by Rayne, Sara
“The truth is usually a good starting place.” Lex folded her arms. “I understand you were trying to save your home, but you lied to me for so long.”
“I did, and I’m sorry.” She bit her lip. “While I intentionally befriended you, it was never a hardship. I genuinely liked you when we met. You and I got through some rough times at college together. All of those moments were real for me.”
Lex thought about the times they’d kept each other awake for all-nighters, printing term papers in sleep-deprived delirium. The week Lex had gotten the flu and Josie had trekked out to the Walmart to get her chicken soup and cough syrup. “You can’t rebuild trust overnight.”
“I understand.” Josie ran a hand through her disheveled curls. “The Priestess told me black magic, like hexes, always come with a cost. I was afraid the cost would be our friendship.”
Lex felt the worry on Josie’s face creeping into her. She looked so scared. “I don’t think our friendship balances on a voodoo curse.”
“Non. She said I’d be lucky if all I lost was a friendship.”
“So, she’s a real optimist, then.” She finished her coffee. Her mind drifted to last night, flashes of memory sending shivers. Despite Voo’s assurances and her body’s response to his wicked touch, she doubted there would be a repeat performance. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have woken up alone.
“Are you okay? Did something happen with Rafe? He and Boone have been gone all morning.” Josie grabbed something from the empty chair beside her and placed it on the table. It was one of Voo’s knives. “One of the landscapers found this on the lawn this morning.”
Lex picked it up. “Oh, this can’t be good. You don’t think they’re dueling at dawn or something crazy?”
“Johnny said he saw them leave together after brunch set-up.”
“Somebody say my name?” The greasy porter came up the steps from the driveway and stood behind Lex.
She twisted in her seat to tell him to back the hell up when cool metal pressed against the back of her neck. A metallic click sounded in her ear. Icy adrenaline flooded her mouth.
“Ms. Cooper will be leavin’ with me now.” Johnny’s voice had lost all geniality. He snatched Voo’s knife before Lex could reach for it. “And I’ll be taking this, too.”
“What the hell?” Josie jumped to her feet. Phee caught her arm as if to pull her back down.
“What are you doing, Johnny?” Lex licked her dry lips.
“Get up, slowly. Put your hands behind your back.” He grabbed her shoulder, urging her along as she climbed to her feet. “My employer requests your presence.”
“You’re one of Apollo’s fuckin’ thugs?” Josie spat. “You’ve worked here for six months!”
“From what I’ve overheard, you’re not one to talk.” He jerked Lex against his body, wrapping an arm around her middle and pressing the gun into her back. “Let’s go.”
Lex kicked her purse toward Josie. “Call my dad.”
Johnny squeezed her until the air left her lungs and she gasped. “That was very stupid. You just got your friend killed.”
He fired two shots into Josie’s stomach.
Crying out, she fell back against Phee, blood blooming between her fingers across her white dress.
“Josie!” Lex wheezed, trying to stomp on Johnny’s foot. She didn’t have enough air to be more than a nuisance. He roughly yanked her arms together and secured her wrists with a zip tie.
“Oh, Jesus, baby.” Phee clutched her niece against her chest, plates and silverware crashing to the floor as she grasped the tablecloth and pressed it against the wounds.
“You can follow us or get her to a hospital. Your choice, but I wouldn’t take too long to decide.” Johnny dragged Lex down the steps into an SUV parked in the cul-de-sac. She whipped her head around, looking for anyone she could call out to. “Give it up, blondie. You’ll only get them killed, too.”
“What the hell is this about?”
Johnny grinned as he shoved her in the vehicle. He climbed into the driver’s side and started the engine.
“I’ve been watchin’ you for a while. Overheard you talkin’ to the biker about Mt. Olympus being his gravestone. Kinda funny—we’re gonna kill him there.”
***
The remaining shell of Mt. Olympus loomed into view. Surrounded by a chain-link fence, Voodoo had to loop around twice to find the opening to the parking lot. Once the building had been a marble-and-glass marvel, a shining monument surrounded by lush gardens and sweeping porches.
