Quarter to Midnight (A New Orleans Novel Book 1)

FUCKING HELL. LAMONT shoved his fingers through his hair, too frustrated for words. This day couldn’t have gone much worse.

He’d dialed the defense attorney nine times in two hours, all the calls going to voice mail. If Hodges didn’t pick up, he was paying the lawyer a personal visit to find out why.

But the man finally did answer. “For fuck’s sake. Do you know the meaning of patience?”

“No,” Lamont answered flatly, walking over to the window. “Where is Eckert?”

“In lockup. He’s been booked. He’ll be arraigned tomorrow morning. I’ve only just returned from the police station. Eckert said nothing, not to the cops or to me. All the cops have on him is possession of illegal firearms and aiming his gun at another driver who cut him off.”

Stunned, Lamont could only gape for a few seconds. “He did what?”

“A truck cut him off when he was trying to exit, just before the bridge. He aimed his handgun at the driver of the truck, who then braked. It was too late for Eckert to do anything but cross over the bridge, where the cops arrested him. One of the cops saw him pull the handgun, but the person he aimed at kept going. It was a really boneheaded move, but we’ll claim road rage. With a plea deal, he’ll walk away with a misdemeanor.”

Because Hodges didn’t know that he’d hired Eckert to kill the Morrow kid. Nobody did but Eckert. He’d have to make sure the man knew to hold his tongue.

Lamont stared out of the window, watching the hundreds of tourists filling the streets, while he tried to think. “Why would he pull a gun? That doesn’t make any sense.”

“I agree. It’s not like he knew the driver or anything. It was some random person in a pickup truck.”

Pickup truck. Where had he heard about a pickup truck recently?

Oh. Right. “What color was the truck?”

“Red. Why?”

Because the lady PI who Gabe Hebert hired drives a red pickup truck. It could have been a coincidence. But if it hadn’t been a coincidence . . . If the PI had been following Xavier Morrow . . .

But why would she have followed Xavier? How would she have known Xavier was driving to New Orleans?

Unless Morrow had called Gabe.

Or was she following Paul Lott’s white BMW?

Did she know Paul Lott? If so, how?

What had Lott done that had gotten him killed?

Had Paul Lott told Gabriel Hebert what they’d done? Is that why Hebert had hired the PI?

Too many questions.

“Just curious,” Lamont replied mildly. “I like to have the facts.”

“Okay.” Hodges didn’t sound convinced, but Lamont couldn’t have cared less.

“I may be in the courtroom tomorrow.” Lamont needed Eckert to see his face so that he could warn him against saying a damn word.

Hodges didn’t miss a beat. “I don’t know you. Never seen you before.”

“Thank you.”

Now Hodges hesitated. “And now we’re even? You’ll get rid of the photos?”

The things a man would do to escape the ire of a betrayed wife.

Unfortunately, a lot of things.

Lamont should know. That was how he’d gotten into this mess in the first place.

“We’re square. It’ll be like those photos never existed.”

“Good enough.”

He stayed at the window after Hodges ended the call and considered his next steps. With both Eckert and Stockman gone, he needed to find someone else to get rid of the Morrow kid. Or do it myself.

That was an option. For now, he needed to know more about the lady PI who’d been hired by Gabe Hebert.

Margaret Sutton. He’d already googled her and read the circumstances around the killing of her brother-in-law. Jackass was right—it did sound like her cop friends had minimized her role to self-defense.

It did indicate that she was willing to kill, though. He wouldn’t underestimate her, especially if she’d been the one to keep Cornell Eckert from following Xavier Morrow into the city. At least he knew where they’d be.

Sutton worked for Burke Broussard, who was, unfortunately, unbribable.

He’d left the force rather than get involved in anything dirty.

Lamont had always wondered why Broussard’s boss had allowed him to simply walk away. There was a story there and one day he’d find out what happened. Today, though, he was more interested in Broussard’s staff. If it had been Sutton’s truck today, it meant that she was one step ahead of where she should be.

