Текст книги "Reaper's Fall "
Автор книги: Joanna Wylde
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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 24 страниц)
I hit the dining room, discovering the remains of our painting marathon the night before. Shit. I’d forgotten I needed to go buy paint. Jessica was going to kill me.
“Looking for these?” she asked, a shopping bag dangling from one hand.
“Face paints?” I asked hopefully. She nodded.
“Painter went out and bought them this morning.”
“See, he’s not that bad!”
She cocked a brow at me. “Seriously? He can buy you off with fifteen bucks of paint?”
“Don’t be a bitch.”
“But I do it so well,” she said, a reluctant smile coming across her face. “It was thoughtful. I can admit that. He left a note, too.”
“Let me see,” I said. She dug out a piece of folded paper, handing it over.
“I’ll save you some time. He said he’s sorry he had to bail on volunteering, but that he didn’t want to leave you hanging after he used up all the paint. He’ll be in touch as soon as he can.”
I opened the note, and sure enough—she’d quoted it almost perfectly. Suddenly I had an ugly thought.
“Jess?”
“Yeah?”
“You know how you’ve had the same phone code since high school, and I know that code?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Do you know my phone code?”
She stared at me, raising a brow.
“Of course.”
“I would never read your email or text messages. Just so you know.”
“Glad to hear it.”
“Jess?”
She blinked at me innocently. Like Bambi. “Yeah?”
“Is it even remotely possible that you don’t read my messages?”
My best friend gave me a beautiful, loving smile.
“Anything’s possible, Mellie. Now get your ass in gear—those kids get pissy if they have to wait too long for the carnival to start.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
PAINTER
Five hours later I pulled up to the shithole of a hotel Gage and I had been staying in the past week, wondering how long I’d be stuck here . . . I was ready to be home again already. Mel had done a number on me, no question. Never gave a damn before where the club sent me or worried how long it would take.
When I turned into the gravel parking lot—yeah, the hotel was that classy—I saw the cherry red Mustang convertible we’d seen in town last weekend parked next to Gage’s truck. Well, wasn’t that just interesting . . . the scandalous Ms. Tinker Garrett was leaning back against it, laughing at something Gage had just said. He was standing just a little too close to her.
Dirty fucker.
I bit back a grin, pulling my bike up next to them.
“Hey there,” I said. “Aren’t you going to introduce me, Coop?”
“You got here earlier than I expected,” he said, eyes narrowing just a little, although his voice was friendly enough. “This is Tinker—looks like I’ll be renting from her. I need a place and she’s got one, so it works out perfect. Tinker, this is Levi, a good friend of mine.”
She turned toward me, smiling brightly. God, she really was a pinup girl. All shiny hair, innocent face, and a body that wouldn’t quit. Up close I could see she was older than I’d realized—probably in her mid-thirties. Shooting Gage a speculative look, I had to bite back a smirk.
He had a thing for her, big-time.
Wasn’t that just unfortunate as hell, given the fact that he’d spent the last week chasing Marsh’s little sister, Talia. She had a bangin’ body, but no softness. No, that girl was a first-class bitch. Wouldn’t be a bit surprised if she had a pussy full of teeth. Sharp teeth.
Damned good thing I wouldn’t be the one fuckin’ her. Dodged a bullet there—Talia liked the older guys.
“Nice to meet you, Levi,” Tinker said, giving me a look every bit as sweet as the one she’d given Gage. Oh, that’d piss him off. “Looking forward to you moving in, Cooper. I need to get going, though—I’m headed down to Ellensburg for the night. Later!”
We stepped back, watching as she climbed into her car, backing it carelessly out of the parking lot before tearing off in a spray of gravel.
“Damn, she handles that stick like a pro,” I murmured.
“Eat shit, Levi,” Gage said. “Play nice or I’ll give you to Talia. She asked about you last night—guess one of her girls is into you.”
“Yeah, not interested. I’d just as soon my dick not fall off. Never seen such a diseased-looking pack of bitches.”