Now the vegetation had overtaken the walkways, creeping over banisters and wrapping around benches. Scaffolding surrounded the back of the building, industrial-grade plastic flapping against steel staples in the wind.
Voo climbed off his bike as Boone parked beside him, feeling a twinge of nostalgia. He had learned to ride with Boone on bikes they’d stolen from junkyards.
The drive over had shown the scars Katrina had left, so many years later. The sight of uncompleted construction trying to disguise decay made him angry. He thirsted to see the city healed, the traces of hardship faded.
“She’s a thing of beauty.” Boone leaned back, admiring the Chopper.
“Merci.” He had seen a tarp-covered bike in the Chance’s garage. “You still ride?”
“On occasion. Been a bit busy lately.”
Voo stared up the closed hotel. “Apollo’s been restoring her?”
“Rumor has it. Been bringing in plumbing, boilers, and whatnot.”
So much for my injunctions.
Being here after so long ached like the ghost of a broken bone. He’d stood beside Boone in this very parking lot, dressed in a white chef’s uniform, hours before he had first met Artie. He swallowed hard, unable to keep the memories at bay. How she’d looked standing in the moonlight. The way she’d trembled when he kissed her red-stained lips. His jaw tightened. How blue those same lips had been in the morgue when he’d identified her body.
He’d left town the next day.
“You alright, man?” Boone stood beside him, tilting his head at the building. Voo wondered what memories Boone relived looking up at this place.
“Let’s go.”
Apollo had been dicking them around for two hours with some crap about calling his investor and getting papers drawn up. Voo and Boone had posted up at a coffee cart on the street they used to hustle, swapping stories in an awkward comradery, echoes of a friendship possibly beyond revival. He rubbed his heart tattoo as they stepped through the steel doors into the empty lobby.
Maybe it was time he healed, too.
Apollo stood in the receiving area, light streaming over his shoulder from the showpiece glass wall behind him. Dressed in a pristine suit, hair slicked back, the shark smiled.
“Welcome to Mt. Olympus.”
Voo resisted the urge to spit on the floor. “Let’s get this over with.”
“I hate his ass.” Boone gritted his teeth.
“Not very polite.” They turned to face Byron Beauregard, and Voo cursed. The mobster’s smile widened. “Good to see you again, too, Voodoo. And you must be Mr. Boone Brulé.”
Boone stiffened. “You’re Beauregard?”
“One of them. Byron, in this case. What can I say? My dad loved those ‘B’ names.” He inclined his head. “You look familiar. Have we met?”
“Never seen your face before.”
Beauregard raised a brow. “Must have one of those faces.”
“Reckon so.” Boone’s mouth pressed into a straight line.
“No one told me we invited the snake.” Voo had yet to see a deal with Beauregard go down without someone getting hurt. His presence didn’t bode well.
“You can’t make a deal with the devil if he doesn’t show up. Particularly when he’s in possession of the necessary legal paperwork.” Beauregard smirked, gesturing with his briefcase to Apollo. “You manage to get a desk in this place yet, or are we gonna sign these on the floor?”
The muscles on the
side of Apollo’s neck stood out, but he smiled politely. “Right this way.”
They walked down the hallway to an employee access stairwell. Numbers were spray painted on the concrete walls as they descended to the boiler room on the lowest sublevel.
“You need to work on your front desk placement, Devine.” Beauregard sighed as he reached the bottom. A folding table with three metal chairs sat outside the boiler room. A bottle of scotch sat next to a stack of plastic cups in the middle.
The humidity down there was cloying, sweat beading on Voo’s brow. He exchanged a look with Boone.
“Sorry, but the sublevels took the most damage so we started the renovation here. I like to keep a close eye on my construction crews. Avoid those pesky negligence lawsuits.” Apollo settled in a chair, crossing his leg at the knee. He raised a brow at Voo, as if daring him to bring up his sister’s housing development.
“There’s a change,” Voo snarled.
“As entertaining as your past beef may be, this is business.” Beauregard removed several thick documents from his briefcase and set them on the table with an efficient snap. He tossed two pens on the paperwork. “I have a plane to catch, so let’s keep it movin’. You can reminisce and recriminate later.”
