Page 10 of Loki's Flame

“With that body and those cheekbones, Hun; they’d be eating out of your hands.”

“Thanks! I’ve never thought about it, but who knows? Maybe after I’ve been working here for a while. My last job was at a kind of sleazy place. Drugs were being dealt out of the kitchen by one of the line cooks,” I said, leading the conversation to what I hoped would be good gossip.

“Oh, that sucks. Ragnarök is one of the best clubs in the area. Believe me, I’ve worked at a few in my time.,” she smiled, looking down at her long pink nails.

“So, just between us, this place doesn’t have that element, right? I mean, I know it's run by the Valhalla Heathens, and I just know little about them.”

“You got nothin’ to worry about. They sure ain’t saints, but they're alright,” she smiled and started walking with me toward the Valkyrie room. Disappointment furrowed my brows because she wasn’t exactly answering my question.

“Well, I hope to see you later,” I smiled.

“Yeah, look me up some night,” Renee said and headed into the room toward the door I’d noticed earlier.

When I got to my car, I pulled out my cell phone and dialed an old contact.

“Hi Michael, how’s it going?”

“Bridget, what the hell! I haven’t heard from you in ages.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. But I need a favor.”

“Of course, you do.”

“I want to know the details behind a club in New Orleans. It’s called the Ragnarök Club off Bourbon Street.”

“You're going to owe me!”

“Take that hunk of husband out on me, okay. I’ll Venmo you some cash.” I smiled and disconnected the call.

Michael owned a private investigation firm and was good at finding dirt. He lived in Dallas and we’d worked together over the years.

“Tell me your secrets,” I said to the empty car as I gazed up at the back of the building.

Chapter 10

Loki

My brothers and I rode out to Lafayette to check out a tip Roar got from one of his buddies. Some idiot by the name of Devon Dupree or DD for short was running his mouth about how good he and his boys were at taking things that didn’t belong to them. He swore up and down that if anyone was willing to sponsor him, he could get some guys together and prove a big payday. Trouble was, DD had no actual cash on him and he sucked at cards. Odds are he was one of our missing Rogue Boy douchebags who’d escaped the torching of their main hang out in the 7th Ward. Whiskey and Roar went to the bar to pay off the debt and collect him. He was now tied to a post in an old barn about 20 miles from Lafayette. The missing guns needed to be found.

“DD, where are your boys?” Whiskey spat on the dirt floor.

“I’m not telling ya nothin’, man,” DD's eyes were frantic.

“Do you want to live?” Bones asked from the side, leaning up against a rusted-out tracker, looking bored.

DD struggled against the rope, grimacing when the fibers rubbed against one of his open cuts. Whiskey had beat the shit out of him before stringing him up against the post.

“I’ve never heard of the Rogue Boys. You’ve got the wrong guy,” he squeals.

“Who said anything about the Rogue Boys?” Taz asked, taking out his hunting knife, and getting closer to him. As we stood there waiting, Taz drew the knife’s blade down DD’s check, a shallow stream of blood left in its wake.

“I can earn money for y'all. Just cut me loose and we can work something out,” DD cried.

Boa laughed and cracked his knuckles, “yeah, so what’s a dipshit like you gonna do for us?”

“I’ve got connections. I can get you the best drugs this side of the border.” DD’s eyes were wide, his voice quivering just enough to know he was barely hanging on. But I’d give him credit for trying. It was boring when they didn’t even try.

“This is the way it's going to go. You’re gonna tell us where the missing crates are, who you left the ward with, and where they were headed. If you do that, then we’ll think about letting you go,” I said casually, not moving from my spot 20 feet away from him.

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