CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
No one talks.The surveillance booth hums around us, monitors flickering, chatter over the radios from the day shift team, the air still carrying an echo of the gunshot like it hasn’t figured out it’s long since been over.
The blood is gone from my hands, but I still feel it. I revel in it. Warm. Slick. And absolutely fucking necessary.
Maverick stands at the center of the room, his eyes on the screens, jaw tense and arms crossed. Slater leans back in his chair, arms behind his head, watching the same feed with Mav. Cole sits off to the side with Jeremy, watching a different angle of the same footage. Of the moment that piece of shit signed his own death certificate. The two say nothing. Kellen, Declan, Owen and Levi file into the room and park themselves along the back wall.
Mav glances over his shoulder at the four of them, then turns to shake their hands.
“Morning boys,” he says. “Were you able to get anything on whoever that was?” No pleasantries, jumping right to business.
“Stan Billings. Forty-three years old. Married, or at least he had a wedding ring on. Fucking scum bag,” Kellen starts. “License says Nevada. Best guess: he was here on business.”
“On it,” Slater clips, pulling up his background software, already running the guy's name before Mav can say anything.
“And the body?” I ask.
“Driven to your old warehouse and disposed of as ordered,” Levi chimes in.
“Good.” Mav nods, and turns back to Slater.
The room goes quiet again, my body humming in sync with the monitors. The four newbies eye me warily while the rest continue watching monitors. They’re sizing me up, trying to figure out if I’m completely out of my fucking mind or not. They’re going to need to get on board soon, or they’re not going to make it. Maverick didn't bring them in on a whim. Nothing he does is sporadic or without reason.
The door bursts open, slamming against the wall, causing all the monitors to shake. Slowly, we all turn in unison to see Michael storm into the room, flanked by Nico. His eyes burn with anger, his entire body tense.
“What the fuck did you do to my club?” he hisses.
Maverick slowly turns, glancing at me quickly, then levels Michael with a lethal stare.
“Hello, Michael. Nice of you to join us. I suggest you calm the fuck down, and then we can fill you in.”
“Listen to me you little shit,” Michael starts, pointing a shaky finger at Mav. He glances at the digit before his gaze slowly drags back up to Michael’s contorted face, and smirks. I rise from my chair, knocking it backward and step to Maverick’s side. Slater,Jeremy, and Cole stand behind us. The four against the wall tense slightly, but remain silent.
“Dad, calm down,” Jeremy speaks calmly.
“You sit down and shut the fuck up,” Michael barks at his son. Jeremy doesn’t budge, but I step forward.
“Don’t ever speak to him like that again.” My head tilts, “Understand me?”
Nico steps into his boss’ back, “Mike, relax. Let them explain.”
“Explain what? The murder of one of MY casino’s patrons? The potential police investigation that will likely end with them in prison. Including my fucking son!” His voice echoes off the booth walls. I bark out a laugh.
“That’s your concern,Mike?Not the five people that have disappeared from this casino? Or how about the fact that one of your employees was nearly attacked last night?” I step closer to him, and everyone behind me takes a step back. The guys along the back wall shift left. I grin.
“You work forme,” he jabs his chest. He opens his mouth, but before he can say anything else, I grab him by the collar of his too-neat suit jacket, and walk him backward to the wall.
Thanks boys.
His back slams into the wall and his eyes widen in disbelief.
Oh no. How dare I?
“Do I need to remind you of the contract?” I ask calmly.
“Cain Defenses is the exclusive security authority for Perdition,” Maverick recites behind me. “All surveillance, enforcement and response will fall under the authority of Cain Defenses. Maverick Cain and Karson Tate retain full discretion to implement protective measures as they deem necessary, without limitation or interference.” Michael struggles under my hold. “For the duration of the facility’s operation.”
I lean into Michael, my body pinning his to stop his obnoxious fucking thrashing, and bring my face to his. “I don’t fucking work for you,” I say casually. “None of us do. Not even him.” His eyes flash to his son.