He’d include her in the next hit.

He would have left the lady PI to Jackass, but Jackass’s plans had been blown apart today, too. Whoever had killed Paul Lott had been arrested in the Quarter that afternoon. It had been all over the news.

“At least no one can connect that shitshow to me,” he murmured.

It had been a long day. He needed to get home. It was unlikely, but Eckert might be held without bail. If that happened, Lamont would have to find a replacement in the notebook he kept in his home safe.

He sighed. Joelle would be at home. She’d want to talk about Ashley, whom he’d had transferred to a colleague’s office. Ashley had been

devastated because the move had been a demotion. He’d had to promise to make it up to her. He’d already sent her an emerald necklace as an apology.

He had an identical necklace in his pocket for Joelle. She’d force him to view whatever surveillance footage she’d taken, and he’d do so. He’d even pretend to be sorry. He’d cry and give her the necklace. She’d pretend to forgive him and then take the necklace.

And they’d go on as if nothing had happened, leaving Lamont to focus on his real problems.

If the judge granted Eckert bail tomorrow, he’d likely be free before lunch, and if he was still willing, Lamont would put him back on Xavier Morrow. Eckert might even insist on it. Hit men were often weird that way.

They had an interesting code of ethics and a real sense of pride in their work.

If Eckert refused, he’d find someone else. He had a whole list of possibilities, after all.

With a last look at the throngs of people crowding the streets of the Quarter, he turned to clean off his desk, dialing James as he walked. “I’ll be down in five minutes to head for home.”

“Yes, sir.”

The Quarter, New Orleans, Louisiana

TUESDAY, JULY 26, 6:30 P.M.

Molly flipped the whiteboard after they’d cleaned it, revealing a bulletin board with their schedules and menus from various takeout restaurants attached with thumbtacks. Then she and Gabe took their seats, Gabe taking her hand and holding on tight. He darted a concerned glance at Xavier before clearing his expression. Molly knew that he was worried about Xavier, too, which was miles away from how he’d felt about the young man that morning.

The silence was broken by Willa Mae. “Does Xavier need a lawyer?”

Burke shook his head. “I don’t think so. As long as he doesn’t volunteer any information.”

Cicely turned to her friend. “If things go wrong, will you represent him?”

“You know I will.” Willa Mae held out one hand. “Smallest you’ve got.”

Cicely dug into her purse, producing a dollar bill. “Thank you.”

Willa Mae took the money and hugged Cicely to her. “He’s your son and you’re my best friend. Plus, he’s kind of grown on me after all these years.”

“And I mow your yard,” Xavier said, his smile falling a little flat. The young man was scared and, while Molly hated to see it, she certainly understood it.

Being the one who’d pulled the trigger on an attacker was not as exciting as everyone seemed to think. There was still guilt. But Xavier wasn’t alone any more than she had been when she’d killed Chelsea’s husband.

“Thank you, Willa Mae,” Molly said. “What kind of law do you practice?”

Burke had told her that Willa Mae Collins was an attorney when he’d run her plates earlier that afternoon, but he hadn’t mentioned her specialty.

“Retired a few years back,” the older woman said, “but I’ve seen my share of courtrooms over the years. I was a Harris County prosecutor, then worked the other side as a public defender, so Xavier’s in good hands. Xavier, you only answer what is asked. Stick as close to yes and no answers as you can. If things look bad, I’ll call an end to things. And even if your involvement is discovered, you were well within your rights. He invaded your home. But let’s avoid a courtroom if we can, okay, boys?”

Xavier, Carlos, and Manny nodded. “Yes, ma’am,” they said in unison, even though Xavier didn’t appear to be convinced.

Quiet descended again for the next minute and a half, until Joy pushed the door open, piloting her wheelchair into the room. She backed up so that she was still in the room, but out of the main path.

Behind her was André Holmes, a Black man with a kind face and a linebacker’s shoulders. Molly had always liked him. Had always trusted him.

Today she hoped her trust was well-placed.

“Can I come in?” he asked.

