Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73208 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73208 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
If nothing else I did in this world was worth much, I knew I had done one thing right. I had given Dovie another life. It might not be the best one, but it was better than the one we’d both survived. And I’d do whatever I had to in order to make sure her future was nothing like mine. Which was why I had come up with an idea. One I hadn’t thought of until two nights ago, when I’d overheard a conversation at the bar.
• Sixteen •
“I’d bet my left nut he’s dead, and the songbird killed him, just like she said.”
Storm
The blood on my hands wasn’t mine. It rarely was. King tossed a towel toward me as I reached the Escalade. Catching it, I wiped myself clean.
Tonight was King’s first time back doing the dirty work since his little girl had been born. He’d been different. There had been more caution in his actions when he’d once thought second, acted first. If Thatcher hadn’t arrived with his reckless insanity, things could have gone bad.
“We weren’t supposed to kill. Just warn,” King said as Thatcher jerked open the passenger door to climb inside.
“You prefer I let them shoot your ass?” he asked in a sardonic tone.
He wasn’t wrong.
This was supposed to have been a regular debt-collecting run. The Morse brothers owned a chain of service stations across Georgia and Alabama. They’d gotten in a bind financially, and one of their sons had gotten mixed up with a gang in Atlanta. When Joe Morse came to ask Stellan for help with both things, we stepped in for the price of four hundred grand. That money was due yesterday. They were given their warning by a call from Stellan. The twenty-four hours were up, and we came for the next step of the process. It was a more intense warning.
However, Joe Morse’s two security men were flanking each side of the desk where he sat and pointed a gun at me and King. I was weighing the options, but my hand was on the butt of my Glock when Thatcher walked in, a pistol in each hand, taking out both men, then going straight up to Joe, not stopping until he had both barrels against his forehead.
Joe Morse was alive, but he’d cried, pissed his pants, and when we’d walked away, I’d heard him retching in his office.
The money was in a leather bag in the back of the Escalade, and our job was done, but there were two dead bodies left inside. I’d taken their guns from them and checked them for any wires, hence the blood on my hands.
“They weren’t going to kill us. That would have been a deadly move on Morse’s part, and he knew it,” King argued. “Then, you came walking in like fucking Doc Holliday, both guns blazing, putting bullets between their eyes. Jesus, Thatch,” he said angrily as he headed to the driver’s seat.
“We got the money. Job done,” Thatcher said, leaning back in his seat. “And since we’re making comparisons, I thought it was more of a Wyatt Earp move than Doc.”
“Doc Holliday was the psycho,” King replied.
I kept my mouth shut.
King and Wilder Jones had grown up with Thatcher. They were as close as you could be to Thatcher, and they were the only two who talked to him like that. Sebastian did at times, but even his brother didn’t push too hard. Seeing as how Wells, Sebastian, and I were the younger group, we had grown up tight, looking up to the older three, but not really in their circle of trust. Until we all took our place in the family. Still didn’t make me or Wells comfortable with Thatcher.
Once I was settled in the back seat, I dropped the bloodstained towel in the black trash bag we kept in the back for things like this.
“You were supposed to stay outside and keep watch,” King told him as he started the engine.
Thatcher let out an amused laugh. “You’ve gone soft, King. Got to toughen up, fucker, if you want to stay alive for that baby and wife of yours.”
“I’ve not gone soft,” King snarled.
“Shiiit,” Thatcher drawled. “Until tonight, I can’t think of a time a man pointed a gun at your head and you didn’t take him out yourself.”
“I was giving them time to back down,” he argued.
“I gave them fucking time. I counted to ten,” Thatcher replied.
King shook his head and pulled out onto the street, and we drove down the long drive that led to the Morse mansion.
“Storm was the only one going for his gun,” Thatcher pointed out. “You didn’t even move to go in that direction. Storm couldn’t take them both out at the same time, so I did what I needed to.”
King lifted his eyes to the rearview mirror to look at me.