Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 132332 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 529(@250wpm)___ 441(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132332 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 529(@250wpm)___ 441(@300wpm)
“We don’t have time for a big production.” I nudge Rock’s shoulder. “We killing them here or at the funeral home?”
“Here will be easier. Less chance of them getting loose.” Rock shoots one final warning glare at Merlin and releases him. Z steps closer to Rock, whispering something in his ear.
I nod to Merlin. “Whitey’s all yours.” I refuse to be the only one killing men tonight.
Merlin nods and pulls out a revolver.
“Get him up.” I motion to Thumbs with my gun.
Murphy pulls Thumbs to his feet.
His wild eyes search our faces as my brothers and I close in on him. “I don’t want to die.”
As if he has a choice. “You should’ve thought about that before you went after my family.”
“We didn’t have a choice!” Whitey yells. “Merlin couldn’t be reached any other way.”
“You always have a choice,” Rock says. “You chose the cowardly one.”
“Don’t kill me.” Thumbs squeezes his eyes shut. “Please, don’t kill me.”
“Did Carter beg you not to hurt him?” I ask in a calm voice.
Despite the situation or maybe because he’s trying to get me to kill him quicker, Thumbs smirks. “He cried like a little pussy.”
“Yeah?” I dig the tip of my gun into his chin. “Did that make you feel like a big man?”
“No…no,” he stammers.
To my right, there’s movement. We’re all so focused on Whitey and Thumbs that Sticks has managed to belly crawl a few feet away. He lurches to his feet and takes off running for the woods.
“Get him,” Rock growls.
“He ain’t going anywhere.” Z throws his arms wide. “We’re in the middle of nowhere.”
“The road’s not that far away.” Dex starts running after the guy.
“Good point.” Z sprints after Dex.
Rooster presses his hand to his side. Blood oozes between his fingers. The corner of his lip curls as if he’s fighting off a wave of pain. “I got tarps in the back of my truck. Some ratchet straps,” he offers. “We’ll roll ’em up like carpets.”
Jiggy cackles and rubs his hands together. “I’ll get ’em.” He slaps Rooster on the back. “Stay put.”
Rooster nods and closes his eyes briefly, swaying on his feet.
“Bro, you don’t need to stick around for this.” I tap Rooster’s shoulder. “You’ve done enough tonight.” More than I have a right to ask him to do. I jerk my head toward my truck. “Watch Carter and June for me? I don’t want them seeing this.”
“You got it.” Rooster slaps my arm and heads for his truck, stopping to talk to Jigsaw for a minute. Rooster ends up pulling his truck next to mine, blocking off Carter and June’s line of sight.
“Carter should see the risks you’re taking to cover his ass,” Merlin says.
“No,” I answer in a flat tone. “He shouldn’t.”
“It’s not his ass we’re covering, is it?” Rock asks in a deadly tone.
“I’m just saying, the boy needs to man up,” Merlin insists.
I blow out a quick, annoyed breath. “Takes all kinds of men to make the world spin, Merlin. Carter’s fine how he is.” Carter’s the kind of man who spent months painstakingly painting murals of unicorns and mermaids all over my niece’s bedroom walls. Something that brings her joy every day. Right about now, it seems a hell of a lot more “manly” than anything Merlin’s accomplished in his whole pathetic life. And more useful than executing people in a desolate field in the middle of the night.
Merlin grunts but keeps his mouth mercifully shut.
Z and Dex drag Sticks back to our party by the arms. Whatever methods they used to subdue him, he’s now quiet.
“Wait.” Jigsaw steps in front of Sticks. “Did you rat out your club?”
“He did what needed to be done for our club,” Whitey says. “Ain’t your business.”
Merlin kicks Whitey in the chin, the crack of his teeth banging together loud enough to make my teeth ache. “No one’s talkin’ to you.”
“You couldn’t take over the club by honest means?” Rock asks. “Or handle it internally? You thought handing over half your club to the Feds was the best way to protect your club?”
“Fuck you.”
Nothing worse than a fucking rat. The whole point of outlaw life is living outside the law. Running to law enforcement to solve your internal club matters is as low as it gets.
I meet Rock’s eyes.
A long time ago, we’d buried our own club’s president for the good of the whole club. We could’ve easily offered Ruger up to the Feds. Instead, one day he just disappeared. Rock set the president’s ring on the table, silently letting everyone know Ruger wouldn’t be returning. We voted him in as our president. The ones who didn’t like it, left. Sway’s method of protest was to form the Downstate New York charter. And as much friction as the two charters had over the years, we didn’t go to the cops to sort it out.