Burke rose to greet him with a handshake. “I hope you have good news for us.”

“A little good, a little not so good,” André said. He looked at the group at the table and nodded. “I’m Captain Holmes, NOPD. You must be Xavier and Cicely Morrow.”

They nodded and said nothing.

André didn’t seem to be bothered by their silence. “I understand that you’re Carlos and Manny Hernandez and you, ma’am, are Willa Mae Collins? I hope that you all are recovering from the excitement this afternoon.

It had to have been scary.”

Xavier and his mother had relaxed a little on seeing Captain Holmes.

Carlos still looked ready to defend Xavier. Gabe was very, very still. Barely breathing.

Molly could feel the fine tremble of Gabe’s hand in hers. Please give us some answers, André. Please.

“We’re okay,” Xavier said, his voice a little unsteady. “It was scary, especially when I realized that the man who’d called me wasn’t Mr. Lott.”

“I can imagine.” André sat next to Burke and folded his hands on the table. “Molly, always a pleasure. And Gabe, I was so sorry to hear about your father. He was a good man and a good cop. He’ll be missed.”

“Thank you,” Gabe murmured.

“Now that introductions are done, I’ll tell you what I know so far, and then I have some questions, if that’s okay.” André waited for Xavier and his mother to nod. “All right. We have Cornell Eckert in custody. We recovered several firearms from his vehicle. None were legally registered. We haven’t yet asked him about why he was following you, Xavier. We wanted to get information out of the Paul Lott impersonator before we let Eckert know that we suspect he was hired to kill you. Eckert’s been charged with possession of illegal firearms and attempted assault, as one of my officers witnessed him pointing a handgun at Miss Sutton when she was cutting him off from following you to the exit. Molly, were you in front of him at any time?”

Molly nodded. “Yes, when we first entered the interstate from the gas station. He could have noted my license plate. I suppose he could have run my plates or had someone else do it.”

“We’re checking his phone. We were able to get him before he could toss it into the river, thanks to your heads-up, Burke.”

“Is he talking?” Burke asked.

“Nope. Lawyered himself up. LeRoy Hodges, fancy defense attorney right here in the Quarter.”

“That’s interesting,” Burke said. “Hodges usually takes the big cases.

Rich clients. Who’s paying his bill?”

“That’s one of the things we’re going to find out. That’s the good news.”

Xavier stiffened. “What’s the not so good news?”

“The driver of Paul Lott’s BMW got away.”

Protests rang out around the table. Only Molly and Gabe remained silent.

Gabe’s hand tightened on hers, squeezing so hard that it almost hurt. He’d paled, his lips a straight line. She covered their joined hands with her free hand, and he gave her a resolute nod.

He’d be okay. Molly would make sure of it.

“What the hell?” Burke was thundering.

“Oh my God,” Cicely said as Willa Mae grabbed her free hand and held it tightly.

“How did you lose him?” Carlos demanded, his arm returning to Xavier’s shoulders protectively.

“You had him surrounded,” Manny added. “By four effin’ SUVs.”

After making a sound of fear, Xavier bowed his head. “He’s going to try again.”

“Maybe,” André said. “I’m not going to sugarcoat it, Xavier. It’s not good. But we can put you all in a safe house until we find him.”

“How did he get away?” Burke asked, jaw tensed.

“We were taking him to Central Booking. Right as the officer was putting him into a patrol car, he twisted out of the officer’s hold, grabbed the officer’s gun, and shot him before disappearing into the crowd. It happened about a half hour ago. I wanted to let you know myself rather than having you hear it on the news. I’m . . . sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” Carlos asked loudly. “You’re sorry? He’s going to try to —” He cut his fury short when he saw Xavier’s terrified face.

“He knows who we are,” Xavier said, almost inaudibly. “He knows who came with me. He’ll go after my family, Captain Holmes.”

“He’s not going to find you,” Burke stated. “We’re going to hide you. No offense, André, but we’ll take care of our visitors ourselves.”

