Bond of Darkness Read Online Free PDF Page B

was certainly strong enough to take over New Orleans, if he wanted to.
    "And we can silence those drunken riots in the West Texas oilfields."
    "The mesnaderos will shut them down within a few days, once we're back," the Frenchman agreed, and their steps faded down the hallway.
    Celeste sagged against the door. Oilfield riots meant less oil and less money. Don Rafael couldn't remain here—and she'd hate living in Texas.
    She flung herself across the bed and tried to think.
    No, the only answer was to persuade him to move here, which meant binding him into a permanent alliance with the New Orleans patron.
    Monsieur Armand, who couldn't even manage to throw a Mardi Gras ball? Bah!
    Plus, the idiot barely controlled New Orleans and its suburbs, not even as far as Baton Rouge, only eighty miles away. All of Texas and Oklahoma bowed down before Don Rafael, more than three hundred thousand square miles.
    A New Orleans patron would probably have to hold everything from Louisiana east and south of the Ohio River, in order to have an esfera Don Rafael would consider impressive. And worthy of forming a lifetime bond with.
    She rolled over onto her back and flung an arm over her eyes. But if she had such an esfera, she'd have a damn good chance—if not a certainty—of claiming Don Rafael for herself, for always. And ending this cycle of loneliness forever.
    Her jaw set hard. She could do it. After all, she'd seen it done often enough in New Orleans that she'd memorized the techniques by now.
    But every successful candidate for patron always started with an absolutely deadly alferez. A killing machine to make everybody else fall back in fear…
     
    Georges Devol blinked, forcing a little water out of his eyes, and tried to kick. The sun had long since set, making this a good time for traveling.
    His right leg was no damn good with two bullets in it—but nobody's legs were worth much against the Mississippi, even when they were healthy. It was more important to travel far and keep the damn warden guessing as long as possible, no matter what.
    He'd escaped Angola by turning the tables on a guard during an affair. The fool had thought he controlled Devol but had wound up serving him. Now he'd certainly keep his mouth shut as long as possible about Georges' methods and route, just to save himself.
    Georges had to be close to the Mouth of Passes, where he could catch an oceangoing ship.
    He was cold, so very cold. Probably because it was spring and the river was in flood. Hopefully not because the guards had gotten lucky and done more than nick him in the side.
    He turned his head sideways, trying for a little pocket of air inside the waterlogged tree branches. But he overbalanced the fragile wood and it dipped, sending his mouth into the muddy river.
    He spat and choked, gasping for air, and his stomach spasmed again. Water lit a trail of flame inside his nose.
    Stars spun behind his eyes, fading into blackness, while his chest's objections eased into slow flutters then stilled. The bayou had never seemed farther away.
    "Man overboard!"
    What? Police wouldn't be that polite.
    He blinked, barely aware of the greedy river spilling over his head and shoulders. A light danced over the water and caught the tree, casting a net around him.
    He'd be warm again, back in the pen. Back on Death Row.
    Yeah, and they'd ask him again to be sorry for killing all those
respectable
women. Like hell. His only regret was he hadn't done it sooner. Or meaner.
    Now, scarlet women—those beautiful bitches were something different and far, far better. He especially loved how the top-drawer bitches could have those high-powered SOBs pleading for a moment of their time. Hell, they were even immune from being sent to Death Row if they caused trouble.
    He tried to push the tree away but it bobbed, catching his arms, dragging him down.
    Water swept over him and he began to fight, thrashing, clawing, kicking, heedless of any injuries.
    Suddenly, somebody caught him