“Now, that’s not very nice,” he said, throwing an arm over my shoulder. “Especially since you’re a bigger slut than all of them combined.”
I fucking hated it when he was right.
“Was there a reason you made me drive all the way across the state?” I asked. “I was in the middle of something.”
“Fucking some skank? We have skanks here, too. You’ll get over it.”
“Actually, I was with Melanie,” I confessed. “I spent the night at her place.”
Gage raised a brow.
“I thought she was your new princess,” he said. “Since when do you touch those?”
“Since last night, apparently,” I admitted. “She was good, Gage. Really good. I think this might be the real thing.”
“Give it a week and you’ll be over her. C’mon inside. I need to fill you in on some shit.”
He was all business now, and I followed him into the room, wondering what’d happened.
“Beer?” he asked. I shook my head, flopping back on one of the sagging full-size beds, propping my hands behind my neck. Hadn’t gotten much sleep last night—might as well relax while I could. From the look on Gage’s face, we’d have a shit storm to deal with soon enough.
“We’re going to a party out at the Nighthawks’ clubhouse in a few hours,” he said, sitting down across from me. “Talia was at the bar again last night. We danced for a while and I bought her a few drinks. Then her brother showed up with his crew and I finally got an introduction. We started talking and I fed him my line about being an independent rider. Bought a couple rounds and the next thing I know, I’m taking Talia to the party tonight. She wants you along for her girl.”
“I’m not gonna fuck her,” I told him without a second thought. Huh.
“Pussy-whipped?” he asked, his voice serious. “Club needs you on this, Painter. You think I wanna screw that bitch Talia? Fuck no, not with a sweet piece like Tinker around. We all gotta do our part, bro.”
I shook my head, frowning.
“I’m serious about Mel.”
“She doesn’t need to know.”
“How ’bout this—I’ll take it one step at a time, see how it plays out.”
Gage cocked his head. “You’ll do what needs to be done?”
“Don’t I always?”
“Always have before. There’s more.”
“What?”
“This morning I saw someone I recognized,” he said, his tone grim. “Someone who will recognize me.”
“That’s no good. Passing through?”
“It’s possible,” he said. “He was by himself. Could be a coincidence.”
“Who was it? Anyone I know?”
“Unlikely—this shit went down before your time. Few years back, we had a hangaround whose girlfriend worked at The Line. Turned out he was a snitch, and it’s ’cause of him and that bitch of his that Bolt served time. She set him up—they were working with the Feds. The snitch pulled a runner. Called himself Hands, no idea what his real name is.”
“You don’t think it’s a coincidence he turned up here?”
“I got a bad feeling about it,” he admitted. “Can’t think of a good reason for him to be in Hallies Falls. If he’s still workin’ with the cops, he may be targeting Marsh and his boys now. Much as I hate the fucker, last thing we need is LEO sniffing out the cross-border trade and shutting it down. Throw in the fact that he could blow my cover and we got a big problem.”
No shit.
“You didn’t just call me because of a party,” I said flatly, forcing my body to stay relaxed. Gage shook his head, looking almost regretful.
“Hopin’ it won’t come to that, but we can’t let him talk. Assuming he’s even here—could be he was passing through. But if he’s after Marsh, odds are good he’ll be at the party tonight.”
“Pic know?”
“He knows we have a complication,” Gage replied. “Couldn’t risk giving any details—when Bolt hears, he’ll lose his shit, so I’d like to handle it before that happens. It’s on you and me. I see him at the party, you’ll have to find a way to get him out of there without raising suspicions. On the bright side, Rance is ready and waiting—we get Hands, we’ll haul his ass to Bellingham for questioning. After they get as much info as they can, they’ll take care of him for us.”
“It’s never simple, is it?”
“Never has been before, so no reason to expect it to start now,” he said, shrugging. “I need to ask you something.”
“What?”
“You sure you’re up for something this heavy? I know you take a big risk every time you come over here, but they catch you with Hands, you’ll go away for a long fuckin’ time. Doesn’t matter how much money we give Torres, he wouldn’t be able to cover up something this serious.”
