“That’s right, girly,” Blackwater said. “I got your number. I’m sick of this cat and mouse game. Your mother and me did good business together. She made the money, I kept the law off her back. If you’re going to use your mother’s tricks then you are going to play the game the way she did. We are either together or I will bury you so deep in the system that you’ll never find your way out. Then, while you’re rotting away, convicted of every false crime I tack on to you, I will partner with the next bitch that runs this outlaw organization and become a rich man.”
Blackwater looked over his shoulder at the cop car that was creeping closer, doing its best to see through the rain.
When he looked back to Reveca a sick, accomplished grin was on his face. “One of those pills goes for three hundred dollars on the street. It’s rumored the price will only go up now that supply cannot meet the demand. You tell me, Miss Beauregard, do you want to be rich and free, or do want to rot. Or even worse…do you want to meet your mother’s fate? She got in over her head, and apparently you are far past that point.”
Reveca let the threat linger for a moment. She wanted Blackwater to enjoy his last minutes of triumph before she ripped it away, before she forced the man to live out his meaningless days of life wrapped in paranoia.
“You’re right, Blackwater. Like mother like daughter.”
A grin full of greed spread across his face.
“My mother liked to cover her tracks, liked to make sure that she was always protected.”
“Clearly she sucked at that,” Blackwater said with a sneer.
“Well, she was shot in a back alley, only a block away from your home, but that is not my point. My point is that she protected her home. That if she had died here, inside or out, there would have never been a question as to who the sick bastard was.”
The grin on Blackwater’s face started to fade. His beady stare moved rapidly across Reveca.
“You going to ask me why?” Reveca asked.
When Blackwater didn’t say a word Reveca glanced up at Talon. “Babe, show him.”
Talon let go of Reveca, kept his glare on Blackwater as his long arm reached for the porch light that was just above. He spun the bulb until a wire fell down, one with a blinking red light at the end of it.
“Smile for the camera, Blackwater,” Reveca said with a calm smile. “This is one of over a hundred, all equipped with sound.” She stepped closer to him. “You arrest me for tampering with evidence and one of my boys will show up with the footage of the field. They will show all your lawmen buddies how your old ass was attacked by wild crows. Hell, they might even leak it onto YouTube just to ensure that your humiliation, as a poor excuse for a lawman, goes viral. Well known.”
Reveca nodded to the police car that was waiting on Blackwater. “Maybe, just maybe, they’d feel inclined to share your recorded threats with your lawmen. No, they wouldn’t, because there is no telling how many of them are just as dirty as you. I bet you never let the good ones, the ones that really want to serve and protect, hold any rank, have any clout. Nope, they’re going to have to wait for you to die before they get their shot, and chances are when you do die they will have figured out being corrupt is the only way to make it to the top…” Reveca pulled in a deep breath. “No, they would not give that evidence to the lawmen. Maybe the DA, the governor…so hard to know just who to trust. Might be better to broadcast it on every media outlet there is, start an online social media war—one that will have all bikers looking like saints. One that will make your meaningless raids impossible because each time you look our way some reporter looking for a solid byline will be so far up your ass that walking is impossible.”
Reveca tilted her head. “Or…you can go tell your boss that an alligator took a bag of evidence and a crow took your little baggie of expired aspirin. Tell him shit like that happens when you raid swamp property. He’ll laugh, you’ll get some shit, but you’ll have a job, you’ll have some pride left over—be a free man.”
“And what happens to that footage of yours if I do?” Blackwater said glancing up.
“That stays with me. It stays nice and safe—just as long as you answer my questions when I ask, let me know of any and all developments within your department that I might find interesting.”
“You bitch. How do I know that camera even records?”
“Do you want me to email you a copy? Business or personal account?”
Blackwater’s glare was only broken by a violent crash of thunder which made him flinch.
“It’s getting bad out. You might want to find shelter,” Reveca said. She raised her chin slightly as he started to turn. “Blackwater.” He turned. “You miss Mom yet? Is this how it worked with you and her? She held something over your head and you danced like a puppet?”
He didn’t answer. Instead he jogged to the car that was waiting for him.
She let herself smile then, loved how the tables had turned. Back in the day, she had mercy on Blackwater. A young cop just wanting to give his family a little more than he had growing up. She was fine with paying him, fine with him thinking he was the big man in charge. But then he became arrogant, too boastful. He had no gratitude. Therefore, this time around they were going to play the game this way. He wasn’t going to get shit from her, but he damn sure was going to dance.
“Have Knight send that footage to him just so he knows that was not an empty threat. Put a virus with it, have it disintegrate the second he watches the full length.”
Talon smirked. “Now she listens to me.”
Talon had told her long ago to throw that threat at Blackwater. This wasn’t the first time he had pushed Reveca to let him in, but it was the first time he was that bold and clear cut about it.
“Had to save that for something good.”
“Sexy, dangerous, and smart. You’re a triple threat,” Talon said as he urged her to go in.
Reveca charged through the bottom floor of the house all the way back to the kitchen. Right as she got there Echo and Thames were walking in the back door, both soaked, both stripping out of their uniforms as if it were a disgrace they had to get off their backs.
