The Devil's Orchard (11 page)

“Back home waiting for you.” Jerome motioned for the men to wait for him outside. “She sent me to tell you that time’s up. This shit you’re doing is hurting business.”

“You got here yesterday, and you think you can fucking tell me what Mama wants?” Gustavo laughed as he stripped his jacket and shirt off. He tucked his gun into the front of his waistband, and Jerome almost wished the stupid shit would pull the trigger and die from blowing his dick off. “You forget already who you listen to?”

“If you mean yourself, then you need to get your nose out of that nice box you love. Your mother and I came to an agreement, and you were the first thing she caved on. Either go home and pretend you’re important to the business,” he said as he chose the cleanest-appearing chair, sat, and crossed his legs, “or not.”

“Or not?” Gustavo laughed hysterically as he slapped his chest. “What you mean?”

“Your mother needs to grow the business more than she’s willing to give in to your craziness. Face facts, amigo. Some things are out of your reach. Emma Casey is number one on that list.”

“Don’t talk for my mama. You are not important to her like me.” Gustavo slapped his chest again hard enough to leave the mark of his handprint.

“Call her if you don’t believe me, but before you do, make sure you know everything that’s happened.”

Gustavo was almost panting as he stood closer to him, so he put both feet on the ground in case the guy got really stupid. “What you talking about?”

“Three of our places got blown up last night, and no one survived. Once the cops figure out that you locked up those women in only their panties like dogs, they will hunt you down.” He’d deal with the others for not telling him. He’d actually heard about it on the news feed on the plane, and the demeanor of the newswoman on CNN was similar to a starving dog with a meaty bone being waved in front of it. The woman practically salivated as the investigators sifted through the rubble. This story wouldn’t die a quick, quiet death.

Gustavo stared at him as if he’d suddenly switched to Korean. “You speak shit.”

“Here.” He handed over his phone. “Call them and tell one of your lap dogs to bring you a refill.”

“That bitch,” Gustavo yelled. “She did this to me.”

“Shut the fuck up and start packing.” The door opened and the order echoed out to the hallway. He screamed at Pablo when he entered without knocking. “What?”

“Someone killed many of our people.”

“I know that, and you should’ve told me at the airport.”

“No, señor, on the street. The men we have on the street, they die.”

“Shit.” Jerome stood and dialed another number. “Find out what the hell happened and get back to me,” he said to the guy who answered. “Pack and get out of my sight. Everything in place went down in a day while you were busy waving your dick at a woman who hates you.” Gustavo reached for his gun, but Pablo beat him to it and drew first. “Do you need a babysitter to see you get back to Mama?”

“Fuck off.” Gustavo spat at him but kept his hand away from his gun.

“Who called you?” Jerome asked Pablo as he walked back to the car.

“He say he not shot, but everyone else dead. I call and no one answer, so I think they dead too.”

“What’s his name?”

“I don’t know.”

The call didn’t come from one of their guys. In his gut he knew that was true, and it put him in a bad spot. He couldn’t negotiate with Delarosa if he didn’t know it was him, and he didn’t know it wasn’t him. No one gained an edge if he didn’t have information.

“He spoke Spanish to you?”

“Perfect.”

It couldn’t be Cain, and he couldn’t narrow down who it was with so little to go on. “Get out there and see what’s going on.”

“And Señor Delarosa?”

“I’ll deal with that myself, but don’t worry, I’m not cutting you out of that deal.” He shut the door on Pablo and waited until he was calmer to make a call. “You know what to do, right?”

“Yeah, no worry.”

“You should worry a little if you want to stay alive.”

*

Nicolette Blanc linked her fingers together as if in prayer as she gazed out at the grand homes on St. Charles Avenue. When she’d attended Tulane University, she enjoyed walking this street and those around it because the area reminded her of home. New Orleans as a whole had a sense of history and old traditions not found in too many places in the States.

She’d left Luce behind, not in the mood for her out-of-control jealousy, especially after she’d tangled with Cain and been completely shut out. Luce was used to giving an order and everyone in their organization falling over themselves to be the one to get it done. It’d taken her a while to garner that type of respect, and Nicolette had often compared her to the one woman she’d never been able to bed no matter how hard she’d tried.

