Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 113996 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113996 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
After the room emptied, he hung back.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“Chance called me to bring me up to speed.”
“Why aren’t you at the hospital with Chastity?”
“Because my wife and I both agree that I need to be here.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re making mistakes and we’re both worried it’s going to get you killed.”
I looked at him. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Why did you visit Everett without me?”
“Relax, the risk was low.”
“Don’t tell me to fucking relax. It makes me nervous when you go rogue on me.”
“Meeting up with an informant is not going rogue. You’re overreacting.” I headed for the door. “You were at the hospital, where you should fucking be right now.”
“You’ve got a hit out on you. Or has your girlfriend got you so fucking distracted you’ve forgotten?”
I stopped walking and looked at my sergeant-at-arms. Did everyone know about Taylor and me? “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“It means, I think you’re distracted and that makes me nervous.” His eyes hardened. “You’re taking stupid risks.”
Beneath my skin, a sudden anger began to simmer. I didn’t like the way he was talking, suggesting that I was not capable of making the right decisions based on the intel sitting in front of me.
My whole fucking life had been spent evaluating risks.
I knew what I was doing.
“I’m not distracted.” I glared at him.
“Well, I fucking beg to differ. Martel has a fucking hitman waiting to put a slug in your fucking ass, and you’re out there on your own without any back up.”
My anger was scratching to get out. Ruger was overreacting.
The truth was, I doubted Martel had a hit on me. If he did, something would’ve happened by now. I bit back my temper because I knew Ruger was only looking out for me.
When I went to walk out, he stood between me and the door.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
“No more risks.”
“The only person taking risks is you, right now. Get out of my way.”
I responded with the coldest, darkest look I have ever given Ruger. It was one I usually saved for the likes of Behemoth or Churchill, or any of my rivals.
Not my sergeant-at-arms.
Or my best friend.
But right now, he was pushing my last button.
Without another word, he stepped away.
“Get back to the hospital. You should be with your wife and kid.”
I brushed past him and walked through the clubhouse to my bike. I climbed on and lit her up with a flick of my wrist and roared out of the compound. I was pissed at Ruger, but at the end of the day I knew he was right.
I was distracted by Taylor.
I just didn’t want to hear it.
The address Everett gave me for Martel’s hideout was a two-hour drive out of Destiny. A small town built around a vast area of wetlands and mosquito-ridden swamp. It was a nothing town. Barely on the map. But it was close to the highways and connecting arterials, making it the perfect place to control his new drug distribution business.
He was holed up in a spacious log cabin surrounded by Carolina ash and pond cypress. A two-story mansion with a shingle roof and a wide porch. The perfect lair for an exiled crime lord.
We descended at twilight when the shadows were long and the tall trees were silhouetted against a dying sky. Seven Kings of Mayhem moving stealthily through the darkness, armed and ready to lay claim to Martel’s death. Despite knowing I was about to finally face my nemesis and end his days on this Earth, I was calm. I was steady. I was clearheaded. Everything I needed to be until this was done. And I wouldn’t be anything else until I was burying Martel in the damp soil of this blink-and-you’d-miss-it town.
There was a light on inside. A soft glow of a lamp against the darkness of the windows. With military position we surrounded the cabin so there was nowhere for Martel to escape if he should try.
Once we were all in place, I stepped toward the door and reached for the doorknob.
To my surprise, it was unlocked.
It should’ve been my first red flag.
Martel was in hiding.
No one in hiding left their front door unlocked.
There also seemed to be a complete lack of bodyguards.
Although, he would probably only have two or three and they would be inside.
Yet, there was no movement. No sounds. The evening was quiet except for the occasional splash of a waterfowl scurrying across the pond.
Something wasn’t right.
I signaled for Cade and Chance to hang back as I entered the silent cabin.
It was empty. Settled and still. I glanced around, and that was when I saw it. The photo stuck into the wall with a knife. A photo of me. With the blade piercing my forehead.
Martel knew we were coming.
But how?
The thought hit me like a bolt out of the blue.