Echo nodded to Reveca to tell her their part was good. He’d stripped down to just the slacks now, and clearly wanted a drink before he found his way back into his jeans and kut.
He opened the fridge, pulled out a long neck, popped the cap and downed half of it before grabbing two more and taking one to Thames who was sitting on the island in the center of the kitchen, shirtless with his belt undone.
They were exhausted. Shifting, staying in that image and not changing took a lot of mind power. The adrenaline always helped them through whatever fight they were engaged in, but when it was over, they had to settle for a minute, take the edge off.
Judge came in and nodded at Reveca, letting her know her boat, her guards, and passenger were ready when she was.
Reveca pushed open the window behind the table. A gust of wind blew through, moist with the unforgiving rain.
She went through the cabinets and found a justifiable trade, a few slices of bread. As she was making her way back to the window three crows landed there and stared in, twisting their heads rapidly to take in the view. The one in the center had Reveca’s prize.
Reveca fed the one on the right, let her hand run down his saturated feathers, then did the same to the one the left. Those two flew away. Reveca had saved two slices of bread for the center one. She held out both of her hands one with bread and one ready for the exchange.
The crow moved side to side in pure excitement. It dropped the bag in Reveca’s hand before taking the bread from her other.
Reveca cupped the bag, shoved it in her pocket and gave her feathered friend a nice long pets as he devoured his bread then went for the second slice. Once he was done the crow squawked so loud that Reveca almost flinched. His task service completed, he flew away into the night.
Reveca closed the window and turned to the boys. She slowly pulled out the
bag, let her nail run across the near flat pill before tossing it on the counter.
“What is that?” Echo asked before he downed the last of his second beer. His eyes were nice and glassy. He was coming out of his shift as smooth as glass, just the way he wanted to.
“Black,” Talon said as he made his way to the counter and picked it up. “Three hundred dollars a pill, and apparently our friend Holden was a user.”
“I never saw him use any enhanced strength,” Reveca said. “The night I took him down it was simplistic. I would have noticed if his old ass was stronger than he should have been.”
“What does that have to do with anything?” Echo asked.
“It enhances you,” Talon said. “Supposed to make you feel invincible and apparently gives you added strength.”
“That?” Thames said. “Looks like an expired tic-tac to me.”
“I bet it dissolves,” Talon said looking at it closer. “Goes right into your system.”
“Can you get one of the clinic docs to look at it?” Reveca asked.
“Yeah, in a few days. We gotta lay low for a minute. Let this raid settle.”
When Reveca looked down he reached for her. “Just give me a few more nights then we’ll take care of Gaither.”
She nodded once. “Get Knight right on that footage.” She glanced to Thames and Echo. “You guys did great tonight.”
They both grinned.
She went to her cupboard, which would look like a king’s ransom in spices to anyone from the outside world, and pulled a few out, grabbed a glass of hot water and spun her concoction together. As she made her way to the back door she set it down in front of Judge. “How bad is the headache?”
He grinned boyishly. “Not bad now. I was just looking too deep into too many. As soon as I figured out who was in charge it was easier.”
“That will fend off the pain.” She glanced back to the kitchen. “You boys might want to make our guests feel comfortable, get some good music going, drinks flowing. Let them all see this as a victory. We need to wash out the bad energy this started.”
She met Talon’s dark stare. “We’ll try to be back before dawn.”
“Stay in the river, eh? I don’t want Crass to get excited when he sees you and think we have something we don’t.”
That was a risk, but Reveca was hoping it was a minimal one. Time was something that only the living acknowledged. She was hoping that to Crass it would feel as if she just left him.
Reveca nodded then pushed her way outside. She used her energy as an invisible umbrella and casually walked through the fierce sheets of rain that no one could see through on this pitch-black night.
It wasn’t a short walk by any means; the river was nearly a mile from her back door.
Not long into her walk she felt that hum that had become a constant in her life heat up, felt it blanket over her as if it wanted to further protect her from this grueling night. She glanced over her shoulder. On the back porch, on the third level, she saw King.
As usual he was stoically calm. His eyes, those blue orbs which were so clear that they nearly pierced through the night like the beam from a lighthouse, landed on hers. He gave one nod when he read the question in her eyes, silently told her Gwinn was safe and sound now. Calm.
Reveca drew in a deep breath, took in his image, let herself drift back to a time when she was his, when he was hers. Doing that seemed to settle her erratic thoughts. It calmed that twist in her gut. She couldn’t think past that though, couldn’t figure out how to bring him to her present…or even if she wanted to. That would invite too much hell she couldn’t deal with right then.
She’d have her conversation with him. Even if it shredded her into a million pieces, they were going to have a talk as soon as she returned.
She turned without an expression and continued on her path. Somehow she allowed herself to feel at ease. She now had Blackwater as a puppet. That would only help her with the mortal side of this drama, but it was something.
Zale, he was an issue, which brought up too much tension, but he had far too much respect or fear for Jamison to cause too many waves.
