Cadillac Payback: Rising Tide by AJ Elmore (grave mercy .TXT) 📗

the door and along the wall, scanning what I can see of the surrounding yard in the darkness. I can see the gate from here. The problem now is that it will put me out on the street, and I’m covered in blood. There isn’t a way out of here that won’t involve the street. I have to take my chances. I’ve got to get to my bike. I holster the Desert Eagle.

My lock picks are in my pocket. My grip on them is weak as I pull them out. My hands are shaking so bad, it’s hard to even get the picks in the hole of the lock. My left arm is streaking numb.

Come on, Frederick, get it together.

I’m so close to freedom. I hear multiple cars pulling in up front. Voices are yelling.

I glance to the right and notice a toolshed. There’s a ladder leaning against the wall. Fuck this. I shove the picks back in my pocket and run to the ladder. I don’t even open it, I just lean it against the wall, and scramble up it.

It’s a long drop to the sidewalk, so I lower myself into a hang, growling through the shrieking pain, then let go. I stumble when I land, and the impact sends sharp pains through my right leg, but I don’t fall. And it doesn’t stop me from taking off at a sprint.

Luckily, there’s not much traffic in the Garden District this late, so there’s no one to see me, bloody, and running like I’m real fucking guilty of something. By the time I reach my bike, there’s a stitch in my side, and I’m damn dizzy. As I heave to catch my breath, I jerk my shirt over my head, and wind it as tight as I can around my upper arm. It’s awkward using my right hand to try to put a knot in it, but I manage to get it secured. I pull my leather jacket on over it, zip it up, and kick the bike to life.

All the money I’ve stashed, and as many guns as would fit are locked in my saddle bags. I have a backpack full of clothes. This is goodbye, Big Easy, probably forever.

As I ride toward the way out of town, I realize I still don’t feel anything. No relief or dread. Nothing. The next few days will be the test. The entire stateside operation will be in upheaval. There will be grabs for power, in-fighting, general disarray. I’m counting on it to be enough distraction that they won’t send someone to find me. My real hope is that they won’t care enough to try. For a lot of people, I’ve done them a huge favor getting rid of that kingpin. Still, they might.

I don’t even feel bad for not warning Maria what I was about to do. She might feel devastated, but her life will be better without that bitch in it. Maria is smart. She’ll adapt. Maybe she’ll run, too. Maybe she’ll try to take the throne. It’s on her now. If that’s what she really wants, it’s there to take.

The first stop I make, I’ll let Isaiah know he’s a free man. I’ll reset my phone and drop it in a trashcan. I won’t stop any time soon, though. Not until I’m far away from New Orleans.

Chapter 33 Freedom

Isaiah

I realize I’m staring down at the bag I just finished packing, and the gun Freddy gave me is idling in my hand. I keep thinking of his late night phone call. Four words.

“Abuela’s dead. You’re free.”

That’s all he said. He hung up before I could say anything. I know better than to think I’ll ever reach him at that number again. I’ll never get to thank him.

Fleetingly, I wonder how Maria is taking the news. Then I remember it doesn’t matter that much to me. This life is my past once again.

I shove the gun into the bag and zip it. I’ll have to make a decision soon. Do I go back to the Cape, to the little life I carved out for myself? I loved that life. Or I could go somewhere I don’t have to lie about my name. First things first.

When I open the door, Mona is there, poised to knock. Her gaze slides over me dressed down, and the bag hanging on my shoulder.

“What are you doing?” she asks sharply.

“Leaving.”

“You can’t leave,” she says, and cocks a hand on her hip.

“Oh yes, I can. You didn’t hear the news yet?”

Her eyes narrow, and she stares like she’ll read my thoughts if she looks at me long enough. I smirk at her, just because I know it will piss her off.

“Abuela’s dead, which means you’re on your fucking own. Good luck upholding that deal in the midst of a regime change.”

Her eyes fly wide and I can see panic set in.

“What?” she asks. Instead of sounding shitty, it comes as a hoarse whisper.

I shrug and say, “That’s cartel life. There are always enemies in the shadows, and the top is a dangerous place to be.”

I push past her with a shoulder check that’s not as hard as I’d like, pulling the door closed behind me.

“When Daddy finds out he’ll -“

I whirl on her so fast she backs up against the door. I step up so that we’re almost touching. I see a whisper of the fear she showed me right before I fucked her.

“He won’t do a goddamned thing. If you send someone after me, I’ll kill them, and then I’ll come for you. And if I ever fucking see you again, I’ll tell Daddy the truth about how you lost all that money.”

Her big blue eyes skip from me to Lucas, who is glued to his place, looking terrified. Is that me sounding so menacing?

“You think I’m bluffing?”

She shakes her head. I’m pretty sure she’s not breathing. Rage burns a hot