Cain had fascinated her from the moment she’d seen her walking across the front lawn of the campus with a beautiful girl hanging to her so tight it appeared like Cain would disappear if she let go. It hadn’t taken much after that to find out who Cain was and what the Casey name meant. Luce had worked for the respect she had now, but Cain had been born with the type of charisma that people were drawn to and made them want to please her. Nicolette certainly had wanted to, even after years of rejection.

They pulled up to an ornate gate, which showed only a small glimpse of the house beyond it. The tall, solid wall reminded her of the defenses Cain had raised against her when she’d approached her about their families doing business together.

“Can I help you?” The man at her window had the thickest neck she’d ever seen on a human, but his white shirt and tie still appeared tasteful and sedate.

“Nic Blanc for Cain Casey. I don’t have an appointment, but I don’t mind waiting if she can give me a few minutes.”

“Wait here, ma’am,” he said, as if she had another choice. He had a short conversation with someone before he returned. “Go ahead in and park over there.” He pointed to an empty spot. “If your driver’s going in with you, make sure he’s clean. Any guns you insist on will be taken and not returned, so don’t make that mistake.”

The garden to the side and the toys close to it didn’t compute with what she remembered of Cain, but she put that out of her mind when the front door opened. It wasn’t Cain, so the grand reunion she’d dreamed about for years with Cain coming to her and sweeping her off her feet wasn’t going to happen.

“Welcome, Ms. Blanc, please come in,” the woman said. “Mrs. Casey will be with you shortly.”

“Mrs. Casey? Cain’s married?”

“When I say Mrs. Casey, I mean Emma Casey, and she is Ms. Cain’s wife, so she is married.” The woman left her, but the guard close to where she sat kept his eye on her.

After a long fifteen minutes, a visibly pregnant petite woman stopped close to her and held her hand out. “Welcome to our home, Ms. Blanc, I’m Emma. I’ll be happy to help you since Cain is out at the moment. What can I do for you?”

Nicolette didn’t often dismiss someone after a glance, but this woman wasn’t worth more than that. Everyone couldn’t be perfect, and Cain had finally fallen from the heavens with this choice. Weakness in anything or anyone was the beginning of their ruination. This woman would be Cain’s.

“You should’ve mentioned she wasn’t at home,” she said, and didn’t care if her aggravation seeped into her tone. “I’ll call next time.” She walked out, not bothering to take Emma’s hand. When she got outside, the mountain she’d figured they’d have to climb to get back into Cain’s good graces was shaved to an ant pile.

Emma stared at her front door and laughed. It gave her a sense of pleasure to know Cain had never been with the French asshole who’d walked about with the same authority she guessed royalty was used to. From Hannah’s squeals coming from the direction of the kitchen, the object of Nicolette’s desires had arrived. “Is Blanc’s car still out there?” she asked the guard close to the door.

“Yes. Would you like me to call her back in?”

“No, but thanks for asking,” she said as she winked and walked to the back of the house.

She hung back when she saw Hannah on Cain’s lap, recounting her entire day at school. Any worry she’d ever had that their daughter would have trouble bonding with Cain had died days after they were all under the same roof.

Cain, no matter what was going on, dedicated at least an hour every day to Hannah. All that time had erased the skittishness her mother had taught their daughter, and like Hayden, Hannah had embraced her role as a Casey heir with the gusto only Cain could infuse in her. Hannah had become confident in a way that no one experienced unless they were rock-solid sure of their safety net. It wasn’t hard to fly high if you knew Cain was there to catch you.

“Mom, I told my teacher you and Mama would do it,” Hannah said, her hand in Cain’s.

“We’d do what?” she asked after she kissed Cain on the lips.

“We’re hosting a pizza and cupcake party next week for Miss Hannah’s class,” Cain said with a smile. “It’s close to the end of school, Mama, so we have to celebrate that.”