“Then I won’t get caught,” I said. “Whoever does the job takes the same risk, and it’s not like I have kids.”
“Yeah, but it sounds like you’ve got something goin’ on with Melanie.”
“I didn’t see Horse or Ruger turning soft when they met their old ladies.”
“I don’t see them in this hotel room, either.”
“I’m here,” I told him, my voice steady. “The club comes first—that’s the way it is. We’ll handle this situation, no worries.”
“Gotcha, brother.”
• • •
Talia’s friend—a brown-haired girl named Sadie—was wrapped tight around me, squealing as we tore down the highway. Her fingernails were long and red like talons, and they were currently digging deep into my stomach. For reasons completely beyond me she seemed to think this was sexy.
Gage was ahead of us, leading the way to the Nighthawk Raiders’ clubhouse, Talia on the back of his bike. The girls were already wasted when we’d pulled up to their place. Sadie had done her best to crawl inside my pants while Gage disappeared into the bathroom with Talia for a quickie. I could hear her screaming “Harder, Daddy!” through the door the whole time, so I guess it was good we sent Gage after her instead of me—according to Sadie, Talia thought “old guys” were hot.
I had every intention of sharing that little tidbit with all the brothers back home, too.
Now we’d reached the Nighthawk clubhouse, an old commercial building on the northern edge of town. A chain-link fence lined with razor wire surrounded a large, open parking lot to one side of the building.
We parked our bikes on the street, away from the line of club bikes in front of the building. A couple of prospects were lurking around outside. They didn’t particularly impress me. Neither did the club’s motorcycles, for that matter. Most of them were dirty and a couple were flat-out rat bikes. Back home, our prospects would be all over that shit, shining up the chrome and making sure everything stayed clean.
No fuckin’ pride.
Loud music poured out as we walked toward the large rolling gate into the fenced area. Talia dragged Gage along proudly, like a cat with a particularly juicy mouse. Sadie was giggling and hanging all over me. Much as I wanted to hate her, she didn’t strike me as nasty like Talia—just young and fucking stupid. I could already see her in a few years, all played out and broken-down. Girls like her didn’t last long in this life, not if they couldn’t find themselves a good old man.
Talia headed straight for the prospects. “Is Marsh here?”
“He’s out back.”
“This is my friend Cooper,” she said. “And his friend Levi. Keep an eye on their bikes. I find one scratch and you’ll pay, got it?”
The fuck? I could hardly believe what I’d just heard . . . No fuckin’ way she should be talking to a prospect like that—that was business for patch holders. Gage shot me a quick look, as if to say Told you so. The Nighthawk Raiders had really fallen to shit.
The prospect gave me an evil glare as he turned toward the gate, and I couldn’t blame him. We were out of line.
The party wasn’t much better. There was the usual mess of club whores, all fucked up on God knows what. A few old ladies here and there, some loud music. Kegs. The brothers were a bit of a mix—there were a couple who looked pretty solid to me, which matched what we’d heard from Pipes. Most of the others were high as shit.
No wonder they kept running short on product.
As we went to grab some beer, Talia started introducing us around. I noticed the Nighthawk brothers fell into two distinct groups. Those with newer, shinier cuts were falling all over themselves to suck up to her—at least to her face—while a slightly older group with more faded colors kept their distance. I caught a few of them staring me down, and the looks weren’t friendly. The rumors about Marsh recruiting heavily had to be true, because no way this many new members had prospected in. I wondered how the hell things had gotten this far. Something was deeply, deeply fucked in this club.
We wandered over to the keg and pumped ourselves some beer, which Sadie sucked down like her life depended on it. After a while I started swapping cups with her, letting her drink my share, too. They had a couple of fire barrels set up around the back side of the building—also fenced in—and Talia herded us toward a big man standing in the center of a group.
He had long, dark blond hair pulled back in a ponytail, with a girl under one arm and a bottle of tequila in the other. His patches identified him as the president. Marsh.
Showtime.
