Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 116636 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 467(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116636 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 467(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
“So, here’s the part where I tell you I changed my mind about making it fast,” Horse said, his tone friendly. “It’s just so much fun, you know? Now I’m going to break all the bones in your feet so you can’t walk ever again …”
Nate shrieked and babbled, tears running down his face.
“Oh, c’mon,” Bam Bam said, his voice heavy with disgust. “You fucked that girl and sent her down there to die. You blew up London’s house. Then you blackmailed her into shooting Pic. Now you’re whining because of a broken hand? I thought you were hard-core and shit, but you’re just a little girl with a badge.”
Nate’s jaw started working, and we waited patiently until he managed to form words.
“I’ll do anything you want,” he gasped. “Just don’t hit me again. Don’t kill me. I don’t want to die.”
“How ’bout this,” I said slowly. “You call your friends down south and tell them me and London are dead. Murder-suicide, or some such shit. If they let the kid live, we’ll let you live.”
“How do I know you’ll keep your promise? You can’t afford to let me survive at this point.”
I sighed heavily, rubbing my temples with a thumb and finger.
“You know, I almost don’t want him to call,” I told Horse. “Jessica is a pain in my ass, and if she comes back home, I won’t get as much pussy. Doesn’t change anything in terms of the war if we save her. Why don’t you just have some fun with him, and then when you get bored we’ll shoot him?”
“Okay,” Horse said, shrugging.
“Wait!” Evans shouted.
I cocked a brow at him. “I thought we couldn’t afford to let you live? That’s what you just told me. What’s the holdup?”
“While he’s still alive, he’s still got hope,” Bam said, smirking. “So now he’s gonna do exactly what you tell him, because every minute he’s breathing means he could still get out of this. Am I right, Nate?”
“Get my phone,” Nate said, sweat breaking out on his forehead. “I’ll make the call.”
“We’ll dial for you, ’cause we’re helpful that way,” Horse said. “People don’t always give us full credit for our warm, fuzzy side, but it’s definitely there. We just love to help.”
“Fuckin’ Mother Teresa of the MC world, Horse,” Ruger chimed in. “Brings a tear to my eye.”
Gage snorted and tossed me the man’s phone.
“Who do I call?” I asked. “Remember, if you double-cross us, you die. If Jessica dies, you die. You got a lot more to lose here than I do, because I really don’t give two shits about the kid. Might be easier for me if she doesn’t live. Something to keep in mind.”
“Julia Strauss,” he said. “That’s the number.”
I scrolled through the contacts, finding the name. Then I hit the call button and put it on speakerphone. It picked up, but nobody spoke.
“It’s me,” Nate said, eyes darting quickly around the room. I wondered if he’d warn them. Probably not. The man was too much of a coward to sacrifice himself for a cause. For once I agreed with him—the cartel wasn’t worth a sacrifice, and they sure as shit wouldn’t appreciate or reward one. “It’s done.”
There was a pause, and then a man with a deep voice and faint Spanish accent replied.
“You sure? We didn’t hear anything on the scanner.”
“No police report,” Nate said. “London called me after she shot him, and I went out there. Now she’s dead, too, made it look like a murder-suicide. I left them—we’ll let someone else find the bodies. You can let the girl go now.”
The man gave a harsh laugh.
“I’ll authorize the transfer to your account,” he said, and the line went dead.
Nate’s face fell, the hope in his eyes fading.
“They’re going to kill her,” he said. “Always knew they would. She’s a good kid …”
I punched him in the face so hard his chair fell over backward. His head hit the floor with a hollow-sounding thud and he started crying again. Standing over him, I cracked my knuckles, choosing my words for maximum effect.
“While she’s alive, you’re alive,” I told him. “So if you have any idea how to find these fuckers, now is the time to talk. If we get her out because of information you give us, the deal stands.”
“I thought you didn’t care if she lived or not?” he asked, blinking in the glare of the work lights hanging from the ceiling. “You’re going to kill me and we both know it. Why should I help you?”
Painter stepped over, nudging the man’s shoulder with one booted foot. He’d only just gotten back to the Armory, after settling Melanie in at the house. Perfect timing—he had his own scores to settle with Evans.
“How’s this?” he asked, the words soft and feral. “Let’s throw in a little more motivation. How ’bout you help us get Jess out safe and I won’t kill your parents.”