Page 48 of Gator

“There was never a plan to do anything else.”

CHAPTER THIRTY

“Why do we have to board a boat?” asked Hanz.

“Do you want to get to G.R.I.P.?” asked Cade. Hanz and Messina stared at the giant and nodded. “Then shut up and follow orders.”

Messina gave Hanz a nod, tapping his phone. He hit the button for GPS and tracking, but it wasn’t functioning. A long, dark shadow fell over them, and the two men looked up, seeing Noah.

“There is no signal on the river.”

“I’ve been on rivers before where there is a signal,” said Messina in Italian, staring at Hanz. Noah looked at the man, cocking his head. “The Viking doesn’t know Italian.”

“The Viking speaks many languages,” said Noah calmly in flawless Italian. “There is no signal out here.” Hanz stared at the man, then back at Messina.

“What do we do now?” asked Messina.

“Try to remember which direction we go,” he whispered.

With Remy at the helm, and Bodhi, Cade, and Noah watching their guests, they sped along the Mississippi River first. The biting cold hit their cheeks, and the men smiled at the wind. They’d endured much worse, but apparently, their guests hadn’t.

“Why are we sitting outside? Why don’t you have a cover for this boat?” asked Messina.

“We don’t need one. It’s a beautiful day,” said Bodhi.

The men could only shake their heads, flipping up the collars of their suit coats. When Remy veered off of the mighty Mississippi, the men thought they were close. They were not. He took the cutoff to Bayou Gauche, avoiding New Orleans, leaving the men more confused. With the weather cooperating with clouds and gusts of wind, they barely even looked up to see where they were.

Bodhi wondered if the weather were somehow Mama Irene’s doing, but he dared not question it.

When they turned into Bayou Little Lafitte, Remy made sure to take every small outlet, river, bayou, and turn-off he could. There was no way these men would find their way back. He ducked around the island mansion, avoiding that end of the Robicheaux property completely. When G.R.I.P. came into view, he slowed, and the men looked up.

“It looks like a fucking steel fortress,” said Messina. Hanz looked around, seeing only swamp water and cypress trees. They looked like dead giants, weeping over the water in the shadow of the clouds.

“Where the hell is this?” asked Hanz.

“This is G.R.I.P.,” said Bodhi.

Magnus tied off the boat, and the three men stepped out, waiting for the other two to do the same. Their slick dress shoes couldn’t grip the fiberglass of the boat, and both men had to crawl on their knees onto the dock. By the time they stood, the others were already well ahead of them, waiting for the gates to open. It was dark, and everything seemed to be covered in large black tarps. Hanz couldn’t see anything.

“Mr. Metzger? My name is Doug Graham. We spoke on the phone. And this is?”

“Mr. Patrino,” smiled Messina, holding out his hand.

“We don’t tolerate liars here, Mr. Messina. It might serve you well to know that. We know everyone who steps foot on our property.” Doug frowned at the man as his face burned red with anger and embarrassment. “If you lie to me again, you’ll be removed. Permanently.”

“Hanz,” whispered Messina.

“That’s not a way to reach out to a guest,” smiled Hanz. “After all, I’m going to be a part of this company soon.”

“No. You’re not,” said Doug. He took two steps back, and a group of men appeared out of the darkness, walking toward the two men.

Cam, Luke, Hex, and Eric stood alongside Gator, who practically growled at the other men. Behind them were the rest of VG. On the floor were the older members, the new seniors as they were called. On the catwalks above, the next generation. It was a sight to behold. Unless you were Hanz Metzger.

“Are you trying to intimidate us?” frowned Hanz.

“No. I’m going to kill you,” said Gator. Messina took a half step back, hitting the Viking from the boat. He stopped and looked at Hanz.

“This is absurd! I’m here on legitimate business,” he cried.

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