Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
Nine sighs. He’s got a busted lip and a red mark on his cheek. “We’re on it, but not much luck yet.”
It’s the last thing I wanted to hear. I take a step toward him and feel the vein throb in my forehead with each step. The chords in my neck tighten. I lean down and point my smoke at Nine. “Nobody fucks with us in this town. That’s rule number one, and whoever is behind this is going to learn that the very fucking hard way.:
Nine doesn’t shy away from my order. He seems to embrace it. Gain confidence from it. As does Pike.
Nine’s shoulders straighten, and he nods.
I turn to Pike. “Don’t fucking stop looking until you’ve talked to everyone in this town, until you’ve turned over every grain of sand on that fucking beach. Don’t stop until you have a name or, better yet, a body.”
Nine stands. “You got it, Boss.”
I almost feel bad for the kid. He knows what to do and what his job is, but I’m too angry right now to muster up false fucking politeness for the sake of his feelings. “So, what do we know?” I ask, taking a step back and trying to fan the flames of my boiling blood.
Pike steps away from the wall and wrings out his hands. “We know that fuckers were wearing masks. Skeleton ski masks of all things. They didn’t sound or look familiar. If you ask me, they’re hires and not affiliated. The way they jacked us was reckless and not well planned. They shot up the truck tires from behind the guardrail, and we crashed into the median. They surrounded the truck before we could fire back and ordered us out of the truck. When Badger told them to go fuck themselves, they shot him.”
“How he holding up?” I ask. I don’t want anyone to die on my watch and in my town. Not if I can help it.
Pike shakes his head and lights a joint. “It was a through and through. We got him over at Nurse Jill’s spot. He’s on a half a bottle of Jack and some blues. He’s been whistling dixie for the last six hours. Literally. So, I’d guess that it’s safe to say he’ll be alright. Well, after the massive hangover I suspect the fucker will have.
I nod. “You said they didn’t sound familiar. So, what did they say?”
Pike hesitates and turns to Nine. “Tell him.”
Pike blows out a breath. “One of them said to tell you that there’s a new King of the Causeway in town, and he’ll take everything from you, unless…” He looks as if he’s about to take a bat to the dick the way he holds his breath.
“Unless what?” I ask, feeling the tendons in my neck strain. “Out with it!”
His eyes meet mine. “Unless, you give him what he wants.”
“And what the fuck is that?”
“I asked the same thing. He said you’ll be finding out soon enough.” Nine reaches up to his forehead and touches the angry red knot right below his hairline. “Then, he used the butt of his gun and knocked me the fuck out.”
“Hack into every security camera from here to fucking Miami. Find out where that fucking truck went. Pike, call up every blood-sucking connection you have from street dealers to the cartel. Get me a fucking name. And when you get one.” I take a deep drag. And blow the smoke out slowly through my nostrils like the angry fucking dragon I feel like right now. “You call me first.”
“On it,” Nine replies with a curt nod.
I leave with rage coursing through my body. Every muscle strained and tense. Whoever is behind this will pay the old-fashioned way. The way I built my name and my business.
In fucking blood.
I head up to the part of the house that doesn’t consist solely of dead trees and not much else. I half-expect the kids to run out like they usually do when they hear me coming up the steps, but there’s no one greeting me today.
Inside, I find my living room full of sleeping kids, both mine and Preppy’s. The only exception being Preppy himself who is wide awake and intently watching whatever singing cartoon is currently holding his attention.
I open the fridge and grab two beers. Preppy hears me and looks up. He stands from the couch and jerks his chin toward the back door. I wait by the door and hand him a beer, following him back outside. I slowly shut the screen door so I don’t wake the kids but keep the interior door open in case one of them wakes up.
“Where’s my girl?” I ask, taking a swig of my beer.
When we reach the grass, Preppy lights two smokes, handing one to me. “I sent her to bed. Well, I sent her to bed after giving her a famous Preppy foot rub.”