Voo leaned over the table, scanning the contracts—one to transfer Voo’s portion of Mt. Olympus to Apollo, the other erasing the debt owed by the Brulés. Boone’s shoulder brushed his as he inspected them for himself.
“I assure you, gentlemen, everything is in order. I intend to make this hotel very profitable.” Beauregard folded his arms.
Boone straightened. “You sure you want to do this?”
Voo set his jaw. “The Chance is worth it.”
Boone and Apollo signed first.
Voo held the pen in his hand, staring at the signature line. Mt. Olympus had lived in the back of his mind, the deed tucked in a safe beneath his bed. A dream destroyed, but not forgotten. With a silent prayer to any loa still willing to listen, he signed the paper.
Please let this be the right move.
Beauregard snatched the contract from him as if Voo might change his mind and stashed it back in his briefcase. Boone followed suit, stuffing the paper in an inner coat pocket.
It was done.
“This was fun. Let’s never do it again.” Beauregard nodded to Apollo. “I’ll drop these off at the county clerk’s office on my way to the airport. I trust everything here is now under control?”
Apollo straightened his shoulders. “Of course. Pleasure doing business with you.”
The tension between them was palpable. Quite the uneasy partnership. Beauregard strolled out as if he owned the place—which he did. Voo sighed. Too late for regrets.
“Shall we drink to the final dissolution of our relationship?” Apollo tugged the stopper out of the scotch.
The bastard must feel like he’d finally won, and it soured Voo’s stomach. But being rid of this asshole and all the extra baggage was an occasion worthy of a drink. He raised a brow at Boone.
“Why the fuck not?” Boone grabbed the first cup Apollo poured and lifted it in the air. “Thank Bon Dieu I never have to see your sorry ass again.”
“Hear, hear!” Voo snagged the second cup as Apollo glowered. He downed the scotch in one swallow, slapped the cup back down, and headed towards the stairs. Boone followed, but they paused as Apollo stood.
“It’s your fault Artemis died.”
Voo froze.
“You’ve spent all these years being pissed at me for surviving, but without you, she wouldn’t have stayed in New Orleans. She would have evacuated, and our parents would’ve gone with her. They stayed for her, and she stayed for you.”
“Maybe.” Voo doubted Apollo actually loved his sister. He’d lived most of his life in her shadow.
Boone’s eyes flickered between them.
“He wasn’t with her, you know.” Apollo held the bottle as if he’d been distracted before he’d gotten around to pouring his own drink. “When she drowned, he was driving in the middle of some swamp. My sister died alone, and this asshole never had to pay for what he did.”
Voo had opened his mouth to tell Apollo where to stick it when all the blood rushed to his head. The scotch had hit him like a Mack truck.
He swayed, stumbling to his knees.
“Sorry, is top-shelf booze too strong for you gentlemen? You’re probably used to the cheap stuff.”
“You…drugged us?” Boone hit the floor next to him.
“Or you boys can’t hold your liquor.” Apollo stoppered the bottle and set it next to his empty glass.
Voo needed help. He was fading fast, the chemicals burning in his bloodstream. He reached into his pocket, speed-dialing Coyote. He left the line open when voicemail picked up. Maybe the clever hacker would be able to piece together the conversation and send help. He prayed whatever spirits watched over his friend would carry his message.
Boone caught the movement and burst into a coughing fit, drawing Apollo’s attention away.
“You don’t have to worry about this hotel being rebuilt after all.” Apollo leaned over Boone. He plucked the contract they’d just signed from Boone’s pocket and tucked it in his own.
“You bastard,” Boone sputtered, arms bunching in futile aggression.
“Now that I have investors, and I’m fully insured, I’m gonna burn this place to the ground and collect the payout.”
“And if they figure out you’re a fraud?” Voo struggled to stay upright and failed, slumping to the floor.
“Then I’ll blame it all on Byron Beauregard and the Dixie Mafia. He has no idea what’s about to happen, and he’ll take the heat while I’m sipping margaritas in a Mexican villa. People always underestimate me.”
