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CHAPTER ELEVEN
___________________________
A GOOD NIGHT
JUDGE
PULLING UP OUTSIDE Awarehouse that was even more secluded than the clubhouse, I killed my engine and swung off my bike. My adrenaline, already high from the shit at Rye, kicked up a notch. I was coming outta my skin.
If Ophelia hadn’t been around, I’d have put that fucker through the wall for touching her.
I would put this one in the ground.
Stretching my neck as I moved, I walked to the door with Jury at my side and my other brothers at my back.
It’s gonna be a good night.
The door opened as we approached, Beck standing in the doorway, a twisted smile on his face.
He only smiled like that when he knew he’d be torching a place.
Which meant he knew whoever was in there would be ending the night—and his life—with a bullet in the brain.
And that meant I smiled, too.
We were sick fuckers, but I didn’t care.
Glitch took Beck’s position keeping watch out the front door.
“Last room to the left.” Beck stepped outside. “I’m gonna get to work planning.”
“That crazy bastard is gonna get caught humping a fireplace,” Hollywood muttered as we walked through the building, our steps echoing.
“Nah, too contained,” Jury pointed out. “It’ll be a torched building on Main Street.”
They debated the possibilities as they stationed themselves outside the door.
I pushed it open. “Knew it was gonna be a good night. Felt it in my fuckin’ dick.”
Victor Jones sat tied to a chair, his eyes wide and his mouth gagged. Of Nash’s extensive crew, Vic was in the top ten—though that wasn’t saying much since Nash liked to be alone way up at the top.
It was his biggest downfall—besides his love of drugged-up whores. He was greedy. He paid his team shit. He cut corners, hired quantity over quality, and pocketed the savings.
But people who worked for cheap were stupid. And they did stupid things.
Like return to the scene of their crime.
Knowing this, Glitch had wired Ophelia’s apartment with security cameras and silent alarms. It’d taken longer than we’d expected, but they’d been triggered earlier. Nox had been closer to do the pickup, taking him to a warehouse to wait for us.
No, wait for me.
‘Cause if this was about Gus, Nox would be furious if someone took away his chance to make a motherfucker pay.
But first, I wanted any answers the piece of shit was willing to spill in an attempt to save his worthless life.
Nox leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest and his feet at the ankle.
Casual.