“You missed someone who wanted to celebrate with you.” She traced Cain’s ear with her finger, which made her want to strip and beg Cain to touch her.

“You sure it’s not you, lass?” Cain said, in a way that convinced her she could read her mind.

“You just missed Nicolette Blanc,” she said, and described how the woman had treated her. “I haven’t felt like a piece of fluff since our first date, but that woman managed it in a five-second conversation.”

“I think someone convinced her as a child that she was a descendant of Marie Antoinette, but must’ve not told her how that story ended.” Cain sat her on her other knee. “I’m sorry about that. I should’ve briefed the guys out front to make her go through the office.”

“I’m not comfortable with the thought of her anywhere near you.”

“Faith, lass.” Cain’s kiss soothed the vein of jealousy throbbing in her stomach. “We need to change so we don’t miss the beginning of Hayden’s game.” Hannah ran out like they’d threatened to leave her behind.

“I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Love, you can tell me anything. If you don’t, then how would I know to tell you how unimportant it is to me to do business with the Blancs? If I was undecided before, I’m set to lock them out now. I should’ve made that clear when I met with that bitch Luce Fournier.”

Cain locked the door to their bedroom, unzipped Emma’s dress, and helped her step out of it.

“Thanks for the pep talk. Is that the only reason you’re in such a good mood?” Her nipple tightened painfully when Cain laughed, wearing only her underwear.

“You know I love you, right?”

“Yes,” she said as she pressed her hands to her chest in hopes that the warmth would relax the pucker.

“Then I hope it doesn’t insult you when I say that sometimes I want to simply fuck you until you scream my name.”

The words made Emma squeeze her breasts, which unleashed a flood in her panties. “Not nice, mobster. You don’t make declarations like that when we have somewhere to be.”

She didn’t have time to react to Cain’s laugh since Cain had picked her up and laid her on the bed. Her eyes closed when Cain’s fingers slid in to the palm, gently at first, but then moved at a faster, delicious pace when she didn’t object.

It was what Cain said, a fuck to relieve the need she’d obviously seen etched in her face. There was no buildup—it wasn’t needed—but she didn’t feel less loved as Cain touched her with the skill only a longtime lover would have. Her climax came as quickly, and she kissed the side of Cain’s neck in gratitude.

“Thank you doesn’t begin to cover it,” she said lethargically.

“It’s always a privilege, lass, that never loses its appeal. Tonight let’s try for the long, scenic route. You know how much I love stopping at all the points of interest.” She bit down on her nipple gently through her bra, making her hiss. “Right now, though, you need to get dressed to watch your son play ball. Eventually he’ll learn the true meaning of second base, home plate, and everything in between, so we’ll enjoy this while we can.”

“Bite my tongue, mobster,” Emma said teasingly as she adjusted the water for a fast shower. “And before you correct me, it’s more fun if you bite mine than yours.”

They finished and were dressed by the time Hannah knocked on their door. Emma enjoyed the sight of Cain in jeans wearing a shirt she’d gotten from Hayden’s school with their logo on the breast pocket. As delightful as the afternoon had been so far, a small niggling of doubt started in the back of her mind like a cluster of dark, ominous clouds on the horizon.

“Come on, Mama,” Hannah said. “Let’s go have fun.”

She tried to smother her fear so she could share Hannah’s enthusiasm, but sometimes intuition wouldn’t be ignored. Something or someone was coming, and it meant them harm.

“You got it, baby,” she said brightly.

Fear, she’d discovered, had a way of getting stronger when you finally had almost everything you wanted. Once you’d arrived at that place, it was so easy for someone to take it away.

Not to tempt fate, but this time they’d have to take it from her by force. She’d never give it away as easily as she had to Barney Kyle.

“Thirty-six,” Special Agent Ronald Chapman said to the group he’d assembled for this meeting. “Thirty-six people dead in an hour’s time, and you have nothing. Do you see this as a problem?”

Ronald had spent the last five years as a special liaison to the president, a job that had garnered him power, and it was time to use it. The next part of his plan was to knock Annabel and some of the other agents out of this office and replace them with people loyal to him. It was time to clean the streets of New Orleans all the way to the mayor’s office, a position he wanted as a steppingstone to the U.S. Senate. The foundation to those steps he planned to climb would be built by toppling organized crime.

