Page 34 of Redemption
With a tug at his golden locks, he begins, “There is a new player in town. His name is Kostegov. I don’t know exactly which Eastern European hellhole he climbed out of, but he’s a piece of work. He’s declared himself the new King of New Orleans.”
Instantly, I catalog the name. It doesn’t ring any bells. Fuck. How do I not know it? Am I that out of touch with the threats against me?
“That’s awfully bold for someone new to town,” is all I say in reply.
“I’d never heard of him before. It was the Russians who told me. They have a taste for fine art. We were sharing a bottle of vodka, nearing the end of it, when his name came up. I thought it was bold as well—at least until they told me who is backing him. A name I know you’ve heard before. A palm I would guess you’ve greased before as well.”
“And who’s dumb enough to bite the hand who feeds him?” My mind shifts into high gear.
I’ve greased a lot of palms in my day. Criminals, civilians, dirty law enforcement, politicians, and officials at every level. His description doesn’t narrow it down for me.
“John Pierre DuFort.”
The chills I felt earlier skate across every inch of my skin. “The Fed or the father?”
“Both, as I understand it.”
It takes everything I have to control my emotions and my expression so that I show no reaction to Leo. But inside, I’m screaming, Fuck, not them.
“Fuck,” I let the curse slip out.
“Yes, that is why I said your places in this city are no longer safe for you or your family. They won’t just take out you; they’re coming for your?—”
“Stop right there.” I bite out the order. “Don’t even say it.”
Leo raises both hands in front of himself. “Mea culpa. But the threat is real. They know all about your fortress being breached, your daughter being kidnapped, and V being shot down. You’re exposed. They smell blood in the water. The Russians say they’re moving in any day. They won’t miss this opportunity. Time is of the essence. They’ll strike hard and fast to take you out—from both sides of the law. You were not supposed to see it coming.”
For the first time in my life, I’m thankful someone tried to kill me. If Remy Marchand hadn’t started shooting this morning, I wouldn’t have known that a dirty Fed and his father, one of the joint chiefs of staff, were coming to take my head.
I might have been able to take on the cartels … but this is different. This family … they’re not fucking right. I’ve heard the rumors. I’ve seen pictures. People might think I’m the devil, but the DuForts actually worship Satan.
It has taken every bit of my resources to keep as many of the kids of New Orleans safe from their fucked-up perversions …
“You have a lot to process, my friend. I understand this is unwelcome news.”
I can’t help but laugh humorlessly as I stare up at the rotting roof of the trawler cabin. What the hell else am I supposed to do? “It’s just another day in the life of Lachlan Mount.”
“I do not envy you this life, Mount. I do not envy you at all. But as they say, with great power comes great responsibility.”
I jerk my chin down to pierce him with my gaze. “What else do you know?”
“Nothing really. The Russians work with John Pierre, the younger, although the connection was made by the father. They are not happy that he’s moving in this crazy Kostegov. According to the Russians, he’s not stable. He’s a savage and a loose cannon.”
“Coming from the Russians …” I trail off.
Leo finishes the thought for me. “That’s saying something, I know.” He crosses his arms and leans back. “You see why I was not displeased you called me today, except for the circumstances. I like the balance of power in New Orleans exactly as it is. I don’t want a savage loose cannon in charge of my city. With you, I know what to expect. With change, no one knows.”
When I don’t reply immediately, he prompts, “What will you do?”
I tilt my head to study him. “You know I wouldn’t tell you even if I had a plan right this very fucking moment.”
Leo smiles, looking more like a lion than ever. “Fair enough. Now, is that enough to free my nephew without further harm? I love the kid, even if he’s a pain in my ass.”
“You’re not lying?” I know I don’t have to ask, but I can’t be too careful. Not with this information that feels like someone handed me a ticking time bomb.
“Of course not. I wouldn’t lie about this. You see why I couldn’t tell you over the phone. I can’t trust that the Feds aren’t listening to my every word at this point. None of us are safe now. Not a single fucking one of us, which makes me very unhappy. I like my life. I don’t want it to change. But it seems, change is the one constant over which none of us has control.”
With a nod, I assure him, “Your nephew will be fine. Call your doc and have someone pick him up on the corner of Canal and Bourbon at 7:05. He’ll be getting out of a black Sprinter van, wearing a jester hat, like the idiot he was this morning.”
