Page 359 of Romeo

I stared at the papers scattered across the motel table. Ten minutes ago, they had been everything I possessed that might lead me to my daughter.

Now I knew her name.

And I knew her fucking husband.

And if Romeo wanted to disappear, I knew exactly which motherfucker would know where he went.

“I know where to get that fucking information.”

“Angel, don’t you fucking⁠—”

I hung up on my president before he could finish.

I had a motherfucking Cajun to find.

The Bourbon Bar looked almost exactly the way I remembered it when I pulled my bike to the curb. New Orleans had changed around it because New Orleans was always fucking changing, but Gator’s place still sat there like it owned the street. I killed the engine, swung off the bike, and stared at the doors for a moment while the heat from the ride crawled beneath my cut.

I had spent the entire trip telling myself I only needed information.

That had been a fucking lie.

I needed to see her.

Maybe not talk to her. Maybe not touch her. I knew she had asked for time, and I understood what that meant. I just wasn’t sure understanding it was going to be enough to put my ass back on a motorcycle and ride away when my daughter was finally somewhere within reach.

The door opened before I reached it, and Juju stepped outside. His eyes moved from my face to my cut then back again before recognition came instantly.

“Well, shit.”

“Gator here?”

Juju glanced over his shoulder. “Boss.”

I walked past him before he could decide whether he planned to stop me. The place was closed to the public, chairs still sitting upside down on a few tables while all six Bourbon Kings occupied different parts of the room. Donut sat at the bar with a plate in front of him. Worm had a laptop open two stools away. Braveheart leaned against the far wall, and Thore was doing something behind the bar.

Gator stood near the end of the counter.

The second he saw me, his expression changed.

Not surprise.

Not confusion.

Recognition.

That was all the confirmation I needed.

He slowly set down the glass in his hand. “Aw, hell. Whatever brought your ugly ass through my door, turn around and take it back outside.”

I stopped several feet away. “Interesting. I ain’t asked you a fucking question yet.”

“Don’t have to.” Gator scratched his beard and looked me over. “You got that Angel-of-Death look goin’ on, and I just got this place the way I like it. Ain’t lettin’ you bleed all over my floor.”

Juju came in behind me and locked the door. The quiet shift inside the room told me every Bourbon King had stopped whatever he was doing, but my eyes stayed on their president.

“Where is my daughter?”

Gator sighed. “Knew there was gonna be foolishness.”