“We’re working with the NOPD in an advisory position, Ron. We haven’t been invited in, and they want to take point on the investigation,” Annabel said.

“Leaders lead, Annabel. They do not ask permission, they simply do.” He repeated the motto he religiously lived by. “Three bombings followed by this means the stitching has come off the seams holding this city together. Before that really happens, the citizens deserve for us to prevent an all-out war over drugs from breaking out.”

“Great speech, but we still have rules and laws to abide by.” Annabel, from her demeanor, was barely holding back her hostility. At least she was smart enough to know why he was here.

“You can go back to your duties…for now,” he said, enjoying the knowledge that the asshole of everyone in the room had tightened from the unknown future they had here. “I’ll be speaking with each of you individually, so reschedule whatever you have when I’m ready for you.”

Brent Cehan got up and stood behind him with a clipboard. He needed an assistant for the investigation he was here to do, so he’d chosen the one agent who’d shown the kind of attitude he needed to see if he was going to succeed.

“Agent Cehan will be working with me, so expect to hear from him.”

“Agent Cehan is restricted to light duty pending an investigation for a recent incident.”

“He’s been cleared of any wrongdoing as of this morning,” he said, and Brent’s cruel-appearing smile made Ronald feel a kinship with him. “There will be no further action and no mention of this in his file.”

“Local and Casey family attorney Muriel Casey will have a problem with that, and she’ll pressure U.S. Attorney George Talbot into something you aren’t going to like,” Joe said.

“Perhaps that’s what the problem is,” he said, glancing back at Brent, who’d given him a thorough rundown on office dynamics earlier. “You all seem to be under the impression you have to coddle these thugs. Not anymore. When you’re at war, people, you must do whatever it takes to win. Whatever it takes—remember that.”

“So our plan is frontier justice?” Joe asked.

“Our plan is to win.”

“From my experience that’s Muriel’s plan as well, and she’ll take great pleasure in reminding Mr. Talbot that the only reason Cain Casey didn’t file charges against Brent for assault was because he agreed to be on desk duty for much longer than this,” Joe said as he locked eyes with Brent. “I’m sure Brent must’ve forgotten to tell you that when he volunteered to work with you.”

Annabel stared at Joe in hopes he’d keep his mouth shut and stop antagonizing Ronald, no matter how aggravating he was. She was upset with herself for not giving Brent his transfer to Houston like he’d wanted. The big bastard was now in position to screw her over, so it was time to strategize a counterattack. Brent had picked a side, but she was sure the others would back her.

“We do our jobs and we have results to show for it,” she said as she stood, ready to leave. When you gave Ronald the opportunity, he could grandstand as long as you’d let him. Ronald was here to torpedo her career, but he didn’t outrank her, so she’d had her fill for now. “
My
staff is here to help however they can, but I’d appreciate a heads-up if you’re going to reassign anyone else.”

Joe followed her to her office and forcibly closed the door. “I’m sorry for saying this, ma’am, but that guy’s an asshole.”

“Can I trust you, Joe?”

“What do you want to me to do?” he asked, dropping into one of her chairs.

“Be honest with Ronald, since I don’t need to give him any more ammunition to screw us. I know he plans to split our teams apart and ship them out of the city.” She stared out her window, and had Ronald not been there, she’d be tempted to go home and lie down. Being under constant attack was exhausting. “He wanted this job and never got over that fact that it went to an inexperienced bitch. I believe that’s a direct quote.”

“If he tries to replace you, ma’am, he can go ahead and transfer me. It’s insulting to be accused of gross incompetence when it comes to dealing with people like Cain Casey. Special Agent Chapman,” he said the name in a way that sounded like a curse, “is going to figure that out soon enough when Cain chews him up and scatters pieces of him all over the place. Especially once she gets a taste of his charming personality.”

