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Myla stared down at the floor, then slowly began to sign,I don’t know if I can stay in here for two days. I’m already going a little crazy, and I don’t like being away from Vox.
I get that. But it’ll be over soon, and when it’s safe again, we’ll all go back to our normal lives.
There was a knock on the door, quickly followed by a woman sticking her head into the room. She was one of the club member’s old ladies. “You girls hungry? We’ve made some fried chicken to tide everyone over.”
I looked at Myla.Hungry?
I could eat.
Chapter 30
Nick
“How doyou want to handle this?” Vox asked.
We were standing outside the warehouse where the shooter was being questioned. Balancing my lit cigarette between my lips, I stared at the building. There was only one way in or out, but I had no intention of getting myself killed. Gunnar forfeited his life the second he put a bullet in my brother’s back. I didn’t need a thing more—nothing other than his confession. I needed to hear him say the words, so that when I pulled the trigger, I would know that my vengeance was satisfied.
I retrieved the small Ruger .22 from my saddle bag, making sure it was loaded before tucking it into the front of my pants and settling my t-shirt over it. Next, I pulled out the Glock from the small of my back, checking it before setting it back into position.
Taking one final pull of my cigarette, I flicked the used butt onto the ground and stepped on the glowing end. “Make sure nobody else comes in until I’m done.”
“You got it.” His gray eyes tightened in the corners.
“What?”
“What if you’re wrong, man? You said yourself that you were falling in and out of consciousness.”
Yes, I’d been going in and out, but those words—hiswords—would stay with me for the rest of my life.Thosewords were tattooed on my brain. “I know what I heard.”
Vox paused for a beat, then replied, “Then I have your back.”
Holding out my hand to him, he clasped my forearm, and I pulled him in for a sharp, swift embrace. “Thank you.”
He nodded, but his eyes were still wary. I understood the apprehension. What I was about to do amounted to premeditated murder of a club brother. Gunnar wasn’t so high in the ranks that it would be a problem. There were quite a few members who could effectively take the position of enforcer after he was a corpse. Whatwouldbe a problem is getting rid of the VP’s pet, but I couldn’t let this shit slide.
And that was what I repeated to myself as I strolled through the door, taking in the vast warehouse. It was empty except for a chair in the middle of the room—bolted to the concrete floor—and a rolling table that currently had a collection of tools laid out on the top. Gunnar’s body was blocking the view of the shooter, but I could see the other man’s feet twitching from the pain. A moment later, Gunnar flicked a piece of… something from the guy. It landed with a soft, fleshysquelch.
“Nobody is going to save you from me, you know,” he said in a low voice. “It’s just you, me, and my tools.”
I froze. Waiting. Wondering.
“Of course, they’ll ask me what you told me.” Gunnar picked up a pair of needle nose pliers and waved them in front of the guy’s face. “You understand that it’s not personal, right, Harrison? It’s simply… business.”
And there it is.
The shooter—Harrison, apparently—made a muffled sound of protest, but Gunnar gave a little hum of disapproval. “No, don’t clamp your mouth shut. You’ll just make things harder for yourself.” His admonishment was met with more mutedobjections before there was a grunt. Resting his knee in the space between the guy’s legs as he thrashed in his seat, Gunnar leaned forward and started to work.
“Gunnar!”
He turned around, eyes narrowing on my face. “What the fuck are you doing here, Nick?”
Knowing Gunnar was the last person to see my brother alive, had my hands clenching and unclenching. He was supposed to be my best friend—my oldest friend. He wasn’t like this before I went away. Kaash had twisted him—molded him—into something inherentlyoppositeof what he was. Jesus, I was such a fucking idiot to believe that performance he served me when he came to tell me Dimitri was dead.
“I’ve come for the fucking man who killed my brother.”
He stilled, cocking his head to the side before a grin slid into place. “I was wondering how long it was going to take you to figure it out.” His eyes dropped to my throat—to the bruises that had darkened—his grin turning feral. “I guess Kaash got tired of waiting.” Tossing the pliers haphazardly onto the rolling tray, he asked, “What did he tell you?”
“That you killed my brother.”
