CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

“He’s here and he’s close,” said Trak.

Up ahead, the crowd parted, silence moving over the noise and chaos. Wilson looked above the heads and spotted the cause.

“A woman. She’s bloody,” he said, running toward her. The girl fell into his arms as he kneeled, looking at her wounds. “She’s been stabbed multiple times.”

“Where?” asked Zeke. “Where were you?”

“P-Pat O’Brien’s. Alleyway,” she said with her chattering teeth. Zeke stood and scanned the crowd, hoping to see their man.

“We’re headed to the alley,” said Jean. “Get him!”

“There!” said Trak.

He spotted the stocking cap and the terrible fake tuft of blonde hair and began running toward him. He turned, seeing the face of his pursuer, and began to run. That’s when Trak knew this man was a skilled runner. He tossed the cap aside and took off down Bourbon, dodging the crowds as he and Zeke followed.

Splitting up, they each took a side of the street and ran toward their target. He was not going to get away with this one.

“Two dead girls in the alley. One is twenty-three, the other twenty-five. Multiple stab wounds and a head wound from blunt force trauma,” said Jean.

“The other victim is alive, but barely. She’s lost a lot of blood,” said Wilson. “Zeke and Trak were pursuing down Bourbon. Whiskey and Bull? You need to hit the other end of Bourbon and work your way up. Alec, Tailor? Your team has to come from the sides. Cover Royal and Dauphine. Code? Find that bastard on camera. Do not let him get away.”

Once the third woman was taken away in the ambulance, the men began working their way in the direction of Sizemore. He was covered in blood and had thrown his wig and cap to the side. He should be easy to spot by someone.

“ Hey, cops found his car. Trunk is covered in blood. It was in the garage at the casino. He’s got no transportation now.”

“Thanks, brother. Let’s go.”

Steadily, they walked the streets, going up and down and into the alleyways. They left no opening, no entrance, no dark space unturned. There would be nowhere for Sizemore to hide. Others on the streets had seen him, and every drunken ex-footballer was certain he could nail the bastard.

The Gray Wolf men didn’t even bother to deter them. The more hunters, the more likely they could stop him. Within moments, every Gray Wolf man was on the streets of the Quarter searching for Sizemore. He wasn’t getting away this time or any time in the future.

Gaspar pointed up ahead to see Trak and Zeke taking off on Conti while the others followed.

When everyone caught up to them, they stood quietly outside the gates of St. Louis Cemetery Number 1. The storied 18 th- and 19 th -century cemetery had some of the most haunted gravesites in America, including voodoo priests and queens, witches, and pirates.

“He’s inside,” said Trak, staring at the gates. He pointed to the darkened concrete walkway, and they realized that someone in the crowd had sliced their prey. He was injured, and now they had the advantage. Ghost looked at the men and nodded, pulling his weapons.

“Two at a time. Block the gates and find him.”

Slowly, they made their way up and down the pathways of the cemetery. They were literally in a human Lego field. With the graves all above ground in concrete vaults, the hiding places that would delight any child in a game of hide and seek.

But these men had the advantage despite what Sizemore might think. They’d hunted in swamps, blizzards, floods, sandstorms, and much worse. They’d walked through minefields and cocaine manufacturing plants to get to their target. This one would be no different.

They would walk away with him, dead or alive.

Barely a sound could be heard as the men stepped carefully from one spot to the next. Even Alec and Tailor were showing their prowess by not making a sound in the cemetery.

Zeke stood on one of the vaults and stared into the darkness. With his dark clothing, dark skin and hair, it was unlikely Sizemore would see him in the black of night. On his left, he spotted movement off to the side and signaled to the others to move in that direction.

Alec and Tailor went straight to cut off his return while Trak, Cruz, and Jean broke off to circle around him. When Cruz lifted a fist, pointing to the blood on the path, they all slowed and moved carefully.

Nine caught the vision of Tailor leaning over one of the vaults. He held his fingers to his lips, and then, gripping the neck of their prey, he pulled him to his feet and held his throat between his massive hands.

Sizemore was so weak, so tired, he couldn’t fight back as the men surrounded him. Gaspar stared at the man, loathing in his eyes.

“Reverend Sizemore, we’d like to discuss your future.”