André sighed. “I figured you’d say that. But the offer is open.”

“Is the officer all right?” Molly asked, relieved when André nodded.

“He was wearing a vest, but the impact knocked him down. By the time his partner got around the car, the suspect had run around the corner where there was a tour group congregating. They couldn’t shoot without hurting bystanders.”

“No,” Cicely agreed, her voice faint. “We understand.”

“What are you doing to find him?” Gabe asked.

“We’ve sent his description to all precincts and the media and obtained security footage from the local businesses. We’re asking for anyone in the public who was taking video at the moment to contact us. Of course, a number of those videos are already online, but none of them capture his face clearly enough. He hadn’t made it to booking, so we didn’t yet have a photo.”

Carlos straightened. “I have one. I took a picture of his photo ID when he met us this morning. His picture matched his face, but the ID said Paul Lott.

He must’ve faked it.”

Both André and Burke gave Carlos nods of respect. “Send it to me,”

Burke said. “I’ll send it to André.”

“That’ll be a huge help,” André said, visibly relieved. “Thank you.”

“All those crime shows you watch came in handy for once,” Manny said, knocking his shoulder into Carlos’s.

Molly studied André’s face. “How did he ‘get away’? He was cuffed, wasn’t he?”

André looked at his hands for a moment before meeting her gaze. There was deep concern in his eyes along with a grim acceptance. “When we took him into custody, the cuffs were tight. I was there and I checked them myself.

When he was being transported, they were loose enough for him to slip free.

I’m investigating who had access to him during that time.”

“So you’ve got a rat in your department,” Carlos said flatly.

André exhaled. “I don’t know, but I’m going to find out. Now, if it’s okay, I have some questions for you.”

“That depends on what you want to know,” Willa Mae said calmly. “I’ve seen enough of these interviews bastardized into blaming the victim. Be advised that Mr. Morrow has legal representation. Me.”

André’s nod was respectful. “I understand. At this point, I’m asking questions of the victim of a home invasion, so he shouldn’t need your services.”

“Then you may proceed,” Willa Mae said. “Be aware that if you stray, I will shut you down.”

“So noted.” André turned to Xavier. “Burke said you were running from a home intruder. Do you know who he was?”

“No,” Xavier said. “I thought someone was following me yesterday.

When they tried to break in, we ran. Jumped out the window.”

“Following you how?” André asked. “On foot or by car?”

Willa Mae got up from her seat to stand behind Xavier. With a hand on his shoulder, she said, “You can answer that, hon.”

“In a car,” Xavier said. “It was a blue Camry. I didn’t get the license plate.”

André nodded. “That fits. A man arrived at the ER at Baptist Hospital in the wee hours of the night, victim of a gunshot wound to the chest. He died at ten a.m. this morning.” He lifted his brows. “Of a second gunshot wound. He was shot in his hospital bed.”

What? It was all Molly could do to keep her expression neutral. Inside she was so damn relieved that Xavier hadn’t killed the man. For his part, Xavier gaped, looking like he’d either laugh, cry, or throw up.

“Is it possible that two people broke into your house, Xavier?” André asked.

“It’s possible,” Carlos said, recovering from his shock more quickly than Xavier. “I only saw the one guy’s hands as Xavier was climbing out of the window. He was white and he had a gun.”

“He tried to grab you?” André asked.

Xavier swallowed again. “Yes. He did grab my shirt. Tried to yank me back in through the window. But I got away, climbed down the tree outside the window, and Carlos and I ran.”

“I need to ask,” André said gently. “Why didn’t you call 911 right away?”

Xavier gave him a sad look. “Because I didn’t think they’d believe me.

I’m a good student. Salutatorian of my high school class. Just graduated summa cum laude from Rice. I dress well. I’m skinny as hell. I got no muscles to beat anyone up. But some people still look at me like I’m capable of . . . anything.”

André sighed wearily. “Yeah. I know about that. All right. So, you ran away, and then you did what?”

