Typical. Now his fucking dick was starting to get interested. Which wasn’t any great surprise considering how long it had been since it was anywhere near warm female flesh. Goddamn, were the others going to get here or what? Because if not, he had some ideas about what he could be doing to celebrate the end of ten years of exile. A couple of very good ideas, in fact. Like going over to the bar and introducing himself to the owner of that lovely ass, for example.

He glanced down at the watch that sat on a heavy leather strap around his wrist—a gift from Priest when he turned twenty-one. Fuck this shit. It was ten p.m. already. He had other stuff to do.

At that point a tall figure strode into the bar, the crowds near the doors instantly giving way. Blond hair, blue eyes. Ajax. The Deacon’s ex–VP and the one who’d called him out of his Louisiana swamp with the news of Priest’s death and the inheritance he, Ajax, Prince, and Cash were now heirs to. This Bourbon Street bar and the former Deacons clubhouse that was part of the property. A clubhouse that was now a fucking art gallery—of all things—and looked like it would stay that way.

His jaw tightened. Another nail in the Deacons’ coffin. Good thing he’d come armed with a crowbar.

As Ajax approached, Blue took his boots off the chair in front of him and gave it a small kick toward the other man.

“So,” Ajax said as he grabbed the chair back and sat down. He didn’t apologize for being late—Ajax never apologized for anything. “Are you ready to solve this Ministry problem?”

“Yeah, and if Prince and Cash don’t get here soon, I say we plan it without them.”

The “Ministry problem” concerned the Graveyard Ministry, a rival MC, and the evidence that the Deacons had uncovered so far pointed to them being responsible for Priest’s murder.

It hadn’t come as any great surprise to Blue. The Ministry had been trying to muscle in on Deacons territory for years before the hurricane had destroyed everything. And since the Deacons had dispersed, the rival club had spread their influence far and wide. Must have seemed like the perfect opportunity to obliterate the Deacons wholesale by taking down their president.

Motherfuckers. They weren’t going to last long if he had anything to do with it.

At that moment the phone in the pocket of his jeans buzzed. Pulling it out, he looked down at the screen. A curt text from Prince. Can’t make it tonight. Fill me in later.

Blue’s lip curled. Christ, he knew the guy hadn’t wanted to come back to New Orleans, full of excuses about some fancy-ass job in San Francisco, but didn’t he realize how important this was? Priest had been murdered, and it was up to the brothers to find out who’d done it. And extract some justice for it.

So much for brotherhood. Asshole. Well, Prince didn’t have to be part of it if he didn’t want to. Blue wasn’t enforcing shit these days—or at least, not now. All that was left was for Cash to show up—if he could bear to tear himself away from the sweet little gallery owner he’d hooked up with, that was.

A peculiar feeling turned over in Blue’s gut at the thought. Kind of like…envy. Jesus, what the hell was that about? He didn’t want an old lady. Never had. Being alone was what he did best and since he’d been away, that’s how he preferred it. No one to tell you what to do. No one to bitch about something you did that she didn’t like. Yeah, being alone suited him down to the fucking ground.

Better that than being led around by his dick like his old man, at least.

“Don’t tell me,” Ajax said, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms. “Prince isn’t coming.”

“No.” Blue put his phone away. “His royal fucking majesty requests that we fill him in later.”

“Cash?”

“Yo.” The guy materialized out of the crowd at the sound of his name, approaching the table and pulling out a third chair before sitting down. “I’m here.” He was running a hand through his dark hair and scratching his beard like he’d just got out of bed. Maybe he had.

And considering what he had waiting for him at home just through the courtyard out the back of the bar, Blue didn’t blame him.

“Not keeping you up, are we?” Ajax asked, eyeing Cash.

The other man lifted a shoulder and gave him a grin that could only be described as smug. “Five minutes, man. That’s all I can spare. Don’t want to keep a lady waiting, right?”

Christ. The sappy look on the dude’s face was sickening. “All right, keep your dick in your pants,” Blue said. “This isn’t going to take long.”

“No.” Ajax sat forward, elbows on his knees. “In fact it’s real simple. We know Priest was murdered and we have record of a payment made by Blade for a shitload of laundry the day after Priest died. Seems like an easy equation to me. We take Blade and the motherfucker who carried out the hit down.”

“Sounds good to me.” Blue picked up the beer sitting on the table and took a sip. “Actually, I’d be happy to take on that responsibility.” Truth be told, he couldn’t wait. Blade was the Ministry’s president, a nasty fuck who’d been eyeing Deacon territory for a long time, and Cash had found evidence the guy had paid for a hit on Priest.

With ten years of anger building in his gut, Blue was ready to unleash hell.

Cash rubbed his chin. “Yeah, but exactly how are you going to do that when there’s a whole bunch of them and not many of us?”

Cash had a point. The Deacons weren’t at full strength. Christ, they weren’t even at half strength. And as much as it galled, they had to be careful. There were only four of them and until they managed to call the rest home, treading lightly made logical sense.

“Good fucking question.” Ajax’s gaze settled on him. “We need to figure out how many of them there are, their arsenal, that kind of shit. You have contacts, Blue. What do you know about where the Ministry’s at these days?”

Yeah, he had contacts. People who’d been sending him information about what was happening in the city since he and the others had shipped out. And none of that information had been good. “I know that there were some traitors who shifted allegiance after Katrina. Ministry took them in, no questions asked. Pricks. Ministry’s been wanting in on Deacon territory for years, so it’s not that big a surprise.”

“Maybe they’ll be willing to tell us. Get some insider info. And if they’re not willing, we can apply some leverage if need be.” Ajax’s blue eyes narrowed. “You still remember how to do that, right?”

Like he’d ever forgotten. “I’m sure that can be arranged.”

“Then I say we do it,” Cash said, surprising Blue for a moment since the guy had been dead set against any kind of revenge a week or so ago. “We need to take them down.”

Ajax gave only a short nod. “Okay, but we need to plan this right. I’m getting what brothers I can find together, plus I’ve got some merc buddies that owe me favors, but I want more Ministry intel.” He glanced at Blue. “Let me know when you find something.”

The other two didn’t stick around for beers and small talk, both of them taking off pretty much straight away, leaving Blue to his own devices. Which suited him just fine since the redhead by the bar was still there.

The Ministry could wait for the night. He had a private welcome-home party to organize.

Pushing back his chair, he got to his feet and stalked over to the bar. As he got closer, he heard her laugh, a husky sound that moved over his skin like the sensual heat of a Louisiana night. And he felt the reaction, a deep, visceral pull.

You left it too long.

Yeah, he had. But he’d make up for all those long, lonely years with her. She was his coming-home present to himself. And what a fucking gift she was.

There was a guy standing next to her, but one look at Blue and he backed away quickly, leaving him some room at the bar beside her. Blue didn’t acknowledge the man—he was a Deacon, and this was his damn place. Instead he leaned his hip against the bar and folded his arms. The woman had her head turned away, not noticing him yet.