I'm the only woman in seventy years to wear the Bayou Redwater's full patch.
I earned it in the spillway, on the runs, with a bullet in my shoulder at nineteen.
I'm also the woman my president kept coming home to between the others. The one who bailed him out. The one who cleaned up after Coco, a lounge singer from Houma who moved the club's money because nobody told her what it was.
When I posted her bail, I posted mine too.
I rode to Gulfport and started over with two boats and a warehouse and no brothers.
Two years later Bo shows up at my yard asking me to save the club-the whole club, not just him.
I'll do it. For a price. And I already know exactly what it is.