“They called me,” Manny said. “I came to pick them up. And then Xavier called Paul Lott. Or he thought he was calling Lott. Xavier asked for Gabe’s telephone number, but the guy ignored him, which set off my fake-o-meter.

He said he’d come to get X and about seven hours later we met him in the H-E-B parking lot. That’s a grocery store in Texas.”

“Okay,” André said. “So this is what confused me. Why did you call Gabe, Xavier?”

Xavier lifted his chin. “His father was my friend. We met when I was five years old and he saved my life in Katrina.”

André’s brows lifted, and he looked at Gabe. “Yeah?”

“Yep,” Gabe said and gave Xavier a warm smile. “My father called Xavier his second son.”

None of which was a lie, Molly thought. She still was impressed with how easily the words passed through Gabe’s lips. Note to self: he can be depended on when things get dicey.

André tilted his head. “Rocky was a good man. I miss him.”

“Me too,” Xavier said.

Gabe simply nodded.

“Whose idea was it to get your mom on board?” André asked Xavier.

Xavier frowned. “The Paul Lott guy. He wanted me to tell my mom that we were headed to New Orleans. When she said he could follow us, he didn’t seem too upset.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Cicely said quietly. “I talked to him inside the Waffle House on Wallisville Road. He was not pleased but pretended that he was just fine.”

Xavier looked at his mother, eyes wide. “You never said that!”

“I didn’t want to worry you. Willa Mae, what did you think?”

“I thought the same. He was . . . weaselly. Like a kid who’s broken your best vase with a baseball and is hoping you haven’t noticed.”

“That’s pretty close,” Cicely agreed. “So, we got in the minivan with the boys and came to find Gabe. Why?”

André lifted one big shoulder. “Just trying to understand. I mean, I would have assumed that he intended to kill you, Xavier.” He made an apologetic face when everyone on the other side of the table shuddered. “Sorry. Again, I’m just trying to understand.”

Molly got where André was going. “If he didn’t kill you straight out, his goal must have been to get you to New Orleans alive. That would have been easier to do if you went peacefully.”

André’s gaze swept all of their faces, then he clasped his hands. “Do you have any questions for me?”

“First, that you let us know when you’ve discovered who hired these men to harm my son,” Cicely said. “Because there’s no doubt in my mind that they would have.”

“No doubt,” André agreed. “Why, though? What motive would anyone have to hurt him? I’d say it could have been a random thing were it not for Mr. Eckert. From what we know now, someone tried to get you, failed, and a new hit man was called. Why is someone working so hard to get you, Xavier?”

Xavier shrugged. “Like I said, I’m just a premed student. I work, I study, I volunteer with Meals on Wheels, and I play video games with Carlos.”

Again, no lie there. He never said that he didn’t know. Just implied it.

Molly kept her expression impassive but smiled on the inside. Good job, Xavier.

“Did the man posing as Paul Lott go into your house?” André asked.

Molly glanced at Burke, who was watching André through narrowed eyes.

“Why do you ask that?” Burke asked.

“Because after I called the Houston police to find out what they knew, they got a warrant to search the Morrow home.”

Both Xavier and his mother gasped. “What?” Xavier demanded. “How?”

André met Xavier’s eyes. “Partly the reason that you feared calling 911.

Partly because the white guy who died was shot by someone else while in the hospital. You have an alibi for that time frame. You were on the road with your mother and all these other folks, so you’re not a suspect. The man who shot him showed the hospital front desk a fake ID, and he may have worn a disguise. Must have also had a silencer, because no one heard the shot.

Houston PD is looking for him now. The blood type found in your house matched that of the dead white guy. They’ll follow up with DNA to do a positive ID. We took prints from the BMW SUV and we’ll compare them to the prints Houston pulled from your house. I repeat, you have an alibi for the time of his murder, and you’re not a suspect. Breathe, Xavier.”

Xavier sucked in a harsh breath. “What about running and not calling 911?”

