Total pages in book: 150
Estimated words: 136791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
"Standing right here," I mutter and finish shoving the safe out the door. "But you already knew that because I definitely know you somehow, so how about you stop wasting my time and tell me why the fuck you're asking?"
Like I said, I'm fucking tired. It's been over a week since January kicked my ass out, and I'm not in the mood for bullshit. My girl is hiding out with Mariah. I don't know if she's okay or not. All Mariah will tell me is that she's in good hands…whatever that means. Kaleo's gone MIA, and I'm fed up with picking off the low-hanging fruit he left behind.
Two days after January kicked me out, Liam came through with the names of the girls Kaleo's been pimping out. The youngest is fourteen fucking years old. It didn't take me long to convince her to tell me what I needed to know to have a search warrant signed. We raided his clubhouse at dawn. We've since moved onto his house.
He's done. His reign is over.
Burning his shit to the ground would be a lot more enjoyable if he was around to watch it happen.
The fact that he thinks he can hide from me would be laughable if I were in a better mood. This city isn't fucking big enough to keep me from finding him. But I'm not in the mood to have to hunt his sorry ass down. I just want to deal with him so I can get back to more important things. Like figuring out how I'm going to spend the rest of my life taking care of January when she won't even come home.
"I need you to come with me, Agent Kincaid," the detective says. His deep voice is soft, almost as if he's trying to keep it from carrying to the ATF and DEA agents currently crawling all over Kaleo's property.
As soon as he speaks, I know why he's here. My crimes have finally caught up with me.
Before I can respond, Luke Santiago and Roman Gregory step out onto the porch behind me.
Fuck. I'd rather not do this in front of them, but it doesn't look like LAPD is going to give me that option. I'm guessing whoever is in charge of this particular case started flipping shit when he found out I was here, taking Kaleo's house apart. They don't want me anywhere near his shit right now.
"What are you doing here, Octavio?" Roman barks at the detective, looking equal parts confused as hell and suspicious as shit. He's not the kind of man who enjoys being in the dark.
"Octavio Hernandez!" I say, snapping my fingers. "Fucking knew we were acquainted." I met him on Tristan's case. No wonder he looks like he'd rather be anywhere but here right now.
"Not something I want to be doing," he mutters to Roman, rubbing his palm over his dark crewcut hair and glancing at the guys casting furtive looks in our direction as they bag and tag all of Kaleo's property. He actually looks like he regrets what he's about to do.
I take pity on him and step away from the safe. Last thing I need on my conscience is for Roman and Hernandez to come to blows over my stupid ass, and the ATF agent does not seem happy right now. I'm pretty sure he and Hernandez are friends, but Hernandez wouldn't be here to do this now if he didn't have to do it. It is what it is.
My gaze shifts to the kid at his side, who looks like he's ready to shit himself.
"Roman, I need you to take my badge and my gun," I mutter to him and hold my hands up in the air.
"What the fuck?" he grits out.
"What the fuck?" Santiago says at the same time.
"Your boy is here to take me in for questioning," I say and glance at Hernandez, who nods regretfully.
"For fucking what?" Santiago asks, confused as hell.
Not Roman, though. He looks pissed…and resigned, both emotions roiling in his blue eyes. Seeing that expression on his face makes me wonder how much he knows about me and the shit I did way back when. Enough to not be surprised about what's going down now, by the looks of it.
"For the murders of Jace Adams, Tully Adcock, and Sean Cortez," Hernandez says.
"Yeah, for that shit," I agree and take a step toward Roman. "You going to take this? I'd surrender it myself, but I don't want to chance Carrot Top there pissing himself or fucking shooting me if I reach for my gun."
Santiago snorts, shooting the kid a derisive glare that probably has his balls climbing toward his throat. The fact is, out of everyone standing here, the kid is the one who looks least like he belongs, yet most like a cop. Roman is massive, and Santiago and Hernandez are as big as I am. They all appear about as likely to play by the rules.