Page 4 of Gerard

“Need a way to dispose of him so’s nobody finds any part of him,” Deep Voice said.

A loud grunting sounded close by.

“It’ll take dern near forever ta get ’im to da bayou. I vote fer tossin’ him in da pigpen. Dey’ll clean him up, bones ’n all.”

Fat raindrops plopped onto the back of his head and neck.

“Better hurry before it starts rainin’ pitchforks and hammer handles,” Cajun Man said.

A loud honking sounded.

“What the hell?” Deep Voice cried out.

More honking and flapping wings whipped up the air around them as rain began to fall in earnest.

“Get this goddamn bird off me,” Deep Voice yelled.

“Tryin’,” Cajun grunted. “Biggest damned goose ever I saw.”

The goose’s honk was cut off in a distressed squeak.

Deep Voice grunted. “Die, motherfucker.”

“You done broke her neck,” Cajun Man said. “She be one dead goose.”

The bird dropped beside him and lay still, the feathers brushing softly against his arm.

“Can’t leave it by the pigpen. It’ll draw attention to the hogs ’fore they’ve had a chance ta do their work,” Deep Voice said.

“Should carry it on back to da farmhouse,” Cajun Man said. “Maybe she won’t look farther afield.”

“I’ll let you do that. We been here long enough,” Deep Voice said, “and makin’ enough noise to wake the dead.”

“Iffn’ we don’t leave outta here soon,” Cajun Man said, “Bernie’ll be up and loadin’ our backsides wit’ buckshot.”

“Check fer a pulse,” Deep Voice said. “Don’t want no part of murder.”

“Da goose or da dude?”

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” Deep Voice growled. “Get the fuck outta my way.”

As someone pressed thick fingers to the base of his throat, the stars blinked out one last time.

“Dead as a doornail,” Deep Voice said. “Don’tcha know that whoever shot this guy will be looking for that bag.”

“Not just worried ’bout da shooters,” Cajun Man said. “Da Popo might decide to come dis way lookin’ fer the dead guy and the bag.”

“Fuck,” Deep Voice said. “Help me strip him and get him into the pigpen.”

As he faded into death, his last thought was of the irony of his life and death. He’d loved bacon, sometimes consuming a complete package at a time for breakfast. How fitting he’d be consumed by a hog that would someday end up as bacon on someone else’s breakfast table.

Chapter 1

Gerard Guidry ordered a beer, burger and fries at the Crawdad Hole Bar and Grill and settled back, ready to relax and celebrate the grand opening of the Bayou Brotherhood Protectors.

Once the waitress returned with a round of mugs full of foaming beer, the men of his new team all lifted their glasses.

“To new beginnings,” Landry Laurent said.

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