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CHAPTER EIGHT

NASH

Winding my way along a crowded sidewalk, I aim for the nearest deli while I call Axel.

“All secure?”

“Yes,” I answer. “I have my asset secured. Seven has his.” I pause, shuffling around a street artist selling roses made of sweetgrass. “But I’m calling about Six.”

“What about him?” Axel asks, sounding wary.

“The people trying to bribe him, do you know who they are?”

“We’re working on it.”

“Well, I think I found a lead, maybe a connection.” The line inside the deli is long, but their service is fast. “Can you meet me at the Bonneau mansion in thirty?”

I won’t say “Delta’s,” our location.

His chuckle is low. “And just how do you propose I introduce myself there?”

Axel hides under a pseudonym and an Americanized name, too. All of his brothers do. I’m the only one who doesn’t have to worry about my real name.

“It’s an adult store. Come as a customer,” I smirk at the pun, “or come as you are.”

“That’s dangerous.”

“No, it’s an opportunity to help someone while we help ourselves.”

He pauses, weighing the risks while I order six Shrimp Po’ Boys before I speed this along.

“Listen, we need the room on their third floor, and it sounds like the owner and her husband need our help. Someone is bribing their daughter, and I have a hunch it’s the same one bribing Six. It’s not a risk; it’s business.”

“Not a risk? After last night?” He scolds, “You’ve lost your goddamn mind over Vale Monroe already.”

“I’m in control and won’t lose it,” I growl. “Besides, we know who it was last night. You checked this morning, right?”

I have no doubt Axel has called our moles in the police department and the state department of transportation, too.

“Yes,” he answers. “Daniel Ramirez was found dead, shot at the scene on the Ravenel bridge, but Claude Olan Turner the Fourth survived. He suffered a severe concussion and will be out of the hospital in a week. Maybe less.”

“Fuck, I knew it,” I mutter, paying the cashier.

Claude Olan Turner is fourth in the line of men into some dark crimes in this town. Unfortunately, he’s inherited a fortune, too.

“It’s like the myth.” Axel warns, “Cut off one head; two more shall take its place.”

“But now, there are seven of us and only one of him.”

“Don’t underestimate him.”

“I don’t. See you in twenty.” I hang up, not giving Axel a chance to refuse before I grab our bag to go.

Minutes later, Delta’s staff have turned the front parlor into a lunchroom. Even Blair, Vale’s sullen sister, thanked me for the sandwiches.

“Is providing lunch included in your hourly rate?” Stacey jokes with me, but I can tell she’s been crying.

She sits in her husband’s lap. They struggle to eat their sandwiches, and I understand. Concern for your child will steal your appetite.

“With as much as Ms. Monroe has messed up your books?” I make Vale the butt of a joke. “Lunch is on me.”

It lightens the mood just enough as the bell rings, and Five, I mean … Jace , opens the door.

“Welcome to Delta’s,” he greets the customer looming in the doorway.

“Is the owner here, please?”

“May I tell her who’s inquiring?”

“Yes,” the customer steps inside, towering just an inch short of Jace, “Michael Cummings. I’m a local real estate attorney and I have an offer to discuss with her, please.”

“Uh, hi.” Stacey rises from her husband’s lap. “I’m Stacey James, the owner.”

“Good afternoon, Ms. James.” The customer enters the parlor, extending his hand to shake hers. “Michael Cummings.” He notes our group gathered with sandwich wrappers open on Vale’s desk. “Sorry to interrupt your lunch.”

It takes everything I have not to smirk. I give Axel so much shit for his pseudonym. Cummings. It’s loaded with puns, and yes, I’ve used them.

“It’s okay,” Stacey assures. “How can I help you today?”

But her husband eyes Axel. He’s not buying what Axel is about to sell, but I know Axel will make an offer too sweet to refuse.

“May I speak with you,” Axel nods toward Stacey, then Ford, “and your husband? Right? In private, please?”

“This is my wife’s business. You speak directly to her .” Ford rises. He’s an imposing man. “I, nor our two husbands, tell her how to run it.”

And he’s a proud one, too.

“I respect you and your business, ma’am.” Axel softens his tone, his glacial eyes addressing Stacey before he aims them at Ford. “But this is about family, too. It’s about your daughter.”

“Our daughter?” Ford sneers, whipping his glare around the room. “Who told you?”

Tension is rising, tempers, too, so I stand. “I did.” I address him and Stacey. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t help but overhear your situation before I left, and I have a daughter, too. I’d do anything to protect her, so I took the liberty of calling an associate I knew could help.”

“You did what ?” Vale mutters.

I glance down at her glaring eyes as Ford challenges Axel, “But you’re a land lawyer. I’ve seen your shingle on Meeting Street—Cummings and Associates. How the hell can you help our daughter?”

“Yes, I have a practice, but I have family, too, sir,” Axel answers him. “Please.” He gestures to the stairs. “May we speak privately? I need to protect them, too.”

Skepticism twists Ford’s face, but he nods and agrees. He and Stacey follow Axel upstairs as the rest of us watch.

Once they’re out of earshot, Blair sighs, “Fuck, that man just firehosed my panties.”

“Finally.” Jace chuckles. “She’s alive again.”

“Alive?” Vale hisses, turning to me, “No, I’m gonna kill you for calling that man, Mr. Orgasm of the Eyes Cummings, or whatever. You had no right to do that. You violated Stacey and Ford’s privacy.”

“No.” I lower my voice. “I’m helping them.”

“Helping them how?”

“Details, Ms. Monroe.” I raise my brow at her. “Remember what I told you about those?”