Page 29 of Rowe

“Because this is a much longer story best served with food.”

CHAPTER TEN

Victor Rossi took the Rolls Royce Phantom VII – five-hundred-and-fifty thousand dollars’ worth of car, down River Road. It never once occurred to his arrogance that the car was suspicious alone but driving it out just after a hurricane made it even more suspicious.

He followed the original directions five times and each time he was turned back, hit a dead end, or simply got lost. Frustrated, he slammed his fist against the steering wheel and cursed everyone.

The woman knew more than she was letting on. Much more. If she really were alive, she would tell everyone what he was planning. He would lose the docks, lose his power, and worse, lose hundreds of millions of dollars. He’d made promises that he couldn’t take back. Access for cartels, transport for Chinese and Korean gangs. He’d taken their money on good faith, on the Rossi reputation. If she ruined it, he’d lose more than money. He’d lose his life.

His elbow slammed against the console so hard, his lukewarm coffee spilled all over the tobacco-colored leather seats. Looking at the map on his phone and on the screen of the car, he frowned again.

“Fuck!” he screamed. He was headed back to New Orleans. When the fuck had he even turned around? He stepped out of the car and looked up and down the desolate road.

There were a few homes still standing after the hurricane, but they all had damage and most people were outside working on the repairs. He parked the car along the side of the road and walked toward the first house.

“Afternoon,” he said calmly.

“Howdy,” said an elderly man. “You broke down?”

“No. That car doesn’t break down,” he mused. “I’m looking for some men and a hospital.”

The old man raised a brow and chuckled, he shook his head staring up at his three sons on the roof. They all laughed.

“Hospitals that way. Back toward N’awlins,” said the old man. “Men? Not sure what kinda men you want but I’d head back to N’awlins for that too.”

Rossi bit his tongue and pursed his lips, the visible anger making the men laugh again. It was so fucking hot and humid he was sweating through his Armani suit, and he wasn’t happy about that either.

“They had names. Christopher, Patrick, Kai, Sonny, and Jethro.” The men laughed again, shaking their heads. “What’s so fucking funny?”

“Mister, thems some common names,” said one of the sons. “Lots of Christophers and Patricks around here. Jethros? I know at least five. You still gotta be more specific.”

“Listen. I need to get to that hospital, and I can’t even find it!” he yelled.

“Maybe you ain’t lookin’ good enough,” said the old man. “If you didn’t find it, you weren’t meant to. Hospital is back that way. Now get off my land.” He was still pointing back toward New Orleans when Rossi walked back across the street to his Phantom.

“I’m not giving up,” he growled.

Further down there was another house, this time with several women out front working on repairing a garden trellis. He put on his best smile and walked toward the women, his suit coat now swung over one arm.

“Ladies. Do you need some help?” he asked with a big smile.

“Don’t look like you could help yourself,” said one of the women. “We got this.” He tried not to frown at the woman, but he was getting pissed off fast.

“Listen, I just need to find a local hospital and five men who were working there. It’s important. My niece is missing.”

“Is she now?” said one of the women. “Did you go see the sheriff? He’d tell you where she’s located if she’s alive.”

He’d called the sheriff. At least the one he knew in the next parish. He was absolutely no help and said he couldn’t even access the records for this parish. When he tried to speak to the local sheriff, he practically shut the door in his face.

“Why is this so fucking hard?” he growled.

“You look hungry,” said one of the women. “General Store about a mile that way has sandwiches, cold drinks, and best pralines in the state.”

“Great. Thanks so much for all your help,” he said in sarcastic tone.

“Welcome!” yelled the women as they laughed, turning back to their work. The older man down the road grinned as he drove by and then waved at the women in the front yard of the other house. They were in on this together.

“Bunch of fucking hicks!” he said to himself. “Some kind of joke to keep me from them. They have no idea what I’m capable of, what I can do.”