Then I enter Bullseye’s office. “You spoken to Tyrant?”
His glare makes me take a step back. “Yeah, I fuckin’ did. Had to admit I had a pussy enforcer who didn’t know his shit. Didn’t reflect well on me that I first ordered a hit, then pulled it off at the last minute.”
“You want me to speak to him?”
“Fuck yeah.”
It’s only a second before my phone pings. Glancing down, I notice he’s sent me the number. I hoped he’d leave me alone to eat humble pie, but he just sits there, arms crossed and glaring.
I hit Tyrant’s contact. The phone rings a couple of times.
“What do you want, asshole?”
“Tyrant?” At his grunt, I continue, “It’s Freak. Enforcer for the Arizona Kings.”
“Yeah, yeah. You got your prez to call in a favour, to pick up a woman you wanted dead, only to rescind the order when we’d already collected her. Now you want her to live?”
“It’s complicated.” Filling my lungs with much-needed oxygen, I explain the position and give him the abridged version of her history. I finish by admitting there had been strong indications she’d betrayed us, but that had turned out to be wrong.
“So what do you want me to do with her? She sounds like she’s still a loose end. She kidnapped your fuckin’ son? And you want her breathing?”
“It’s complicated,” I repeat. When Tyrant snorts, I continue, “The original idea was when we knew where she landed, to ask the local Kings to keep eyes on her. How does that sit with you, Tyrant?”
There’s silence on the line, then a barked laugh. “Kind of think we’ve overplayed that hand. She’s already shitting herself. We weren’t exactly gentle with her.”
Fuck, fuck, and fuck. If she leaves their clubhouse, she’s going to run. And next time, having learned her lesson, she won’t make contact. If she’s smart, she’ll ditch the phone Pippa gave her. She’ll disappear off the map, and this time with a genuine reason to want to do the Kings harm.
Tyrant speaks again. “She’s a good looker. Might appeal to my men.”
I snort. “She’s got good reason not to trust an MC. I wasn’t exactly kind to her after she stole my son. I don’t see how anyone could persuade her we’re the good guys.”
“Ain’t my problem if she runs. That’s on you.”
He’s not lying. I draw in a deep breath and let out a sigh.
“Look, Freak, I’ll do my best. Put it to her that this was a case of mistaken identity. Try to soften her up. No promises.” He pauses. “Could get my ol’ lady to talk to her.”
“It’s not your problem, it’s mine.”
“That it is.”
He ends the call.
Bullseye’s still got his eyes on me. “You’re the fuckin’ enforcer, Freak. You gonna keep making mistakes?”
“I’m a fuckup,” I admit.
He shakes his head. “Seems like taking an ol’ lady affects the fuckin’ brain. First Saint, then Short, now you. Fuckin’ hope it’s the last of it in the club.” He chuckles. “Tell you this, there’s not one woman alive that I’m gonna lose my head over. Now, get out of here, Freak. Oh.” His voice stops me before I get to the door. “That shit you wanted organised? Dum is setting off about now. And you might want to tell that ol’ lady of yours, she’s well thought of, and they were happy to oblige.”
Fuck yeah.
I get out of there. At last, I have good news for Trixie. She’s bound to appreciate what I’ve arranged. She’s suffered enough.
“Freak.”
Glancing up, I see it’s Saint who’s called to me. He’s perched on a barstool, waving me over. I go to join him. He tilts his head toward the drink sitting in front of him, and I accept the unspoken invitation.
“Double Jack.” I rap my hand on the bar, getting Dum/Dee’s attention, idly noticing his shirt tonight reads,It’s a Gravedigger thing, you wouldn’t understand.I don’t think I want to be illuminated.
