Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
I had to admit, he’d made the right call. I couldn’t go after both culprits, and he knew I’d want the mastermind. “Who?”
“Cordell DeLuca.”
My jaw clenched so hard that my teeth ground together. I inhaled slowly, trying to hold myself together. I was known for being calm and cool under pressure, rarely lost my temper, and could be relied on for being rational. But when it came to my woman, all bets were off. The need to wrap my hands around Cordell’s throat and watch the life drain from his eyes, was the only thing keeping me from losing my shit right that moment. I needed to keep my head in the game so I could hunt that asshole down.
And before I did, there was a call I needed to make.
I gave Deviant instructions on what to do next, then walked over to check on Dahlia. She wasn’t moving, and for a second, fear clogged my throat.
“The meds will knock her out until tomorrow,” Blade informed me when he saw my panicked expression.
Meds. Right. She wasn’t unconscious again, just sleeping. Fuck. I needed to handle this shit before I did something stupid.
“I’ll come by again in the morning.”
I nodded and walked him to the door but stopped him before he left. “I’m riding out tonight. Going after the motherfucker who hurt Dahlia. Make sure someone takes over for you when I get back. Gonna need you to keep the asshole alive so I can make him pay…a lot.”
Blade lifted his chin in acknowledgment. He didn’t ask if I wanted him to come with me because he knew I’d want him here in case there was a complication with Dahlia’s injuries.
After he left, I paced the living room as I put in a call to New York.
“DeLuca,” Nic answered curtly.
“I need a favor,” I said in lieu of a greeting.
“Most people start a phone call with hello, Kye,” he replied dryly.
“Not when they are contemplating cold-blooded murder.”
Nic was silent for a moment, then I heard rustling and the snick of a door closing.
“What’s going on?”
“I’m calling for your help to find someone. And because we’ve been friends for so long and I respect you, I’m asking you to let me handle the situation rather than handing it over to you.”
“Why would you need my permission?”
“Because I’m gonna kill someone in your family.”
Nic sighed. “Cordell?”
“Who else?” I snarled.
“I told Maverick I would handle it. And I am. I located him this morning—”
“He almost killed my woman, Nic,” I uttered in a ragged tone. Then I gave him a summary of what had happened with the bomb.
The Mafia boss went silent again. When he eventually spoke, his tone was lethal and hard as steel. “Women and children are off-limits. Cordell is no longer family. Handle him as you see fit.”
“You said you knew where he is?”
“I’ll do you one better. Stay by the phone. Next time I call, a package will be awaiting pick up somewhere near you.”
“Are you sure? I’m willing to come to New York and hunt the asshole down.”
“Unnecessary. It’s your right to punish him, but it was me who brought the bastard into your life. Let me help. I wouldn’t want to be that far away from my Gianna if it were me.”
“I owe you,” I replied. It was my way of saying thank you.
“I don’t see it that way, but you’re welcome.”
I hung up and padded back into the bedroom. After setting my phone on the nightstand, I stripped down to my boxer briefs and climbed onto the bed. Curling myself around Dahlia, I reminded myself that she was okay and waited for Nic’s call.
11
FOX
Motorcycle clubs were not the place to find men with clean hands. Some of us, like the Iron Rogues or Silver Saints, had honor, loyalty, and limits, but we were still involved in shady shit, had blood on our hands, and doled out our own brand of justice. At times, we’d worked with the local law enforcement, but in moments like this, I was the judge and jury. And in this case, I would also be the executioner.
I rode my bike out to a small building that sat at a spot on our property that was the farthest from any of the businesses, homes, and clubhouse. From the outside, it looked a lot like the safehouse Dahlia and I had holed up in. But on the inside, it was very, very different. We called it “The Room,” a name as dismissive as its exterior. The interior had four rooms, a lounging area of sorts, a cell, an interrogation hold, and a space that had a cache of…tools that might be needed to aid us in gaining what we wanted.
After parking my hog near the single entrance, I checked my phone yet again, re-reading the text from Molly assuring me that Dahlia was fine. I’d hated to leave my girl, but I needed to get this done so we could move on without lives. Mav and Molly were watching over her, and for the moment, that had to be enough.