“Talk to Shelby again and let her know how important it is that she comes back. If she’s not ready, I’ll understand, and if she isn’t, then tell her the daily visits to Casey aren’t in her best interest right now.”

“Anything else?”

“The rest…it’s better if you leave to me.”

Joe’s silence made her focus on him, and his expression was hard to read, so she had no idea what was on his mind. “I don’t mean any disrespect, but you need to cut this guy off at the knees, Annabel, before he has the opportunity to return the favor. We might not agree all the time, but we’ve got your back on this one.”

“Thanks, Joe. If we’re smart we’d take a page out of Casey’s playbook.”

“How so?”

“We’ve never been able to prove that Gino Bracato and his sons are dead, but we all know they are, and who killed them. Like Casey, we need to bury these guys deep enough that they won’t be a problem, and then we can go back to doing our jobs in peace.”

*

Hayden’s game was on the meticulously kept field at the private school the kids attended. This would be Hayden’s last year on campus since he’d already been accepted at his grandfather and uncle’s alma mater, Jesuit. The stands were starting to fill, and quite a few of the other parents came up to welcome the Caseys as they walked toward the bleachers.

Most of the faculty and parents had been wary at first, but the fund-raising committee had warmed to Cain once she’d opened her checkbook. Now that Emma and Hannah were back home, she was glad some of their money had gone to the comfortable stands that expanded out past first and third bases.

Hannah’s teacher hugged the little girl and Emma when they were close to their seats in the first row near third base. Everyone had been good about saving the block of seats that made it easy for Merrick and Emma to attend. “I know Hannah volunteered you guys, but I wanted to make sure that was okay,” the young woman said.

“I think we can handle pizza and cupcakes for everyone,” Cain said, holding Emma’s hand. “If you get some of the other parents to help serve, you can invite the other four classes.”

“That’d be great. You two are any teacher’s dream.”

They sat and Cain glanced at Lou before finding Hayden on the field going through the warm-ups. The only blemish on the day was the constant fear that stayed with her, and would, until she’d planted Juan and his mother in the ground after a slow, excruciating death.

Keep having morbid thoughts like that, Casey, and you might prove the FBI right
, she thought as she looked in the direction Lou was discreetly pointing. Cehan she recognized, but the man next to him was a new face in the game. Annabel’s warning was perhaps coming true. She didn’t glance away when Brent, unlike Lou, blatantly pointed at her. Whoever the new guy was, he obviously didn’t have many manners. Only once before that had Annabel’s goons dragged her away in front of her family, and Muriel had used that incident to add ammunition to her harassment claims. That’d been a bonus, but it hadn’t helped her children forget.

“Stay put,” Muriel said from the seat behind her.

“If that,” she took a deep breath so as not to curse in front of Hannah, “
guy
pulls something, I’m going to pull something right off his body. Maybe I’ll make earrings and send them to Annabel to wear with those drab suits she’s so fond of.”

“Let me go,” Muriel said, and Katlin got up with her.

“What are they doing here?” Emma asked.

“Fishing,” she said, but kept her eyes on Brent Cehan. She hadn’t forgotten him or what he’d done, and the old Sicilian saying flashed through her mind every time she saw him. Her revenge was cooling, and long after he’d forgotten the misery he’d put her through she’d serve it cold and cruelly. The heat the authorities would bring down on them for killing him would be intense, but it’d be worth it.

“Haven’t they learned their lesson by now?” Emma said.

“That you shouldn’t trawl for sharks with the weakest rod in your arsenal? That lesson?”

“Different analogy than mine, but yes, something like that. Annabel and company must be getting desperate.”

“The big guy with the belt buckle that clashes with his outfit is the guy who rearranged my face for me.” Brent made eye contact with her, obviously not giving a damn or paying attention to what Muriel was saying. “Somehow I don’t feel like this is an Annabel play because she testified he’d serve a long reprimand behind a desk for what he did if I agreed not to press charges. She also promised he wouldn’t come anywhere near us.”

“And you believed her?” Emma said, and let go of her hand when Brent shoved Muriel. “Let Katlin handle it, please.”