“What the fuck? You’re skipping town?” Voo tried to regain his feet.
Apollo shoved him down. Voo scrambled at his chest, but his arm muscles felt like limp spaghetti.
“You were right. I’m in a bit too deep to the Dixie Mafia. What can I say? The ponies hate me. So I offered them this place to launder their dirty money. By the time they realize I scammed them, I’ll be far out of reach.”
“You really are a stupid son of a bitch.” He coughed, his vision swimming out of focus.
“I’m not the one having trouble getting up off the floor.”
“Don’t you know what’s coming for you if you do this? You want to piss off the Four Horsemen and the Dixie Mafia?”
Apollo pulled out his phone.
“I have another insurance policy.” He shoved the screen in front of Voo’s face. A picture of him and Lex at last night’s party flashed across the screen.
“How?” Voo pushed against the floor, feet sliding from beneath him, too weak to gain purchase.
Apollo knelt to look at Boone. “One of your staff members has been on my payroll for weeks.”
“You smug son of a bitch,” Boone gritted out. “You been spyin’ on us?”
“I keep an eye on my investments.” He straightened and turned back to Voo. “Noticed this little hottie from Texas showed up in town, and you followed right after. This is the one you said was your Prez’s stepsister, right? Well, if he wants her back in one piece, they’ll let me get out of the country unharmed.”
Boone rose to his knees but collapsed again. “Rafe’s right. They’re gonna bury you in a shallow grave where your fellow scavengers can pick your bones clean.”
“I doubt it. But either way, it won’t happen in time to save the two of you. Or her.”
Voo wheezed. “Don’t do this, Apollo.”
His vision darkened as he lost the battle with the drug.
“It’s already done, friend. Your girl’s on her way to us now.”
Chapter Twenty
Voodoo came to as Boone struggled against his back. He scanned the area. The whole scene was fuzzy, his brain struggling to break through the drug’s fog.
They’d been zip tied to the water main running the length of a deep dep
ression designed for drainage in the boiler room. A steel disk covered the drain. Rusted built-in ladder rungs climbed the depression to the mechanical equipment located on a concrete pad.
A metal staircase behind the boilers led to the only exit, a reinforced door on a narrow landing.
“Merde.” Voo groaned.
“You alright, Rafe?” Boone slurred.
“Fuck no.”
“Welcome back.” Apollo stood on the landing, staring down at them.
“Get your hands off me or I’ll kick you in the balls so hard, you’ll be coughin’ them up for a week,” Lex’s voice echoed as the door behind Apollo opened, and Johnny, the porter who’d been giving Voo the stink eye, shoved her against the railing.
Voo jerked against the pipe. The greasy weasel sported a shiny new black eye. Lex had gotten a piece of her captor at least once during her abduction.
Apollo took Lex’s hand. She tried to pull away, and he snatched it back. She froze when Johnny pushed his gun into her back.
Gripping her fingers, Apollo raised them to his lips. “Miss Cooper, we meet again.”
“Get your fuckin’ hands off her!” Voo and Boone shouted in unison.
“Lex, are you alright?” His shoulder was dangerously close to dislocating as he tried to force the zip ties to give.
“He shot Josie.” Lex’s eyes narrowed on the man holding her hand. “You need to let us all go right now.”
Apollo laughed. “Why? Because a big, bad biker gang is gonna come to your rescue?”
“Bet your ass they are.” She lifted her chin. “With a lot of big, bad guns.”
“I’m a gamblin’ man, sweetheart. Born lucky.” He bared his teeth. “Until recently. But my fortunes are on the upswing again, and I’m bettin’ we’re over the border before the club can reach you. If you behave, I may turn you loose, or I can shoot you and leave you in the desert. Think it over.”
“Apollo, I swear to all the spirits who walk the earth, if you hurt her, I’ll end you.” Voo tugged against his restraints but couldn’t break free.
“Tall order from beyond the grave, friend.”
“Death won’t stop me. I’ll crawl from my grave and drag you to the Underworld with my cold, undead hands.” Voodoo meant every word.