Chapter Twenty-seven

Rett

“Where is Boudreau?” I growled.

The man’s lips moved, but no words came as his head moved slowly from side to side. His light brown hair was matted with dried blood. The flesh around his wrists was raw from the coarse ropes and more blood ran down his arms.

My grip fisted his filthy shirt and pulled him forward. “I asked you a fucking question.”

“I-I don’t know where he goes. He just shows up and then he leaves.” Blood dripped from his swollen lip and the skin around his left eye was red, changing to purple and black by the minute. That eye was only a slit.

The man was looking at me with his other eye.

I didn’t give two shits about this man. He was one of the disposable, fucking a dime a dozen. New Orleans was crawling with scum willing to do dirty deeds for next to nothing or maybe in search of their next fix.

“When was the last time you saw him?”