Talia slipped up to him, and I noted how the other girl ducked away from Marsh, making room for his sister without being told. He wrapped his arm around Talia, giving her a squeeze.
“How’s my baby girl tonight?” he asked, his voice strong and booming.
“Great,” she said, popping up on her toes to kiss his cheek. He looked closer to Gage’s age than mine, so she had to be a good ten, fifteen years younger than he was. Interesting. “You remember Cooper? We met him at the bar the other night—he’s that independent rider I was telling you about. And that’s his friend Levi.”
Marsh looked us over, nodding toward Gage.
“Good to see you again,” he said. “You find drinks?”
Gage raised his cup in salute. “Thanks for the invite. I’m new to the area, still finding my way around.”
“You’d mentioned that. What’s a long-haul trucker doing in Hallies Falls? Isn’t this a little out of the way for you?”
Gage shrugged.
“Had to get away from my bitch of an ex,” he lied smoothly. “The cunt’s tryin’ to take away my kids. She’s got a new man down in Ellensburg—figure this is close enough to go see ’em but not so close I have to see her fat ass on a daily basis. You got any kids?”
“No, but I raised this one here,” he said, smiling at Talia proudly. Huh. That explained a lot. “She’s been my little shadow her whole damned life.”
Talia giggled, kissing him again . . . just a little close to the mouth. I kept my face blank. Marsh looked toward me next.
“So what’s your story?”
“Coop is my cousin,” I told him. “Just got done serving time—tryin’ to figure out my next step. He’s been helping me out.”
Marsh nodded his head thoughtfully, and I knew he’d taken the bait. Two independents with questionable backgrounds could be useful to him.
“You ride, too?”
I grinned—wouldn’t have to lie about this part.
“Live to ride,” I said. “Worst part about bein’ inside was losin’ my bike. Now I’m on the road every day. Feels like I can breathe again.”
Marsh nodded.
“Enjoy yourselves—we throw a good party, and there’s always room for independents around here, so long as they know their place.”
“Appreciate the hospitality,” Gage said. “We’ll keep our eyes open, let you know if we see anything you should know about.”
“Sounds good.”
Marsh gave Talia one last squeeze, then turned away, clearly done with us. I shared a glance with Gage—that’d gone well.
“More beer,” Sadie whined, but Talia wanted to do shots, pulling us in another direction. Marsh’s sister might be hot as hell, but thank God that Gage had to deal with her. All issues with Mel aside, no fuckin’ way I’d want to stick my dick in that cunt.
Teeth, I’m tellin’ you.
Bitch would probably bite it right off.
• • •
Hours passed—felt like the party was endless.
We’d been drinking all night, although I’d been dumping mine quietly or pawning it off on Sadie, who was now so wasted I wasn’t sure how I’d get her home again. She sure as shit wouldn’t be able to stay on a bike. Talia thought this was hysterical—apparently Sadie did the same thing every weekend with a new guy (or two, or six) and sometimes she just crashed at the club, where anyone could have a go at her. Good friend that she was, Talia assured me that she always rolled Sadie onto her side before leaving her behind.
You know, so she wouldn’t drown in her own vomit.
Generally I tried to stay pretty open-minded about people—not my place to judge—but Talia made it difficult. As for Sadie, I felt more sorry for her than anything else. I mean, she was an adult making her own decisions, but shit like that doesn’t happen in a vacuum. Something had fucked her up along the way. Horrible human being that I am, I mostly just felt relieved it wasn’t my job to rescue her.
We hadn’t seen Hands yet—so far the best part of the night. Maybe his passing through town had been a random coincidence after all. Generally I didn’t believe in those, but I guess anything’s possible.
As it turned out, I was right.
There’s no such thing as coincidence.
• • •
We were standing out by the barrels talking to some of the brothers—the newer ones, Marsh’s puppets—when Gage reached up to scratch his nose. That was our sign. I followed the line of his gaze to see a stringy little guy, hardly taller than Sadie, talking to Marsh. His hair was shaved, with a tattoo of a swastika on the back of his head. Aryan. Fuckin’ great, Gage hadn’t mentioned that. Those guys were crazy as shit, with their bombs and their bunkers.