This drug, and the asses behind it, the Sons would catch up with them. Having a sample was step one. They could figure out how it was made, then where, then who was behind it. Step by step this mystery would unfold and those that decided to stir the pot of peace, and rain down hell on all the little mortals would be dealt with. Served up on a platter to Crass; hell, Reveca might even put a bow on them for nothing more than kicks and giggles.
Once she reached the large fishing boat she saw Thrash at the wheel. Shade and Cashton were lifting buckets onto the back of it, buckets full of the payment the gators would get if they brought Reveca the prize they had claimed before.
Reveca boarded, let her energy fall from around her, not needing the umbrella of it now that she was under the roof of the boat. Plastic sheets were on each side blocking most of the rain, what did make it in felt refreshing.
“Ready?” Thrash asked from the helm.
Reveca nodded as she settled on the cushioned bench. Shade untied the boat and made his way to Thames. He had been avoiding Reveca. That was her fault, though. When she had spoken to him over the past few days she’d asked him about how he died, which he couldn’t remember. Judge had spent far too much time in that boy’s head trying to figure that out years back when Shade arrived, a gift from Evanthe. It was all blacked out. Shade had no clue where he came from.
Reveca was doing her best to get him to remember if he knew of any similarities in his path and Gwinn’s, even something as simple as being adopted. He’d nearly growl and would tell Reveca he had no idea why that girl made his insides hum, then storm away, pull some easy girl into a small space and try to fuck his way to a clear head. He always looked worse for the wear when he’d come out of those small spaces. Some glazed-eyed girl humming with satisfaction would stumble out, and he’d come out looking like he wanted to either murder someone or puke, one of the two.
Reveca had even asked Talon to talk to him, tell him to find some other release that wouldn’t fill him with as much grief. Talon just shook his head, grinned. Told Reveca that Shade was the type of guy to do exactly the opposite of what he was told when it came to his own affairs.
Cashton sat down next Reveca, even extended his arm around her. He was solemn, but he normally was on his trips back to the Veil. That always brought an ache to Reveca in the past, even tonight, not knowing if she had given him some misplaced trust didn’t falter Reveca’s dread of taking him back to the prison of death.
Silence lingered for the first while; the noise of the rain was too loud to speak over anyway.
About ten minutes in, Shade made his way to the back of the boat. Cashton stood to help him. Reveca wasn’t far behind them.
Shade shined the lights on the black water. They could see nothing.
Reveca calmed herself, took in a breath and sent that same request she had used before, a call to nature.
A moment or two passed before they saw the air bubbles that were nearly completely masked by the downpour.
Cashton tipped over one bucket. The prize—whole, ready-to-cook chickens—fell into the water. They barely had a chance to splash before one of the gators emerged.
When a second gator rose, the bag followed him. Shade carefully used a long pole to unhook the strap from the gator’s massive teeth. When he had it Cashton dumped the next bucket into the water.
The second Shade pulled the soaked bag on board, Cashton dropped the last of the buckets in.
The gators stopped their pursuit and devoured their prize. Reveca stared in their direction, letting that gratitude linger in her energy. When she saw them thrash then dive she grinned and turned back to face the boat.
Shade was going through the bag. Its contents were ruined, but it was indeed repackaged scripts. When he dug a little deeper he pulled out a handful of little clear bags that looked like they had drops of black mud in t
hem.
Way more than a sample of the drug Black.
Reveca felt anger swell in her, but pushed it aside. She’d deal with it when she got back. She had no doubt the Sons were capable of retracing what Holden had been up to.
With this bag, they now knew exactly who had worked on these scripts. Each person was required to stamp the product they touched. That was the Sons’ insurance policy. They always had their fingers on the pulse of their business.
Shade ran his thumb over one of the bags, then turned it. What he saw there caused rage to slide over his body as every muscle tensed.
Horns.
The drug Black was labeled with horns.
The Sons dealt with scripts. Their mark was the clean professional result. The drugs they pulled from the streets, from those gangs, they liked to mark their inventory, liked for their customers to know who to approach for more.
“Devil’s Den,” Shade seethed.
Shade was a first generation vampire, but he didn’t feed off of blood, he fed off energy. He told the others every emotion had a different taste, satisfied you in a different way. He hated the taste of fear which was exactly the emotion the Devil’s Den produced in their territory. He hated it because when he consumed it, he saw exactly what they did to draw forth that emotion. Scenes of the agony that gang brought to the streets would flash through his mind as he inhaled, as he sucked the very life force out of his victims.
Unlike what the storybooks had led generations to believe, Shade didn’t have to have that nourishment on the regular. He didn’t even really crave it, and he didn’t have to take a life to feed. But he did when it came to the Devil’s Den. It was an easy death to cover up, looked like an overdose, a reaction to the drugs that were already in the system of his victims.
The last war with the Devil’s Den had messed with Shade. He was the main enforcer in that situation, the only one that could kill that way swiftly, the only one that would not leave any connection to the Sons. That war, seeing all he saw, it brought fierceness to Shade’s baby face, made him harder.