“He’s not here for Katlin.” She bent and whispered in Emma’s ear. “The kids deserve to play without distractions, so stay with Hannah and I’ll be right back.” She looked at Sabana and nodded when she took the seat Muriel had vacated. Lou had immediately taken hers when she’d stood up.

Brent was tall and thick, the type of guy you just knew played football because he took pleasure in hitting people. A habit he’d not outgrown, judging by his current behavior. He’d put his hand up again when Katlin stepped in front of Muriel but backed away when the guy he was with waved him off.

“Ms. Casey,” the man said with a smile that reminded her of a used-car salesman. He probably thought it charming and disarming, but she saw it as oily and deceitful. “I’m Special Agent Ronald Chapman.”

“Do you have a son on the opposing team?”

“No, I’m not a fan of baseball. It’s too slow and lacking in action for me to really get into.”

“Then go home and tune into some fake wrestling.” She motioned her cousins behind her. They ignored her, probably because Brent hadn’t moved back either. “I’ve already spoken to Agent Hicks today, only she was courteous enough to come to my office. If you need something else, this isn’t the time or place.”

“Only civilized people deserve to be treated civilly,” Ronald said, and Brent laughed like a trained seal looking for his master to throw him a sardine. “We both know what type of person you are, so I’m going to enjoy showing up at stuff like this whenever the mood strikes me. People need to realize it’s never a wise thing to keep a cobra as a pet. It might be fascinating and beautiful, but it’s deadly even when put in a pretty tank. Your life might seem normal to these people here, but do they realize you killed about fifty people in a twenty-four-hour span?”

“Do you—” Muriel said, but stopped when she raised a finger.

“My cousin was about to ask where your proof is. Let’s see the handcuffs and list of charges for that atrocity.”

“Atrocity,” Brent said, and laughed again, “is the wrong word for a bunch of drug dealers.”

“Maybe you should do an internal review before you accuse other people of any crime that comes along.” Brent’s statement had knocked a bit of the cocky off the new guy. “Or did you just get here and decided to show the Irish mick who’s in charge now?”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because you’ve arrived with the dumbest agent in Annabel’s stable, like a guy trying to prove he’s got a pair by picking a fight. Is that a good description of you, Chapman? A guy with a chip in his ass trying to boost his questionable manhood by flashing that pretty leather credentials wallet they gave you?”

It was like watching a thermometer in a pot of simmering water. Ronald’s eyes closed to slits and his hands clenched to match Cain’s. The angrier he got, the more amused she became and wondered why it was so easy to whip these guys into a froth. Annabel and Shelby were a little slower to irritate, but she’d managed it on a few occasions.

“If that’s how you want to play it, I’ll be happy to oblige,” Ronald said in what she assumed was his best menacing voice. “You’ll pray for the days of Agent Hicks and the team assigned to you now, because I’m going to make it my life’s mission to bring you down by any means I can.”

“Ronald,” she said, and his anger clicked up a notch. “May I call you Ronald?” He didn’t say anything, but he was shaking. “You should’ve learned the most important lesson in your years with the Bureau when throwing out threats.”

“What, that pieces of shit like you always go down even if they think they’re scary?” he said, loud enough to make heads turn.

“Not quite, Ronald,” she said enjoying the sound of yet another name she could make sound the way
Annabel
rolled off her tongue. Annabel had accused her on numerous occasions of making her name sound hickish and simplistic. “You of all people should realize everyone has secrets. Some of us hide them better than others. How well have you buried yours?”

“Is that a threat, Derby?” Ronald said, trying the name game.

“It’s more of a challenge. The thing about me is, if left alone, I don’t bother anyone, but you all can’t seem to leave me alone.”

“So you
are
threatening me, a federal agent?”

“Digging up information isn’t a crime, or that’s my opinion since your agents have me under a microscope every second. Because you do, you’re my best alibi.” She smiled at both men and heard Hayden’s team hit the field for the start of the game. “Privacy is something I crave but seldom get, so we’ll see how you like a dissection of your life. I’m sure a guy like you is squeaky, but sometimes it takes something really freaky to keep that façade up.”