Page 370 of Romeo

That put an entirely different edge on him.

“You ain’t gonna like this,” I said as I turned onto the narrow road leading toward the landing.

His gaze shifted to me. “Probably not.”

“When we get there, you leave Fiona to Rome.”

Something cold moved across his face.

I kept going before he could interrupt. “You see her, you don’t run to her. You don’t grab her. You don’t decide this emergency means she suddenly gotta be ready for you.”

Angel stared at me long enough that I could almost hear him deciding which part of my face he wanted to break first.

“She’s my fucking daughter.”

“I know exactly who she is.” I tightened my hands on the wheel. “And she knows who you are. Ain’t the same thing yet.”

His attention returned to the windshield. “I’m not gonna scare her.”

“That wasn’t a promise.”

“It’s the only thing you’re getting.”

I almost smiled. “Figured.”

We reached the landing a few minutes later. Juju and Braveheart had the first boat in the water before I finished parking, while Worm checked the second and Donut loaded our gear. We weren’t taking the direct channel. Whoever found Romeo might know enough to watch it, and there was no reason to announce ourselves with seven men coming straight up the middle.

I divided us between the two boats. Juju took Worm and Donut through the western cut, where they could circle behind the cabin. Braveheart came with me, Thore, and Angel through a narrower channel that would put us farther south. Nobody questioned the split. My brothers had been running these waters together too long to need a speech.

Angel climbed in behind Thore.

I pointed at him once. “You fall overboard, I’m not turnin’ around.”

“Drive the fucking boat, Crawley.”

“There he is.”

Thore snorted as I pushed us away from the dock.

The farther we went, the less New Orleans existed. Houses disappeared first, then docks, then every sign that anybody had ever decided civilization was a good idea. Cypress trees closed around the channel, their roots rising from black water while Spanish moss shifted overhead in the weak breeze.

We cut the motor well before the cabin.

Braveheart took the paddle without being asked, guiding us the last stretch while I listened.

Romeo was right.

Silence in the bayou was never a good thing.

I’d grown up with those sounds around me. Even when you couldn’t see the wildlife, you heard it. Frogs, insects, birds, fish and gators breaking the surface. The bayou was quiet; it was never fucking silent.

This stretch was.

Thore noticed it too. His eyes moved toward the trees before meeting mine.

Angel leaned forward slightly. “They still here?”

“Somethin’ is.”