We had to take care of this fucker and do it in a way that wouldn’t raise any questions. Gage was already turning away, making sure that Handsy-boy couldn’t get a look at his face.
I needed a diversion.
Up to this point, I’d seen Sadie as annoying and pitiable, but she chose that moment to make herself useful.
“I’m gonna puke!” she wailed, turning toward Talia frantically. Her friend—also drunk off her ass by this point—started laughing and then Sadie exploded.
Literally.
I’ve never seen so much barf come out of one human being, and that includes the time six of the brothers got food poisoning from some bad macaroni salad. She was spraying everyone and everything, including Talia, who went from laughing to screaming in an instant, pointing and yelling like a fuckin’ banshee.
Empathetic fuckers that they were, the Nighthawk guys lucky enough to be out of range seemed to find this hilarious, Marsh and Hands included. I edged toward them, keeping an eye on Handsy-boy as a prospect came running with a hose. He passed me and I took the opportunity to “trip” over the hose, crashing into the snitch as hard as I could. We hit the pavement together hard, and I’m not gonna lie—it hurt like a sonofabitch.
The fuckers around us laughed even harder.
“Jesus,” I moaned, rolling to my side as I tried to catch my breath. Hands’s face was right next to mine, mouth slack. I watched as someone reached down, checking the pulse at his neck.
“Out cold,” a man said, sounding vaguely pleased by this news. I looked up to see one of the older brothers—part of the pre-Marsh crew, I guess, because he wasn’t wearing a shiny new cut—kneeling next to us.
“Hey, I’m really sorry about that,” I whined, trying to sound harmless and sincere at the same time. “I don’t know what happened.”
“Prospect tripped you,” he said. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I said, although my side ached like a motherfucker. If I’d cracked a rib, Gage was gonna owe me. “He gonna be okay?”
Hands chose that moment to groan, blinking slowly.
“What the fuck happened?” he asked, his voice a hoarse whisper. Time to bring it home.
“I tripped over the hose and knocked you down,” I told him, hoping I didn’t sound too pleased with myself. “I’m really fuckin’ sorry about that. Here, let me help you out.”
Slowly I rose to my feet, reaching down to pull him up behind me. He swayed, obviously still a little stunned. Damn, I got him good.
“How’s the head?” the Nighthawk brother asked. “You gonna be okay?”
Hands started to nod, then he winced. I exchanged a look with the older man, eyes flicking to his name patch. Cord. Huh.
“You think he needs the ER?” I asked.
“No ER,” Hands said quickly. “I just gotta sit down for a while.”
“I’m real sorry,” I said again. “No hard feelings?”
Hands stared at me, and I could see he was having trouble tracking. I really needed to buy Sadie some flowers, because this couldn’t have gone better if I’d scripted it. Sometimes the good guys actually win.
“Uh, no prob . . . fuck . . .”
“Let’s get him home,” Cord said. He turned to look around, spotting another prospect. “Get your ass over here!”
The kid hesitated, as if wondering whether he should listen to Cord. That confirmed it—there were definitely two factions, and this guy wasn’t on Marsh’s side. Good to know. The big man cracked his knuckles and spoke again. “Get your ass over here. You’re not in the fuckin’ club yet, cocksucker.”
Interesting—how the hell had Marsh come into power with this guy around? Didn’t add up.
“Take this loser home,” Cord said, nodding toward Hands. “You can use the truck.”
The prospect leaned over, grabbing Hands under the arms to drag him out.
“Want some help?” I asked. “Feel kinda responsible.”
The prospect looked to Cord again, silently asking for permission this time. Better. It was already clear that we’d have to clean house at some point, but this particular brother gave me some hope that it wouldn’t be a totally lost cause.
“What’s your name?” Cord asked.
“Levi,” I told him. “Just came by for the party with my cousin, Cooper. Talia—that girl over there—she invited us.”
Cord nodded, looking faintly disgusted.
“I’m sure he could use the help with this piece of shit,” he said. “Thanks.”
