“I sent some prospects out early this morning to get everything ready.” Cobra nods to the SUV. “All you gotta do now is take a nice ride out to the desert.”
Nothing saysgetting a job donelike an oversized black Escalade.
Cobra grips my shoulder. “Take care of your business.”
Frank and I get in the back, with Python driving and Mamba in the passenger seat. I didn’t expect Cobra to come. In the MC world, the president makes the deals but seldom gets his hands dirty. That is the job for his Enforcer and number one cage fighter.
Mamba turns in his seat and does some air boxing. “Looking forward to a little exercise before all that holiday food the next few days.”
“I don’t wanna waste any more time than necessary on this bastard,” Python adds. “My woman’s been baking for the last week, and I’m looking forward to grabbing one of her double chocolate brownies.”
“Shit, all you ever talk about is food,” Mamba jokes.
Python puffs out his chest. “I’m a growing boy.” Then he nods to the cargo space in the back of the vehicle, lowers the custom plexiglass partition, and a low moaning fills the SUV.
“Can’t beat an Escalade for taking out the trash.” Python laughs.
I glance behind me, and Pierce’s wide, wild eyes stare back at me. His wrists and ankles are zip-tied, and a gag is shoved so deep, breathing has to be difficult.
“Trussed up like a holiday turkey.” Mamba laughs around his words.
Pierce tries to speak, but it comes out as a coughing groan.
Python hits a button, the plexiglass comes back up, and silence fills the Escalade again. “No way I’m listening to that asshole all the way out to the desert.”
Frank and I exchange a look. Back in the day, I did a lot of shit for Frank. Even pulled the trigger once, but this is personal for both of us. Getting Jax to flip on us, trying to screw Samson and me out of our business, threatening Cheryl, and whatever the sick fuck did to underage girls.
Yeah, finally giving this bastard what he deserves would be sweet.
18
CHERYL
Portia’s large dark eyes pin me when I enter the family room. “Did Daddy go to work?”
“No, he just had to run an errand.”
“Really?” Portia is perceptive as always, but even I didn’t believe my lie.
Jax and Samson meeting up here first thing in the morning instead of meeting at Wicked. The quick glances at his watch when Nick didn’t think I was looking.
Yeah, something is definitely going one, but I have a better chance of winning the lottery than getting any information out of Nick. Keeping things from me is his way of protecting me, but the not knowing is the worst part.
“Yes, he’ll be back soon.”
Although Frank wasn’t around when I was a child, I knew the life of a criminal firsthand. Living by my wits since I can remember, just to survive and try to provide for myself and my addict mother. She claimed she never told Frank he was my father to keep me safe, but even his mob world had to be safer than living in crack houses with strung-out junkies.
Portia’s savvy eyes narrow. “When?”
My smart, inquisitive child saw right through me.
My first time meeting Nick all those years ago was pure luck, or destiny, depending on how one looked at it. He was making collections for Frank’s organization, and I was waitressing in a club owned by the same organization. At the time, I didn’t know Frank was my father.
It didn’t take long for the sparks to fly, and when Nick and I got together, the combustible tension could light up a city block. We burned everything in our path. I was the match, and he was the fire. All gas and no brakes. Full speed ahead until we teetered on the edge, and it all came crashing down.
“He’ll be home for dinner,” I say with more determination than I feel as I sit next to her on the couch.
“Do you believe that?”
