wish he’d used a little more discipline with Jimmy when he was growing up, but that may be simplistic. Jimmy could just be bad.”

Ruthanne scowled. “Jimmy is just bad.”

Naomi cocked her head. The floorboards began to creak again. Burke was on the move. She’d have to put him out of his misery soon and let him in. But she needed this time with her mother and hoped he understood.

“I won’t argue with you there.” Jimmy’s role in her trial had been weighing on her mind.

Had he merely been bribed to do something he would have done anyway—lie about her in court—or had he had a hand in the frame-up?

Hopefully they’d find out. Hopefully Everett wouldn’t be hurt in the fallout of whatever they discovered.

“But on the shooting, I think Burke was more upset today because the bullets came a lot closer.” She thought about the bullet that had come within an inch of her head. “A lot closer.”

Ruthanne closed her eyes. “That terrifies me, Naomi.”

“Well, I’m not terribly happy about it, either.”