And that was that. I helped the prospect carry Hands out to a battered old truck parked on the far side of the building. He was conscious but not particularly alert as we tossed him into the backseat. Perfect.
“Thanks for the help,” the young prospect said, firing up the engine as I took the passenger seat. “He’s small but he’s heavy. I’m Cody, by the way.”
“Good to meet you,” I said. “Sorry about this.”
“Not your fault. I’m pretty new, but stuff like this happens all the time. That girl always pukes, too. No idea why they keep letting her come around—we always have to clean up after her.”
That’s your fuckin’ job, prospect. This guy would last about ten minutes at the Armory.
“Yeah, that’s weird. So how long you been with the club?”
“Only a couple weeks,” he admitted. “They’re looking for new members, though, and it’s always sounded kind of fun. I’m saving up for my bike right now.”
It took a minute for his words to sink in.
“You don’t have a bike?”
“Well, I’ve got a dirt bike, but nothing street legal. Marsh said it was okay, so long as I get one in the next month.”
I had literally no place in my head to put this information. Fucking hell, the club wasn’t just dysfunctional . . . it wasn’t even a real club. No wonder Pipes had issues. He must be losing his mind, hearing about shit like this, powerless to do a damned thing to stop it. We passed through town and turned down a gravel road off the highway, stopping after half a mile at an isolated trailer. I bit back a pleased smile—couldn’t have asked for a better setup. I’d head out here later tonight and take care of this fucker, easy.
Almost too easy. Was it some kind of trap?
“Here we go,” Cody said. “Hands, you got a key?”
“S’unlocked,” the man in the backseat managed to say. “No worries.”
Cody gave me a concerned look.
“You think he’s gonna die here, we leave him?” he asked. I shrugged.
“You got an order to take him home,” I said. “That means we bring him home. He’ll be fine, I’m sure.”
“Okay.”
Ten minutes later we had Hands laid out across his couch, and I’d even covered him in an old afghan I’d found tossed across the back of a chair. I’m thoughtful like that.
“Back to the party now?” Cody asked. I nodded.
“Yeah, gotta figure out how to get my date home. She’s kind of fucked up.”
“Who’re you with?” he asked, eyes lighting up. I could’ve laughed, the poor kid looked so desperate.
“Sadie,” I said shortly.
“Sadie the Sprayer?” he asked, wrinkling his nose. Fuck, not even the prospects wanted her.
“Yeah. Sadie the Sprayer,” I admitted.
“Hope you like barf,” the kid said, snorting. “She’s hot, but watch out—that chick is disgusting.”
Christ. No wonder she needed Talia to find her dates.
• • •
I wasn’t able to shake Sadie until nearly three in the morning. The good news was I managed to get the Princess of Puke home without her falling along the way. She’d even sobered up a bit, probably because none of the booze managed to stay in her for long.
Fucking hell, but the club owed me for this one in a big way.
I got back to the hotel first, so I settled in to watch some TV and wait for Gage. He showed up around four a.m., looking rough.
“Have fun with Talia?” I taunted softly, sitting up to grab my boots. Still a lot of work ahead of us for the night—Hands was waiting.
“Fuck off.”
“Did you know they call Sadie ‘the Sprayer’?”
Gage shook his head, and he had the grace to look sheepish. “Only met her once before, and she wasn’t that drunk. Sorry about that—I had no idea what you were in for.”
I nodded, accepting his apology.
“What’s the story with Hands?” he asked.
“Took him home with the prospect, so we know where he lives now. We can go over there and talk to him, then bag him up for Rance. Nice to have a witness that I left him safe and sound hours ago. Nothing to connect me when he disappears. You ready to go?”
Gage sighed, reaching for the mini-fridge. He pulled out a Red Bull, offering it to me silently. I shook my head, knowing the adrenaline would wake me up once we got to work on our victim. Hopefully he’d be alert enough to talk. Gage popped the can open and chugged it.
“Talia tire you out, old man?”
He flipped me off, then grabbed a backpack and pulled out a snub-nosed pistol.
