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I stand back, slowly moving further and further away the more the flames take hold. His muffled moans gargle through Trap’s restricted airways as the intensity of the heat becomes too much.
Turning back, I nod, signaling for us to leave, feeling like a huge weight has been lifted from my shoulders. As I walk past the other row of candles, I kick them over to ensure this entire place goes up in flames. We don’t want any trace left behind. We need this entire facility burned to the ground.
We run, the crackling and popping of the flames burning rapidly behind us. As we hit the bottom floor, I reach out, grab the homeless man, and pull him with us, dragging him out into the tall grass.
He mumbles, “They’ve bombed us. We’re under attack.”
Hoodoo wraps him up in a blanket and places him inside the van. We will drop him off at a shelter on our way home.
Hurricane steps up beside me, slapping me on the back. “We have a guy… Marcel. He’s good at cleanin’ shit up. Give us till tomorrow mornin’ to get rid of anythin’ particularly damnin’ like shell casings, bullets in bodies, shit like that. Let him come take care of anythin’ the Feds might trip you up on before you return to your woman. Just to be safe.”
In reply, I nod my head once.
For now, though, we need to watch this place burn to the ground. And as I stand back watching the last of the Baton Rouge Bachelors incinerate, I now know there is a chance that Makaylie and I can have a normal life.
I never thought it could be possible.
I never thought I would escape the Bachelors.
Once you’re in—you’re in for life.
Unless you bring the entire enterprise to its damn knees.
I never thought I would be that guy.
The one who would end an era.
To break the system.
To do what had to be done.
I don’t know what my future looks like.
I don’t know how I begin to move forward.
But what I do know is that I owe NOLA Defiance my life. And I will spend the night thanking them, but tomorrow, I will return to my girl.
Because the idea of spending another second away from her is too damn much to tolerate.
The Next Day
When I pull up at the apartments, I immediately see the security detail sporadically placed around the building. They don’t know that the threat has been addressed. So I take a deep breath, hop out of the car, and walk for the entry.
The guards act like I shouldn’t be able to see them, but I can. I am trained to spot them from a mile away. They are madly radioing into their comms to let the people upstairs know I am on my way up. I shouldn’t be surprised. I’m not supposed to be here, and in their eyes, I have been AWOL for two weeks.
Hitting the button for the elevator, I step in and tap the button for level seven—Makaylie’s floor. Craning my neck to the side, my stomach is tense. I don’t know what state she will be in when I see her. I don’t know if she will even want to see me after all this.
Especially after what happened to Joey.
Pain ripples through me at the thought. The fact is, I wasn’t there for Makaylie when she needed me.
As the doors to the elevator open, my eyes widen when two semi-automatic rifles are pointed at me. Two FBI agents stand, staring at me as Rodberg moves into position behind them. “Stand down, you idiots. He’s not a threat. Just a fucking pain in my ass.”
The two agents lower their weapons and step to the side, allowing me to exit the elevator. I dip my head at them as I move out to meet Rodberg. He smiles, opening his arms for a hug, and for the first time, I actually accept, pulling him into an all-man, back-slapping bro hug. “It’s good to see you,” I tell him.
He pulls back, looking me up and down. “You look like shit. Smell like shit too. For fuck’s sake, have you showered at all in this past month?”
I shove him with a scowl. “Is Makaylie okay?”
