Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 79382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
"The guy is fat is what you're saying," I said, feeling a small smile tease my lips.
"No. No. He's not fat. He, ah, well he might break whatever scale they use to weigh blue whales. He's a planet to himself. Anyway, yeah, he took over and he for whatever reason set his sights on the arms trade here. I guess he thought The Henchmen were an easy target."
To be perfectly honest, that wasn't an unfair conclusion. The Henchmen, before they did all the renovations I had only heard about, were a little lax security-wise. The gates were manned, but hardly ever closed. Anyone could prospect. Anyone with tits or a familiar face could get into the club on a party night. They had people watch the grounds, but the grounds themselves were too easily penetrated. As proven the night someone took Summer.
And, well, they were a relatively small operation. Granted, they certainly had more numbers than, say, The Mallick family or even the Grassis, but there was no going after the mob and while there was money to be made in loan sharking and Charlie and his sons lived good lives, it wasn't quick or easy money.
If they could come in, kill off the competition, then just move right in and take over, yeah, it would be a big payout in a short period of time.
The Henchmen, for all their street-like roughness and almost cheap look to their clubhouse, had bank. They had a fucking boatload of money. So much so that Reign didn't even blink when Lo gave him the totals for expensive, rare shit like DARPA glass.
There was a lot of money to be made in guns. Small militias and criminal organizations all over the world needed guns. And it wasn't as easy as one might think to get connections that could supply that many guns. But Reign had them. And half the eastern United States syndicates used weapons bought directly from The Henchmen MC.
"You haven't been watching TV, have you?" Alex asked, jerking her head toward the small thing hanging in the corner from the ceiling.
I waved my hand to the pile of books on the windowsill. There was an endless supply always coming in from the people at Hailstorm who knew that was how I generally preferred to spend my time. It was useful too, because I hadn't been sleeping.
Apparently, even though he was still alive and I could crawl into the bed with him, him not being able to wake up meant that I started getting the nightmares again. Worse, more often, and much more vivid. It got to the point where nurses would come running from the screaming I had started to do again and I just got a mix of frustrated with my memories and embarrassed by the open display of them that I stopped sleeping.
Alex came in on my third full day of no sleep.
"No, why?" I asked, brows drawing together.
"The Henchmen had a visitor a few nights ago from this guy named Lazarus who said he saw people breaking into the gym..."
"The gym?" I exploded, jumping up onto my feet. "My gym!"
"Yeah. But by the time Reign and the others got there, someone must have tipped off the cops because they already had two of Little Ricky's guys in custody. Lo had some guys go in once the cops were done and they found bugs and..."
"And?" I prompted, impatient.
"And a very badly made bomb," Alex supplied, tone cautious.
"How badly made?"
"Like a teenager finding plans online bad."
I felt myself snort at that, finding it equal parts insulting and amusing. You don't hire amateurs to build bombs. And you don't plant bullshit baby bombs at a place partially owned by a bomb expert.
What the actual fuck?
"Janie," Alex said, lips tipped up slightly, "tell me I didn't just fuck up by telling you."
"Fuck up?" I asked, smiling humorlessly. "No. You did the smart thing. I can finally... help out now. No disrespect to L, but he's clueless dark web-wise. And I know you know what you're doing, Al, but you don't have the kind of time I currently do," I said as I went over to my messenger bag in the corner and dragged out my laptop and a charging cord. "I will find these fuckers."
"Alright, doll, I gave you ten. We gotta go get Junior from Paine's before he breaks anymore of Elsie's expensive shit," Breaker said, stepping into the doorway, all tall, blond-bearded handsomeness. "Hey, Jstorm, how you holding up?" he asked, giving me a sympathetic smile with sad eyes.
I was getting really sick of that look. And that whining-type voice people used when they asked how I was.
So long as I wasn't rocking in a corner, I was fucking fine. Even if I was a mess. Even if I was raging. Even if I was crying. Even if I was yelling at Wolf to wake up.