Laurent Boudreaux is finally within reach.
And today, I start closing my fist.
TWELVE
Ridge
Neutral Ground: In New Orleans, the “neutral ground” refers to the strip of land dividing opposing sides of a street. The term originated in the early 19th century along Canal Street, which separated French and American factions of the city. Intended as shared territory, it became a place where no one officially held power—only temporary advantage. Deals were made there under the guise of civility, while conflict waited just beneath the surface.
I stepinto the outdoor café just before six. The air is thick with fried dough and chicory coffee, heavy with humidity even at this hour. The place is nearly empty, the kind of quiet that only exists before the city fully wakes.
By midday, it’ll be packed shoulder to shoulder with tourists. Right now, it belongs to locals who don’t sleep much and men who don’t like being overheard.
Vin is already seated near the back, positioned with a clear view of the entrance. He watches me approach without moving, eyes sharp, taking stock. It’s habit. Training. Not distrust.
“Ridge,” he says quietly, gesturing to the chair across from him.
“Vin.”
To anyone else, it’s just two men meeting for coffee. The tension between us says otherwise. I sit, restless, already thinking ahead to Laurent.
“You sure about this?” Vin asks, voice low. Not challenging. Measured. “At this stage.”
I don’t answer right away.
“Laurent agreed to meet,” he continues. “Napoleon House. Neutral ground. He’s bringing his own security. We’ll have coverage inside and out. Two of ours already watching the place, making sure he doesn’t try anything before the meeting.”
“Good.”
I tap my fingers against the table, the rhythm grounding. “You don’t like this.”
Vin’s mouth tightens. “I don’t trust him. Whatever he tells you won’t be the truth. You know that.”
“I want to see his face when he lies,” I say. “I want to hear how he does it.”
Vin holds my gaze. “Or you could put him down and be done.”
“That’s not the point.”
He exhales slowly. “Then what is?”
“I want him to understand what he took,” I say evenly. “And I want to know what he thinks he gained.”
Vin nods once. “We’ll have three on the street, two out back. If it turns, we intervene. But you need to keep him talking. Don’t push him out the door before you get what you came for.”
I lean back. “I’m not looking for closure.”
“I know.” His tone stays calm. “I’m looking at risk.”
Then he says it.
“You already have leverage.”
The word lands wrong. I don’t want her used like that.
“The girl?—”
“Coco,” I cut in before I think better of it.