“Let’s go.”
• • •
Ten minutes later we were driving toward Hands’s trailer in a little SUV Gage produced out of nowhere. I wasn’t sure how he got it and I sure as shit wasn’t going to ask. I also didn’t ask about the tarp, the duct tape, the two metal bats, or the pliers—I trusted he knew what he was doing and that he hadn’t left a trail behind us.
Hopefully there wouldn’t be any complications, but if there were, our cover was that I’d lost my phone and we’d come out to look for it. I’d mentioned it to Sadie, and she’d even helped me hunt for it as we left the party.
“Nice place,” Gage said dryly as we pulled to a stop. No lights on inside, no signs of life at all.
“Fuck, I hope he’s not dead or something,” I said as we walked toward the door.
“Nah, he didn’t hit that hard. You take point, I’ll cover.”
Hands didn’t answer the door when I knocked, but I’d left it unlocked. Opening it slowly, I saw the fucker was still laid out on the couch, sleeping like a baby. A really ugly, Nazi baby.
I’d expected more of a challenge.
“Inside,” I told Gage. He followed me in, keeping his gun close as he did a quick search of the trailer. I wasn’t carrying these days—that’d be a one-way trip back to Cali if they found it. My parole officer might be on the club payroll but he wasn’t a miracle worker.
Gage came back into the living room, then jerked his chin toward our target. You ready?
Yeah, I told him with a nod, taking up a position out of his line of fire, but close enough I could jump the fucker if he tried to pull something stupid.
“Wake up, asshole,” Gage said. Hands didn’t move. Shit, did he have brain damage or something? The fall had knocked him out . . . That’d suck. I mean, it wasn’t like the guy had much of a future ahead of him or anything—not after what he’d done to Bolt—but we needed answers first.
“Hands—we’re talkin’ to you,” I said, kicking the couch. The man stirred, frowning as he opened his eyes. I clocked the instant he saw the gun pointed at him, because his entire body jerked before going very still. Handsy-boy might’ve been sleeping before, but he was sure as shit awake now.
“Oh fuck,” he said, staring at Gage. Guess that solved the question of whether he’d recognize him. “Fuck!”
In an instant, Hands launched himself across the room toward Gage, obviously aware he wouldn’t be talking his way out of this one. I jumped for him, tackling him before he could get close. There was no real question who’d win, of course. I was a big guy, and the little rat didn’t stand a chance. That didn’t stop him from fighting like his life depended on it, which made sense. It did.
We scrabbled across the floor, crashing into the coffee table. I heard the sound of something breaking, which sucked because you don’t want to leave a trail at times like this. Now we’d have to torch the place. That pissed me off, so when I got the chance I let him have it, shoving my knee hard into his balls.
Hands screamed, going limp as I straddled him, catching the front of his shirt to jerk his head up.
“Your call how bad this needs to be,” I snarled. “Play nice and it won’t hurt so much.”
He answered me with a head-butt and my nose crunched. Grunting, I slammed his head down into the floor, then caught him across the cheek with a full-power punch. Sweet fire tore through my knuckles, balancing the pain of my nose and clearing my mind. I hit him two more times, then thumped his head against the thin carpet before I realized Gage was shouting.
“Jesus, Painter! He’s out again—let it go!”
I turned to glare at him, snarling.
“Stop,” Gage said, his voice like ice. It cut through the haze and I dropped my arm.
“Shit,” I said, coming back to myself. I looked down at the man’s mashed and bloodied face. “Ah fuck. Sorry about that.”
“You got some anger management issues,” Gage observed, frowning.
“He broke my fuckin’ nose,” I said, poking at it tentatively. Ouch. Then I looked around. Fucking hell—there was blood all over the floor, shit broken . . . “This sucks.”
“Yeah,” Gage said, frowning. “Gonna have to burn everything. I’ll make it look like an accident, though.”
“Sorry about that.”
He shook his head. “Don’t apologize—getting out clean was a long shot, and once you started bleeding it was all over. That’s on him. No worries.”
