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“Only a cleanup crew, Ruffin Road behind the track. You can’t miss him.”
“Any idea who he is?” he snarled.
“Not yet. I’ll search the vehicle, but I guarantee you I won’t find anything.” While this type of maneuver wasn’t unheard of, the wealth of the Thibodeaux Empire creating an entirely new set of enemies, there’d been no advance warning of any kind. Zero threats. Although I had to admit my spidey sense had been raised, things going far too well. It had reminded me of the calm before the storm. I hated when I was right.
“Have Daniel scour the streets,” I ordered. Although I doubted using a brigade of soldiers to glean information was going to provide any additional information. At least not yet.
“Will do. Do you want me to loop Arman into what’s going on?”
“I’ll take care of talking to my brother. Just get it cleaned up. I don’t want any issues for the track.” My older brother, the great Kingpin, would be furious. While he wasn’t prone to doing anything rash, now that he had a family, he made certain to take extra precautions, something he’d recommended I do as well.
“You got it, boss.”
After ending the call, I checked the interior of the SUV. As expected, I’d found nothing useful. There wasn’t a scrap of paper, a gum wrapper, or a bottle of water. However, getting the assassin’s DNA or fingerprints wouldn’t matter. Until the responsible person wanted to issue another threat, or purposely make himself known, there would be radio silence.
Just like the old days before my father had retired, the good old days of blood and violence.
Maybe it was time to revisit the legacy methods of doing business prior to another attack.
Before it became too late.
CHAPTER 3
Francois
As I strode into The Vault, the nightclub I’d owned for almost five years, I buttoned my jacket, scanning the massive main dance and party room. The neon shimmering lights accentuated the filled-to-capacity location, the crowd in a spectacular mood. While the club wasn’t excusive, it was tough to get into, my bouncers ex-military men who could sniff out trouble a mile away. They also knew the type of clientele I preferred, even though tourists had become a staple during the last few years.
I preferred those who could leave their daily lives at the door, preferring a night of debauchery and sin where questions weren’t asked, the provocative ethos of the setting providing a location where every fantasy could come true.
The thought provided a smile as I moved through the crowd, men and women parting the ways as I walked through.
Besides, it was Mardi Gras season, the unusually warm and sunny February weather along with the full moon creatingexceptional business activity. There was nothing better than filling the bank account with greenbacks. Laughing, I walked up the stairs, scanning the perimeter as I always did. Since the assassin’s attempt, I’d looked over my shoulder more than once, which surprised me. I shouldn’t be out of practice given the recent attempt on Arman’s life. Maybe the few months had been too quiet.
While security was as tight as it was at my house, I’d tightened it since the incident the day before, taking hours tweaking operations from my end, ensuring that I hadn’t been lax in scrutinizing the financials as well as the top people involved.
While betrayal could occur at any level, especially something of this nature, it either started from the top down or vice versa. Enemies had been known to flaunt hundreds of thousands of dollars at foot soldiers and secretaries, greed trumping loyalty. Or they’d blackmailed one of my upper echelon employees on both the legitimate and more lucrative sides of the business.
Everyone had something to hide, some egregious activity or proclivity that could be used in less than unscrupulous methods. I’d done it myself, enjoying watching people writhe in misery. However, being on the other end wasn’t tolerable.
With Mardi Gras on the horizon, my guests had taken to wearing festive costumes more often, which I’d encouraged up to this point. I enjoyed the wild and crazy days of N’awlins leading up to the festive celebration for years, partaking in my share of scandalous activities while hiding behind a mask. However, tonight I was reminded that anyone could be hiding behind a sparkle of sequins and a touch of feathers.
Still, I refused to allow the recent incident to alter my course of business. It was possible both my security and my resolve were being tested.
I headed to what was considered my table on one of the many upper balconies, a location allowing me to see both entrances, a significant portion of the main party area and the dance floor as well. I often held business meetings there even with the pumping music and flashing lights. As soon as I walked up the stairs, I noticed my brother approaching from the opposite set of stairs, doing the same thing I was, scanning the surroundings.
He’d taken the threat seriously, his best friend and second in command one of the two burly men flanking his side. Maddox was close enough to the family, affectionately called The Wiseguy, that he was allowed a seat at both business and family tables. Rocco was the same, although I’d known the man for fewer years.
I had a team of soldiers both in and outside combing the property, refusing to toss caution to the wind. Only Rocco was by my side, keeping watch like the vulture I’d trained him to be. Arman was only older by two years, but he often chastised me like the big brother he was, teasing me for continuing my playboy ways. The fact he’d recently settled down with the love of his life hadn’t helped in the least. Although I wouldn’t admit it, Raven had already been a fabulous influence on him. I’d never seen the man so happy.
It was past time and well deserved given everything he’d been through in his life. However, I was an entirely different kind of man with zero interest to settle down for years if ever.
“Brother.” He yanked my hand into his, giving me one of his concerned but stern looks.
“At least you don’t look worse for the wear. The Corvette I’m not sure about.” His grin forced me to roll my eyes.
I placed my thumb and three fingers together, kissing them as I’d seen my Italian friend do. “Perfection. I got her up to two hundred miles per hour before Marty almost had a heart attack.” We both sat down at the same time, a waiter bringing our preferred drinks within a few seconds. While both Rocco and Maddox eased beside us, they kept their eyes scanning the crowd.
“You’re going to get yourself killed. Pops had purposely kept it from our mother, you know,” Arman added before wrapping his fingers around his drink. “Marty called me from his hospital bed complaining about you.” He had a grin on his face.