“Not a crime,” André said. “You were afraid for your life. And even if you had shot the guy, it would have been self-defense since he broke into your home. Houston PD found the door he busted to get in. Not that I’m saying that you shot him. Just if you did.”

Xavier’s chest rose and fell as he breathed deeply. And said nothing more.

Thank goodness.

André turned to Gabe. “I’ll be in touch about the break-in at your father’s house.”

Their Houston visitors turned to Gabe with matching glares. “You never said anything about your dad’s house getting broken into,” Xavier said indignantly.

Gabe blew an exhale up his forehead, making his curls dance. “I forgot.

Hell. So much has happened and it was only discovered last night. I just . . .

forgot.”

“So did I,” Molly admitted. “Someone broke in and trashed Rocky’s house. Slashed cushions and destroyed paintings. They made an awful mess.”

“Your mama’s paintings?” Cicely asked, one hand splayed over her heart.

“Oh no.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Gabe said, his shoulders slumping. “Not much left.”

André pushed to his feet. “I’ll be getting out of your hair now. Burke knows how to reach me if you think of anything else or want to take us up on the safe house.”

Burke rose. “You’ll update me on the search for Paul Lott’s imposter?”

André met Burke’s gaze directly. “I will. Heads-up, I expect Houston PD

to be sending someone to talk to your guests. I told them that Xavier and Carlos were the victims here. They might be a little heavier handed in their interrogation approach.”

“We’ll be ready,” Willa Mae said, leaving no question in anyone’s mind that it would be so.

André shot her a smile. “Call me if you need any assistance.” He hesitated. “I considered Rocky a friend. Helping you is honoring him, so I hope you’ll trust me if things go sideways.” He lifted a shoulder. “More sideways, anyway. ’Night, folks.” He departed, followed by Joy, who pulled the door closed behind them.

Xavier immediately turned, pressing his forehead to his mother’s shoulder. He was shaking, poor kid. He’d held it together like a pro. Molly didn’t think she could have done any better.

Retaking his seat, Burke held up one hand for them to be quiet and then nodded when his phone buzzed a minute and a half later. “Joy says he’s gone.

I gotta say, I was not expecting that the dead white guy had been shot by someone else.”

Xavier lifted his head, revealing the tears streaking his face. “I didn’t kill him,” he whispered. “Thank God.”

Molly breathed her own sigh of relief. She hadn’t wanted Xavier to carry that burden for the rest of his days, whether he’d been justified or not.

Cicely, Willa Mae, and Carlos all hugged him, Carlos looking over at Burke as he did so. “André seems all right.”

Burke smiled. “He is. And he’s right about the self-defense. But it doesn’t look like it’s going to be an issue.”

“They’ll have the bullet that was in the dead guy when he got to the ER,”

Carlos protested. “It won’t match the second bullet.”

“Then we need to make sure that the gun that fired the first bullet isn’t found,” Burke said with a shrug. “Molly?”

“I’ll take care of it,” she promised. “Now we need to get these folks to your place, Burke.”

“Not my place,” Burke said. “Not my main house, anyway. We’ll use my camp. I didn’t tell André because I didn’t want him to accidentally tell the wrong person where they’ll be.”

Cicely looked uncertain. “A camp? Like . . . a tent?”

Molly chuckled. “No, it’s a cabin, but folks down the bayou call their places camps. It’s a really nice place and isolated enough that anyone coming for you will be seen long before they get close enough to hurt you. It’s on the bayou bank, perfect for fishing and relaxing, but it’s also got a satellite for Wi-Fi and a state-of-the-art security system.”

“Plus, the deed isn’t in my name,” Burke added. “I’ve only taken a few people out there, so it would take the fake Paul Lott a while to even discover that it exists. I’ll take you there myself and stay with you until I can assign sufficient security.”

“I can make sure you stay fed,” Gabe offered. “I’ll get some groceries so that I can make you some meals.”

“I can cook,” Cicely said, brows raised. “I’m no fancy chef, but I can feed us.”

Carlos winced. “Oh, man. You dissed her cooking. This isn’t gonna end well.”

