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For Liam.
Corey had built the second cabin for himself, with Bobby and Ed’s help. They’d decided that they also needed a location far away from prying eyes, a place where they could plan their dirty jobs. Plus, Corey loved the bayou. It was a good fit. After building the two cabins, they figured a construction business would be a decent cover for their real business. Corey had spent the last few years adding on to his cabin and making it more comfortable than his actual house. He would have lived here all along had it not been for Rick and Jace.
Who might not be a concern after today. It was a liberating thought.
Corey had also built Dewey’s workshop, but for that he’d demanded another piece of land Aaron had inherited from the old Sixth Day leader. It was farther away, near Lake Cataouatche. Corey had drawn the line at building a house for Dewey, so Dewey had built himself the little shack that looked like it would fall down at any moment. As soon as they’d taken care of Dewey, that eyesore would be history.
“Do you think he knows?” Ed asked, breaking the silence. “Aaron, I mean. About our business?”
“No,” Corey said flatly. “If he did, he’d already have given us up to the DA to get a better deal. He’s always seen what he wants to see. He sees our cabin as a fishing getaway.”
Aaron was too arrogant to see that other people were successful all around him. He was about to be taken down a few pegs. Enjoy prison, asshole.
Ed pointed to the older man ambling toward the dock, watching their approach. “And Dewey?”
“If he suspects, he’s never let on. Doesn’t really matter anymore, though.” Corey turned his head, lowering his voice. “After today, he won’t be an issue.”
He cut back on the throttle, guiding the boat against the dock. Aaron’s boat floated beside his, the engine exposed, parts carefully set on the boat’s bench seat.
Dewey moved to the edge of the dock and stared down into Corey’s boat with a frown. “What the fuck, Corey? Is Dianne okay? What’d you do to her?”
Corey sniffed the air cautiously, relieved when he smelled no noxious odors. At least Dewey hadn’t started a new batch of meth. He only smelled motor oil layered over the earthy, slightly fishy scent of the bayou. It seemed that Bobby’s ploy of having Dewey work on Aaron’s boat to keep him occupied had been the wisest course of action.
“She’s blackout drunk again.” Corey jumped onto the dock, then took Dianne from Ed’s arms and started walking toward his quarters. “How’s Aaron’s boat?”
“Almost done,” Dewey said, keeping pace with him while casting worried looks at Dianne’s still form. “Jace’s been helping me. You and I need to talk about sellin’ Aaron’s boat.”
“Bobby mentioned that you think it should be yours.”
Dewey lifted his chin, his scraggly beard unkempt. “Because it should be. With Aaron gone to jail, I’m going to need a way to support myself until I can get another partner. I can either sell the boat or hire someone to run my product into the city usin’ it. Either way, that boat is my due.”
Corey wondered if Dewey knew how much money Aaron had squirreled away. He wondered if Aaron had shared any of it with his partner, but the man always looked homeless, so Corey didn’t think so.
“You could have a point.” Dewey did not have a point, but Corey would let him think so until they’d satisfied Bobby’s concern regarding Dewey’s interest in talking to Rick. Bobby was rarely wrong, but Corey planned to question Rick first. He’d be a far easier nut to crack than Dewey. “Let me set Dianne down and we can talk it through.”
“Okay. How long are you keeping her here?”
“Until the cops stop poking around. Don’t want her saying the wrong thing when she’s drunk. Like now.”
“She never knew about this place, you know,” Dewey said, his tone a little softer. “She never knew what Aaron was doing. She can’t tell what she don’t know.”
“She was too drunk to leave alone,” Corey said, not wanting to discuss Dianne being his alibi. “I’ll take her back once I’ve dealt with Rick and Jace.”
Dewey nodded silently, standing back as Ed unlocked Corey’s front door. Ed took his laptop to the comm room to begin finalizing the plans for the Trevor Doyle/Bella Butler job. Corey didn’t worry about his younger brothers seeing Ed work. Rick wouldn’t be able to say a thing to anyone after today and Jace couldn’t read.
Dianne was growing heavy in his arms, so Corey looked at Dewey over his shoulder. “Stay there. We’ll discuss your boat now that Aaron’s out of the picture.”
Corey had briefly considered a partnership with Dewey, now that Aaron was gone. For maybe a minute and a half. There was a lot of money at stake, for sure. But drug dealing was a complicated business that required constant monitoring to keep product flowing and dealers from stealing one blind. His own dirty-jobs business was based on a one-and-done model. They signed a client, did the job, got paid, and then went on to the next client, whose job would likely be completely different.
Corey liked his business the way that it was. He’d built it from nothing, and he was on the cusp of something big. It was the only thing he’d ever been successful with. His other endeavors had never gone to plan.
He wasn’t a born schmoozer like Aaron was. He’d only known construction before he enlisted. Then he’d been in the army for eight years and would have made it his career had they not given him a fuckin’ ODPMC discharge. Pompous assholes.
But he’d learned a lot from the army. He knew how to kill. So that was what he did now, for a helluva lot more money than he’d made as a soldier.
No way would he have the patience to deal with selling drugs to rich people, with their simpering and whining. I’d probably shoot them all, just to shut them up. Dewey’s business simply wasn’t worth it, no matter how much more money he could make.
Corey deposited Dianne on his neatly made bed—a habit drilled into his head from his first days in boot camp. Straightening, he stretched his back and bit back a groan.
