“The shipment is missing, boss. Someone broke the lock and took everything.”
“Worm,” I growled.
“On it, boss,” the brainiac brother said, opening his laptop, typing away.
“Juju, call Uncle Sixx and tell him I need him. Donut, you’re up. Go do your thing and take Braveheart with you. You twoget into trouble, feed the gators,” I ordered as my two brothers quickly left.
“You sure about Sixx, boss?” Juju asked. “I ain’t got nuttin’ against your uncle, but he ain’t been right in the head since everything happened.”
“And we are?” I challenged, then growled, “Call him.”
Turning back to Thore, I asked, “Tell me everythin’. Leave nothin’ out.”
“Did exactly as you said, boss. The crates arrived, and I stacked ’em front and center. Made sure the place was locked up real tight. Place had been quiet for days when I got the silent alarm.”
“He’s right, boss,” Worm piped up. “I’ve got it all on camera. Thore did exactly as you said. Whoever took the shipment knew where the cameras were and avoided them.”
I clenched my fists, pacing the wooden floor of the bar as Worm continued tapping furiously on his laptop. The faint glow from the screen illuminated his furrowed brow. Juju returned from the back room, tossing a burner phone onto the counter. “Sixx’s on his way,” he confirmed.
“Good. We can’t afford mistakes this time.” My voice was sharp, cutting through the heavy air of the room. Thore shifted his weight, his eyes darting nervously to the door as if expecting someone to burst through.
The sound of a motorcycle engine roared outside. Moments later, my uncle Sixx strode in, his presence commanding. “How bad is it, boy?” he asked, his tone neutral but laced with an edge that only years of hard decisions could sharpen.
“Bad enough,” I replied, motioning toward Worm, who nodded and brought up the footage on his screen. The scene played out—a shadow, moving with precision, staying just out of view of the cameras. It was a professional job, no doubt about it.
Sixx grunted, his gaze darkening. “Looks like someone’s playin’ games. But they don’ realize they’re playin’ with fire.” His words were calm but carried the weight of menace.
“We don’t have time to waste. Juju, start spreadin’ the word. Let our allies know to keep their eyes open for anythin’ unusual. Uncle Sixx, you’ll take the lead on interrogatin’ our usual suspects. I need results, and I need them yesterday.”
The brothers each nodded, resolute in their tasks. As they dispersed, Worm handed me a piece of paper. “Boss, found something odd. A van parked nearby. It looked out of place, and it’s registered to a shell company. Might be worth looking into.”
I glanced at the address. “Let’s pay a visit,” I said, grabbing my jacket. The night wasn’t over yet.
Chapter Fifteen
The sun was shining as I rolled over to find the other side of the bed empty and cold. Opening one eye, I groaned, then rolled back over when I saw the light on my phone blinking. Reaching for it, I flipped it over and swiped my thumb across the screen to see thirty-seven missed calls.
Rubbing my eyes, I sat up and yawned, just as my stomach gurgled and a wave of nausea washed over me. Covering my mouth, I shot out of bed and hightailed to the bathroom, where I proceeded to spend the next ten minutes on my knees, praying to the porcelain God.
After brushing my teeth and washing my hands and face, I groggily walked out of the bedroom, needing food.
Say what you want, but being pregnant with triplets wasn’t fun.
I was hungry all the damn time.
Hell, I’d even started dreaming of food!
Yawning again, I shuffled to the kitchen, my slippers scuffing along the hardwood floor. The fridge hummed softly, its dooroffering no solace as I stared at its contents. A half-eaten sandwich, some fruit, and a carton of milk greeted me blandly. I grabbed an apple, though my heart longed for something more substantial.
As I took the first bite, I looked at my phone again, scrolling through the missed calls. Wade, Juju, Worm, Donut, Braveheart, Thore—they were relentless. I sighed, getting ready to call Wade back when my nausea kicked into high gear.
And once again, I ran to the nearest bathroom.
By the time I was done puking my guts out, I took my time in the shower, needing a quiet moment of peace, then got myself dressed for the day and left the bar in search of something that I could actually keep down, and that’s when I remembered the small café Wade showed me, not far from The Bourbon Bar.
The morning air hit my face like a gentle waking slap as I stepped outside. The streets of New Orleans were already buzzing, the aroma of chicory coffee wafting from corner cafés and mingling with the faint tang of impending rain. I shrugged my jacket tighter around my shoulders, my mind momentarily lingering on the calls I’d ignored, but the second I smelled food, I forgot about everything and followed my nose.
The café came into view—a quaint little hole-in-the-wall nestled between a florist and an antique shop. The sign above the door swung gently in the breeze, its faded letters reading “Café Fleur.” Stepping inside, the warm scent of buttery croissants and strong coffee greeted me.