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All Nelle wanted to do was cry. She wanted someone to hold her. Instead, she took a deep breath and kept herself calm and rocked her sisters. She swore to herself that someday she would get revenge for this…
Someday…
“Today,” Nelle whispered.
She stood up and wiped the corner of her eyes, then walked to the door and opened it. When she turned to go down the hallway, someone grabbed her arm and spun her around. A hand pressed to her mouth and shoved her against the wall. She hit with a thud.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Nelle… okay? I just need you… I just need you so they’ll listen to me… okay? That’s all… okay?”
Nelle stared forward, blinking quick…
… wanting to know what the hell Fitz was doing…
They lined up at the top of a ridge to have the perfect view. Cyrus, Linc, Slade, Priest. Darrow and Custer were in the van. Everything had fallen into place.
A private conversation between Cyrus and Damien ended with a partial agreement. Thalia and Calista’s murders would be forgotten. It was sad and not the proper way for their lives to end, but this was the outlaw world. A world beyond the line of good and evil, crime and conviction.
Cyrus knew he could easily sway Chief Dick, making it known that bigger players were involved in the murders and they had to go away. Of course Chief Dick would want someone to take the fall for the murders. That part was easy enough.
Chief Dick was more rotten than a piece of meat left out in the sun for a month. He’d come up with someone to take the fall for the murders. It would take the heat off the club. Take the heat off the chief. And settle the town down.
Cyrus told Damien he’d never forget who murdered those women. Damien’s reply?
Whining over little whores…
The bigger prize was the father.
Christopher.
First name basis. That’s all Damien needed to hear. After all, it was Christopher who hit Damien over the head that night… all those years ago…
Cyrus also made it very clear that Nelle was untouchable. That if any of Damien’s guys came near her, Damien included, things would get bloodier than Damien could ever possibly understand.
The conversation was firm because it needed to be firm. Simple as that. Both men agreed. A handshake of sorts over the phone. And now they waited for the end result.
“Should we get her out of the van?” Cyrus asked Slade.
“She’ll come out if she wants,” Slade said. “Just keep eyes on things. In case something goes wrong.”
“We’ve got a car,” Linc said.
Linc passed a pair of binoculars to Slade. Slade put them to his eyes. A piece of shit car rolled up to the middle of nowhere. It turned off and the driver’s side door opened.
You’d think that alone would be a red flag to someone. But Nelle’s father was a pure degenerate. He stepped out of the car wearing a white suit. Slicked back gray hair and a rough looking face. His sunglasses were too big for his face. Smoking a cigarette. He looked like a shady pimp from some casino movie.
Slade wanted to go down there and kill this bastard himself. A couple seconds later, cars appeared from nowhere. And it was literally that.
From fucking nowhere.
It made Slade swallow hard. These Russian mafia guys were smart and sleek. Five cars pointed at Nelle’s father. He started to laugh… right up until Damien climbed out of one of the cars.
“It’s going down now,” Slade said.
“We can see,” Cyrus said. “At least most of it.”
Nelle’s father obviously began to try and sweet talk Damien, but it didn’t mean a thing to him. Damien punched Nelle’s father in the stomach, dropping him to his knees. Three men pounced and they had Nelle’s father taped up in a matter of seconds. Ankles. Wrists. Mouth. Eyes. He was then carried and tossed into the trunk of one of the cars.
Just as fast as they showed up, the five cars drove away, leaving two men behind. They got into Nelle’s father car.