Gabe winced as well, clearly not having thought his offer through. “No offense meant to your cooking, ma’am, but I know that I’m going to be a wreck without something to keep my hands busy. So please allow me to supplement your cooking as long as you’re here?”

Cicely smiled at him. “That, I can understand. Thank you. We accept.”

“Yes,” Carlos hissed, fist pumping the air. “We’re going to feast like kings.”

Manny bowed his head with a sigh. “Our mother raised us better, I can promise you this.”

Gabe’s mouth curved in a genuine smile at the brotherly exchange. “I assume Molly knows how to get to wherever you’re going?”

“I do,” she confirmed. She hoped Gabe didn’t mind boats, because that was the only way to get to Burke’s camp. “We’ll take care of all of you while we search for this guy, too. I trust André to do everything in his power to find this guy, but he’s clearly got issues in his department, so we’ll make finding him our priority.”

“Thank you,” Cicely said fervently. “Thank you all so much.”

“Yes.” Xavier swallowed hard, his eyes suddenly glassy with tears.

“When everything went down last night, I didn’t know what to do. Rocky said you’d help, Gabe, that we could trust you. He was right. So thank you all so much—for the protection, the place to stay, the investigation, the food.

Thank you for believing me in the first place. Just . . .” His voice broke.

“Thank you.”

“You’re my dad’s second son,” Gabe said, his own voice gone gruff.

“And none of this is your doing, Xavier. None of this is your fault. He would have wanted us to make sure you were okay. It’s the least we can do.”

Tulane-Gravier, New Orleans, Louisiana

TUESDAY, JULY 26, 6:45 P.M.

“Why is traffic at a standstill?” Lamont grumbled from the back seat of the town car. “Surely the tourists have to go eat or sleep or fuck each other or something. This is far worse than yesterday. We’ve barely moved ten feet in twenty minutes.”

“The road’s closed up ahead by the police department, sir,” James said, his tone unusually tense. “Cop got shot. Shooter’s on the run.”

Lamont blinked. “I didn’t hear anything about that.”

“It’s been on the news, sir. My wife said she saw it online. Tourists posted videos of the shooting. Happened about fifteen minutes before you came down to the car. Traffic was bad before, but this road closure just snarled everything up.”

A bad feeling skittered along his spine. “How was the cop shot?”

“Some prisoner was being put in a squad car. He got loose, stole the cop’s gun, shot the cop, and ran. The cops just did a press conference.” He held up his phone. “I’ve been checking the reports. Have to say, knowing a gunman is roaming out here somewhere is making me nervous.”

“I don’t blame you.” He unlocked his phone and searched the news. Sure enough, everything James had said seemed true, but there was no word as to who this guy was.

If it was Eckert, that would be okay. But that was unlikely. Hodges had said that Eckert was already in lockup.

I don’t think even Eckert could escape from there. Not without a lot of help.

Reluctantly, he typed a text to Jackass. Who is the gunman?

It took a few minutes for a reply to come through. None of your concern.

Well, fuck. That just pissed him off. Who? Is it your guy?

He thought of the two arrests made that day. Eckert and the man who’d killed Paul Lott. Eckert was in lockup, but he didn’t know where the other guy was.

And if his gut was right, neither did NOPD. Is your guy secure? he added.

Another few minutes passed as he stared at his phone, willing Jackass to answer.

Yes. Stop bothering me. I’m busy.

You’re busy? You’ll be dead as soon as I can arrange it. Jackass really was named appropriately. Where Is He?!?

Not your concern.

You fucking asshole. TELL ME NOW.

Or what?

Lamont gritted his teeth and punched Jackass’s number.

The man picked up on the third ring. “What part of ‘I’m busy’ can’t you understand?” he snapped.

Lamont glanced at James. The driver was focused on the road, but he still had to be careful. “How did this happen?”

Jackass sighed. “I have my ways, Monty. I got my guy out. I’d be more concerned about the state of your own house, if I were you.”

