Page 76 of Beau

Unless the previous attacks had been warnings. Slash could have killed her before throwing her into the bayou. As big as he was, he could easily have snapped her neck, choked her or worse.

The home invasion, care of Lansky, had happened while she’d been at the masquerade ball. Since the two men worked for Manny Marceaux, they had to have planned the simultaneous attacks, knowing exactly where she’d be and when.

The two hitmen were known to her, but who were the other men standing near the boat? She’d bet the man who commanded the attention of all the others was Marceau himself, the Cajun mafia kingpin. It wasn’t until the younger man turned enough for the starlight to shine down on his face that Aurelie recognized him and gasped before she could contain her shock.

The five men turned toward the noise.

She kept her head down and tried to look as limp as a ragdoll, with only ropes keeping her from falling over.

“Are you sure she’s unconscious?” Jason Gousman asked.

“It doesn’t matter if she’s unconscious or wide awake,” Marceaux said. “By the time anyone finds her, she’ll be little more than scattered bones.”

“Then why not kill her now?” the other man asked. “Why leave anything to chance?”

“We hold all our cards until the senator announces his withdrawal from the race,” Marceaux said. “He might demand a last-minute proof of life, especially since the last image sent was of his precious little girl unconscious.” Marceau glared at Slash. “We need her alive until the announcement goes out on television. That means you don’t get to hit her until I tell you to hit her. Got it?”

The big hitman gave a single nod of his head.

“Seems to me you’re expending a lot of energy on the wrong person,” the mystery man said. “Taking out the whistleblower should keep tree-huggers like her from snooping around where she doesn’t belong. She never would’ve known where to look and when to show up if it hadn’t been for the tips she received. I pay you well enough to keep shit like that from happening. What guarantee can you give me that this won’t happen to my interests?”

Marceaux stepped up to the other man, getting nose-to-nose with him. “You pay me to do your dirty work. Do you think you can do better? Knock yourself out. You couldn’t even keep the snitch from infiltrating your precious company and discovering you don’t play by the rules any more than the others the bitch has already had the EPA shut down.” Marceaux’s voice lowered to a dangerous rumble. “And remember, you didn’t get to where you are without a few skeletons hiding in your closet. Or should I say in the foundation of your new office complex in New Orleans? What’s your tagline, again? ‘JBX Chemicals built on trust?’ How about ‘built on the bones of your competitors?’”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the man blustered.

Aurelie finally placed the mystery man. Patrick Holzhauer, CEO of JBX Chemicals. She was supposed to have met with him earlier that day. All the while, he’d been paying Marceaux’s Cajun mafia to keep the EPA out of his business.

Had the other corporations she’d exposed quit paying Marceaux to run interference with EPA agents?

And what was Jason Gousman’s involvement in the Cajun mafia?

“You think that by ousting Anderson from the senatorial race and putting this puppet of yours in his place, the EPA will stop looking into our activities?”

“He’s running on a campaign to bring more business to the state and thus jobs. It’s what the voters want. He can legislate looser guidelines, which means cheaper costs of doing business. More companies will flock into the state.”

Holzhauer snorted. “More people with jobs to fill your casinos and line your pockets.”

“It’s a win-win for everyone,” Marceaux said.

“I don’t like standing around. I don’t know why you insisted I come along,” Holzhauer said.

“Let’s just say the more skin you have in the game, the less likely you’ll blab to the feds.” Marceaux tipped his head toward Aurelie. “When she dies, you become an accessory to murder—only if you open your mouth.”

“So, this is your way of ensuring our silence.” Holzhauer turned to Gousman. “You’re part of this, as well, about to become a public servant, someone who should be of the highest moral standards.”

Gousman snorted. “What politician is?”

Marceaux glanced at his watch. “Anderson has thirty-five minutes to make his announcement. Once he’s out of the race, Gousman has no competition.”

“And you don’t think people will question his sudden withdrawal?” Holzhauer asked.

“Not when the public learns of the disappearance of his only child.”

“What will keep him from talking when you don’t give him his daughter after doing as you demanded?” Gousman asked.

“Dead men don’t talk,” Marceaux said. “He’ll die of a heart attack. The press will say he died of a broken heart.” He turned to Slash. “Get the bucket out of the boat.”

Slash went to the boat and came back with a five-gallon bucket.

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