Page 128 of Sincerely, Butterfly

He sneers at me before grinding out, “I must have put it on silent last night, so we weren’t disturbed.” He puts his phone up to his ear. “Hey,” he grunts. “Wanna tell me what’s going on?”

I look at Wesley, who just shrugs. Standing, he makes his way over to the bar and makes himself a drink. “Really? This early?” I chuckle.

“It’s three in the afternoon,” Wesley deadpans, taking a sip.

“What?” My eyes widen. “Fuck, that shit really did a number on us, huh?”

“Do a better job at keeping us in the fucking loop, or it’s notyour job your going to be at risk of losing, it’ll be your fucking life!” Jasper shouts into his phone. He hangs up and looks down at the phone. I watch as his brows pull together, then I see the dark look in his eyes, and my stomach sinks. Jasper throws the phone across the room. “Fuck!” He grabs at his hair, pulling it.

That has me on edge. “What’s wrong?” All playfulness vanishes from me completely.

“He told me the names of the girls who died, as well as the girls who are missing.”

“Okay,” I say. “And who are they?”

“The two girls missing are Scarlett, but we already knew that,” Jasper begins. “But the second girl is Missy Trenton.”

“Who?” My brows furrow.

“She’s the dead girl we found and took care of ourselves,” Jasper explains. “They have no proof that the killer had anything to do with their disappearance, but it fits the description of the kinds of girls the killer is going after, and the timelines are close together.”

“And who are the girls they have confirmed as his victims?”

“Robin Lark.”

“Based on the photos he sent along with the information, one of them looks just like the girl you made plans to hook up with, but she never showed up.”

“Oh.” My brows furrow.

“And the one who was found this morning is none other than…”

“The girl who we fucked last night,” Wesley finishes, cursing. “You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

“Think we’re not being targeted now?” Jasper asks me. “All of these women are connected to us in some way.”

“Why isn’t Mike doing something about it?” I ask, getting to my feet. “Isn’t he supposed to make sure nothing like this causes an issue. We’re supposed to make sure New Orleans stays out of the spotlight when it comes to crimes like this. This is the complete opposite of what should be happening.”

“He said he tried, but too many already know. Like the people who found the photo of that one missing girl, and the group of women who found the body this morning when they were on awalk. If they just brush it under the rug, it’s going to cause more damage.”

“Then what do we do?”

“We find out who’s targeting us because this is way past being a coincidence now. As for the Brotherhood, we make sure they are aware that someone is trying to fuck with us and ensure we’re working closely with the NOPD to make sure this is handled quickly.”

“Who do you think it could be?” I ask.

“Who else?” Jasper crosses his arms. “Who would love nothing more than to watch us burn?”

“Roscoe Landry.” Wesley lets out a harsh breath. “That motherfucker would love nothing more than to bring, not just us, but the whole Brotherhood down.”

“If this keeps going on, people are going to start connecting the dots and see that being with one of us is all that is connecting the victims together. We would be seen as the ones killing them. The public would demand that we be reprimanded for it, leaving the Brotherhood vulnerable for the taking. Not to mention, staining the reputations of our companies. It makes sense. Of course, this is his doing. If he keeps going, it will get him exactly what he wants. Fuck!” Jasper shouts.

Roscoe Landry is the head of one of the founding families of Baton Rouge. Along with a few other families. They have a criminal organization similar to the Brotherhood. But there's a difference. The members of the Brotherhood have what we have by working hard and earning it, despite what our images and actions may imply.

They, on the other hand steal, kill, and force their way into power. We’ve always had a shaky relationship with them, as did our fathers, their fathers, and their father’s fathers.

It makes sense. They’d be the ones doing this in the hopes of dragging us under, paving a way for them to swoop in and steal our city.Not fucking happening.

“Guess we’re in for a long fucking day,” Wesley mutters. “I’ll make the coffee.”