He glowered. “What does that mean?”

“It means that your boy Eckert has a message for you. He knows who was driving the red truck and he knows he was made. He says that you set him up to get arrested, and that he’d better make bail or he’s gonna sing like a fucking canary. La, la, la, La mont.”

“He won’t.” Lamont was sure of that. If Eckert squealed, he’d be pleading guilty to murder for hire and that was a federal offense.

“If you say so. But . . . Well, clearly you know best.”

The mocking tone had Lamont grinding his teeth until his jaw ached. “But what?” he snarled.

James cocked his head but went back to watching the road. Because he was a smart man.

“He just seems like the type to burn everything down.”

Unfortunately, that was accurate. He could see Eckert taking him down, too, if he felt backed into a corner. And if he’s more afraid of the Feds than he is of me. “Thank you for the heads-up.”

“You’re welcome, Monty. What are friends for?”

More mocking. Damn him. “Indeed. What will your employee do?”

The mocking disappeared, replaced with calm, cold certainty. “Whatever I tell him to do.”

Lamont swallowed his snarl. “Which will be what?”

“Not your concern. But I’d stay away from Rocky’s boy’s house if you like your skin where it is on your body rather than burned to a crisp. The lady PI will be with him, so two birds, one stone.”

A shiver raced down his spine and across the skin that he did want to keep uncharred. “Keep me updated.”

“Same goes, Monty.” The mocking was back. “Eckert is due in court tomorrow morning. You should do whatever it is you’re planning to do before then. I have a feeling his bail will be set sky-high. And because we’re partners, if you need help handling him, you just let me know, y’hear?” He ended the call with a chuckle.

I can’t pay Eckert’s bail. Not without answering way too many questions.

He’d convinced Hodges to represent Eckert through blackmail, pure and simple. Nothing on paper, no funds changing hands. But any money he paid for Eckert’s bail could be traced and he didn’t want any part of that. There were, however, other ways to deal with men threatening to sing like canaries.

Pity. He’d really hoped that Eckert could be his new Stockman.

Luckily, he had more names on that list in his home safe. He considered the possibilities and nodded to himself. He knew exactly who he’d tag next—

a cop who’d have access to the holding tank where Eckert was currently hanging out until his arraignment in the morning. A cop who, while not a superstar hit man like Eckert, would suffice. Because I’m accruing quite a list of targets.

He wished now that he hadn’t included Jackass in his plans to rid himself of Rocky Hebert, but he’d needed information that his partner had obtained. I should have just let him handle it. I didn’t need to be there.

Except that he’d wanted to see for himself that the job was done right.

Of course, Jackass had brought Lott with him that night. Jackass’s intention had been to keep Lott quiet by implicating him in the murder, but Lamont hadn’t really trusted him. He’d have offed Lott himself, but Jackass’s people had gotten there ahead of him.

At least Lott was no longer a worry. Unless Jackass was snipping off loose ends.

And I’m one of his loose ends.

Fear washed over him, making him angry—with himself and with his

“partner.” He looked out of his car window, wondering where Paul Lott’s killer was at that moment. I’m a sitting duck, stuck here in traffic. Someone could walk by with a gun or a sniper could be waiting on a rooftop.

Suddenly, he couldn’t breathe. Goddammit. He yanked at his tie, unbuttoned the top two buttons on his shirt collar, then sucked in a breath that physically hurt.

“I need to get some air,” he said abruptly. “Please take the car to my house. I’ll walk.” At least he’d be a moving target.

James twisted around to stare at him. “But, sir. That’s a long walk.”

“I need the exercise. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Grabbing his briefcase, he jumped from the car and started walking. If Jackass had plans to eliminate him, he wasn’t going to make it easy.

And the walk would help him clear his mind. It was time he took matters into his own hands.

Eckert had to go.

Xavier Morrow had to go.

Gabe Hebert and his lady PI had to go. And since Burke Broussard probably knew everything they did, he’d have to go, too.

And then, when he was done with all of them, his remaining partner had to go.