“I had the damn place leveled.”
“Building’s different. Place is the same.”
“Fuck.” I should have bought the land and made sure it wasn’t rebuilt.
The realization of where we were was as if a dam had broken. Memories I had kept at bay gushed into my thoughts.
Over seven years ago, I’d accompanied my father to this same location. Being outside of New Orleans city limits was agreed upon by both my father and Isaiah Boudreau. My father hadn’t been the one to call the meeting, but he knew once it was called, he needed to attend. The factions of discontent in the different wards were growing. The issue at hand had been a supplier of Molly to the city. Molly was the street name for ecstasy. People came to New Orleans to have a good time. Ecstasy was a popular drug especially with the younger tourists who were willing to pay more than necessary for it. The main supply had been arriving via cargo ship to our busy ports on a regular basis. Unfortunately, the drug lord who was our biggest supplier had been arrested on a litany of rigged charges while in the US.
No one dared interrupt that chain while Félix was in control, but with his arrest, there were upheavals in his ranks. Those events opened a window for new suppliers. A few of the bigger gangs saw that as an opportunity to avoid the middleman and work directly with the new suppliers, leaving my father and Boudreau out of the mix.
Out of the mix meant out of the money.
A few of the smaller gangs in the Tenth and Eleventh Wards decided they wanted in on the rebellion, so they organized under an umbrella of sorts, calling themselves the 110ers gang. The whole way of independent thinkers was getting out of hand. Ramseses and Boudreaux ruled for a reason. They kept each individual subset in check. The recently established 110ers had to be an example to other gangs on why our families were essential within the chain of command.
Abraham and Isaiah chose to not extend their protective cloak to the 110ers. They wanted independence, they got it. That joint decision opened the 110ers to more than they expected.
In reality, Abraham and Isaiah’s decision killed two birds.
It gave the city a perceived win on their fight on crime, the mayor’s NOLA FOR LIFE project, and it cut the 110ers off at the pass, reinforcing to others why it was important to keep the status quo with our families.
With our protection gone, the multi-agency gang unit from the Orleans Parish district attorney’s office received a sweeping fifty-one count racketeering indictment against fifteen members of the 110ers. The indictment wasn’t limited to their drug activity. It also connected members to over ten murders that they may or may not have been responsible for and money-laundering charges.
Rumors began to fly.
While the other gang leaders fell in line, there were rumblings and questions.
Some of the non-indicted members of the 110ers went back to their smaller gangs where there were questions about money. Many assumed it was the multi-agency taskforce that confiscated the cash; the staggering amounts rumored to have been under their control were never listed on any reports. Accusations and fighting ensued between the surviving members, pitting small gangs against one another.
I hadn’t had a hand in the disappearance of funds, yet I’d been involved in starting the rumblings. Never had I expected for things to happen as rapidly as they did, but when Boudreau called the meeting here, I knew it was my time to act. The city was ripe and ready for a coup. The people were riled up and itching for something new.
I was that something new.
The last time I was on the property where our SUV was now parked, I walked away as the new king of New Orleans. Taking a deep breath, I fought the sense of déjà vu.
“Ingalls and Boudreau are already here,” I said. The evidence was the trackers.
“This feels like a trap,” Leon said.
“I can’t walk away if Emma is in there.”
“Wait for the rest of our men.” Leon looked at his phone. “Ten minutes and we’ll outnumber them.”
“Unless they have more men on the inside,” I said.
Leon was right. This was not how I normally did business.
Since I’d found Emma, nothing was normal.
Leon and I with two others of my men entered from the rear near the loading docks. There were four other Ramses men entering from the front. The door moved silently as if it were well maintained, yet I’d learned during research while in the parking lot that the warehouse had been rebuilt only three years ago and had remained without a tenant.
The area we entered would serve as storage for shipping if it were in use. Thankfully, the sun had risen. Windows near the ceiling allowed the early morning light to enter. Rays of sunshine shone down, creating pillars of light containing particles of dust floating through the air.
Our shoes on the concrete floor echoed in the nearly seven hundred thousand square feet of emptiness. There wasn’t a corner that was hidden as we scanned the perimeter.
“Are we sure they’re here?”
“No, boss, just their cars.”