Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 128585 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 643(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 429(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128585 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 643(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 429(@300wpm)
“Pig.” Betsy rolled her eyes.
“I’m good, thank you, Eric,” Cheska said, smiling, then lowered her eyes. I saw my family casting glances to each other, wondering what was wrong with her.
“It means a lot to me,” she said, voice tight, and I held her closer. She turned to look at me, and I frowned. “I’m okay,” she said, reading my fucking mind as always.
I was just about to push her for more answers when my phone rang. Charlie’s went off too. Charlie looked at his phone and spat, “Fuck!” He met my eyes. I pulled out my phone and saw the message. My blood boiled in my veins.
“Fuck,” I growled and lifted Cheska off my lap.
Ronnie was on her feet in two seconds when she saw the message. “I’m coming.” All my family received the message, one by one.
“We’re all coming,” Betsy said. I glanced at Cheska. “She’ll have to come. Gene too. There’ll be no one here to watch them. Unless you want me to call in some soldiers.”
“They’re fucking coming,” I said. My family knew I wouldn’t trust any fucker but one of these with her, with Gene. We all went for the cars. Cheska gripped my hand as we piled into the back seat of my Bentley.
“What’s happened?” she asked, eyes wide.
“A shipping container has been dumped on my newest dock.”
“Okay,” she said. “A container of what?”
I ran my hand over the stubble on my chin. “Women,” I said and saw the question in Cheska’s eyes. “Trafficked women.”
The colour fell from her face, then she held my hand tighter as we made for the docks. I replayed the message again. The soldiers guarding the docks had all been wiped out. Mikey, one of my generals, had gone to check on the next shipment and saw the gates were wide open, bodies fucking everywhere. He’d found the dumped shipping container, peered through a crack, and seen a fuck-ton of women in cages inside, drugged to the bloody eyeballs and stark naked.
This was Old Sammy’s dock. He still owned it. We just paid him a truckload of money to use it. I’d had it for a few fucking weeks. That was it. And already whoever had been fucking with us had targeted it.
Cheska was silent on the way. Her fucking birthday. The pricks had struck on her fucking birthday. As we travelled the roads, quieter because of Bonfire Night, crashes and bangs exploded around us. Cheska leaned against the window, watching the fireworks burst into the sky. But she never let go of my hand.
Finally, we entered the road leading to the dock. I saw the gate as we passed, the hinges blown and the gates hanging wide open. I narrowed my eyes as I stared at my men dead on the ground. Cheska’s hand was shaking, and when I cut a glance her way, her eyes closed, blocking out the sight of my soldiers bleeding out on Old Sammy’s tarmac.
The car came to a stop and the engine cut out. The car was silent. I released Cheska’s hand, needing to get out and deal with this shit, but she held on tight and shifted her arse along the back seat to my side. “I’m coming with you,” she said and lifted that fucking chin.
Leaning over, I took her mouth in a bruising kiss, then opened the door. The sound of fireworks echoed off the docks. I made my way to Mikey and saw he’d already had soldiers stationed around, patrolling the perimeter. His eyes fixed on Cheska as I approached him, no doubt wondering who the fuck she was to me. My brothers and sisters fell into step beside me. Vera and Ronnie flanked Cheska, keeping her protected.
The rain started falling, and my attention fell on the red shipping container. “How the fuck did that get here and no fucker saw?” Eric asked and moved closer to the container.
“No one was left to be a witness.” Mikey blew on his hands as the fucking cold wrapped around him. He threw his thumb in the direction of the corpses being lined up along the side of the yard—our men, fucking cut down and murdered. “The next shift doesn’t come in for a couple of hours. It’s skeleton staff until then. They took them all out.”
“Cameras?” Charlie asked, and I heard the pissed-off edge to his voice.
“Cameras were cut, then wiped. No fucking trace of anyone.”
I felt the telltale signs of my anger start burning in the bottom of my spine. It swept through my bones and cells until I was made of nothing but rage and fire. People were fucking petrified of us. We should have been able to leave all our docks wide open, our gear completely visible, and no fucker would take them for fear of our wrath. That was the fucking reputation I’d built since my old man had been taken down. We were the fucking London Town reapers. You fucked with us and we’d come for your fucking souls. Whoever was doing this was either new to London and or had a fucking death wish.