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Bobby winced. “I didn’t.”
Corey scowled. “Dammit, Bobby. I needed to know Dewey’s information network. Other than his money, his contacts were the only thing I really wanted from his business.”
“I want that yacht,” Bobby said lightly.
Corey whirled on him, furious. “Be serious for two seconds, B. I told you I wanted a chance at him and now he’s unconscious.”
“Nah,” Bobby said, but he was frowning. “He’s faking it.” He grabbed Dewey’s shoulder and shook him. “Who gave you the intel on Cardozo?”
Dewey didn’t say a word.
“Fucking hell,” Corey snapped. “See if you can wake him up.”
“Can I cut him again?” Bobby asked eagerly, like a giant, deranged puppy.
Corey rolled his eyes. “Maybe later. Let’s wire his balls now. It might be enough to shock him into consciousness.”
“I don’t think that’s going to work,” Ed cautioned.
But Bobby was grinning again, and Corey watched as Bobby administered shock after shock to Dewey, but the man just lolled to one side, never responding. Not even a moan.
“Bobby,” Corey finally snapped. “Stop. He really is unconscious.”
“Fucking bastard.” Bobby’s initial glee morphed further into rage the longer Dewey didn’t respond. It was at times like this that Bobby scared them a little.
“Bobby,” Corey said sharply. “Dammit. We don’t have time for this. You’re supposed to be picking up Zach and Allyson at the boat launch to escort them here for our meeting.”
“I’ll go with him,” Ed said, “if you clean up in here. Bobby made a huge mess.”
Corey sighed. “Fine. Let’s get Dewey out to the water. Bring his fingers and toes. We’ll dump them in along with him. Then you can get our guests.”
“Can I at least shoot the fucker?” Bobby growled.
Corey rubbed at his temples. “Yes, Bobby. That you can do.”
8
Mid-City, New Orleans, Louisiana
TUESDAY, OCTOBER 25, 8:15 P.M.
THAT WAS SO good,” Elijah said with a happy sigh. “Thank you, Patty.”
“Yes, Patty,” Kaj added, proud of his son’s good manners. “The shrimp étouffée was delicious. Thank you so very much.” And not only was it delicious, Val’s friend Patty Hebert had tailored the recipe to Elijah’s dietary requirements. His doctors didn’t advise limiting carbs for kids with type 1 diabetes, but Patty had balanced the meal, loading up on the veggies.
“You helped, Elijah,” Patty said. “You’re quite the sous-chef.”
Kaj was beyond grateful to the co-owner of Le Petit Choux, one of New Orleans’ best restaurants. She’d distracted Elijah from his anxiety over the intruders better than Kaj ever could have. Czar had also helped mute Elijah’s tension, having stuck to the boy like glue.
Kaj, on the other hand, was a mess of roiling fear. He hadn’t told Elijah about the newest threat and he didn’t intend to. The next body we’ll leave you will be that of your son. Burke and Val agreed that Elijah was taking the danger seriously enough without needing to be scared further. His son was happy for the moment and he wasn’t going to jeopardize that.
Elijah’s chest puffed up. “I want to try it myself next time. I think I can do it.”
“I think you can, too,” Patty agreed, then shifted her attention to the front door, her brows furrowed. “Val needs to eat. I’d tell her to sit the heck down, but she wouldn’t listen to me.”
Val hadn’t joined them at the table, instead standing sentry by the front window, not taking her eyes off the street. Burke was on watch in the backyard. Having the two of them keeping such a careful eye was the only reason Kaj had managed to swallow a single bite.
Burke had given Kaj a list of cops that he personally trusted from his days as a detective with the NOPD, and André was working out a protection detail to patrol the neighborhood. The cops hadn’t yet been assigned, though, so it was just Burke and Val until they arrived.
