Page 111 of Lord Have Mercy Part Four: Big Son

“Yeah. I’m glad yourwifeisn’t gonna be a problem anymore,” Boyle said, lip curled. Grab the kid. We need to get moving.”

Moving? Remy’s heart leaped. This place – a gator depot, he’d heard more than one of them say – was one that Daddy had no doubt been to when he used to live here, when he hunted gators with his daddy. So long as they were here, in one place, not moving, Remy had held out hope that Daddy might find him here. The fancy, big house where his Aunt Regina – he wasn’t sure if he believed she was really his aunt – had seemed like a place where no one he knew might find him. But gators, gatordepots– that was Daddy all over.

Only, they were moving, now.

He stood as Fallon approached, before his arm could be grabbed and wrenched. Though he stepped forward obediently,Fallon still gripped his shoulder and shoved him so that he stumbled, held up only by the fingers curled tight in the fabric of his sweatshirt.

“Move,” Fallon said, but he sounded distracted. Frightened. He was breathing hard and loud through his mouth, like he’d been running.

One of Lloyd’s men intercepted them on their way to the back door. He was tall and on the skinny side, hair short in the front and spilling dull brown down the back of his neck past his collar. He was lugging a crate, and stopped right in front of them. Turned to look down at Remy.

“Is this the hostage?” he asked.

Remy blinked up at him – and then blinked again.Oh. The hair, and the clothes, and the voice were all wrong, but the face was one he recognized.

Tenny. He started to say it, and then bit down hard on the end of his tongue. He couldn’t reveal his identity out loud in front of all the others.

“None of your business,” Fallon told Tenny, and shoved Remy around him.

But not before Tenny shot Remy a wink.

Outside, the dark was blanketing and more than a little frightening after the harsh glare of the indoor lights. Remy blinked, and walked slowly, and his eyes adjusted quickly.

Three floating orbs of pale blue-white light resolved into lanterns suspended from the tow bars of three boats. Daddy loved boats, and had countless books of them, most of which Remy had paged through, Daddy always eager to answer questions and offer wisdom. He could tell that these boats were built to move quickly, with steering wheels, and dashboards, and two motors jutting off the backs, rather than one. The tow bars, he knew, were designed to accommodate ski ropes. Not the sorts of boats Daddy said were best for hunting, but for sporting – andfor making a fast getaway, which was what they were doing, he realized, with a sinking sensation in his belly.

The water’s edge looked totally different than it had that morning, still, drowsy, dotted with dragonflies, and then, in a moment of sudden movement, boiling around the long, flexing body of the gator that had lunged for him. Now, the water and sky were the same deep indigo of night, save where the water flared and foamed around the legs of the men wading from the sandy beach to deposit crates into the boats.

There were lots of men, moving in lots of directions, loading the boats, calling to one another. A controlled chaos.

Remy looked at the dark, concealing water, and wondered if he might – but, no. Fallon put his arms around him and hoisted him up into his arms, carrying him through the water, cursing as it slapped up around his knees, his hips, and then the middle of his chest. He was almost swimming by the time he reached the first boat, and Remy’s whole back was wet. The water was shockingly warm, and it had a smell, part-metallic, part-green.

“Next time, pick a place with a fucking dock,” Fallon muttered, panting, as a man in the boat reached down to take Remy’s arms and haul him up and aboard.

“There used to be a dock,” the man said. He was big, and beer-bellied, and good-natured, as he deposited Remy on the bench at the stern of the boat and then reached to help Fallon crawl up over the side. “But it got rotten, and somebody took it down.”

“Fascinating,” Fallon muttered. He got to his feet and shook off like a dog.

A moment later, Boyle climbed up into the boat as well, without help, and more gracefully, heedless of the water streaming down his black military pants and boots. “We need to get moving.”

The big man moved to the wheel, turned a key, and the motors started up with twin roars.

“Wait, wait, hold on,” a voice called, and then another man hauled himself up the side of the boat, clear of the props, and joined them. He was soaked, as everyone else was, clothes plastered to a frame that revealed itself to be strong with lean, corded muscle, rather than the plain skinniness the jeans and white shirt and denim vest had originally implied.

It was Tenny, and he plopped down onto the bench beside Remy with a splat and said, “Okay, we’re good, everyone else is loaded, boss.”

Remy held his breath, and waited for Boyle to turn and see him. To realize who he was, and that he didn’t belong. Wondered if Boyle might even shoot him.

But Boyle only nodded, eyes scanning the water, and said, “Go.”

The big man pushed down the throttle, and they went.

~*~

“Little more, little more…right there, love, that’s good.”

Maggie killed the Jeep’s engine and sent Devin a cocked-brow look through the windshield. “What did I say about the pet names, Devin?”

“Sorry.” He grinned, not sorry at all, as he gripped the big hook on the Jeep’s winch and started unspooling the cable. “Old habit. It won’t happen again. Love.”

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