Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 79007 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79007 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
"Girls club. Summer is wrecked," he supplied, moving off, talking in his growl to, I would imagine, Lo, who would make all the calls from there.
"I thought all this shit was over," Duke said, raking his hands down his face.
"I don't think it's related," I supplied without thinking, realizing I would have to make my case as all their eyes fell on me. "They didn't pull up until Lyon's feet were completely off of Henchmen turf," I explained. "I think if someone has an enemy, it is him, not us."
"Guns," Repo supplied, appearing out of nowhere. I don't think he was even at the clubhouse. But, then again, he lived right down the side street, so maybe he just came when he heard trouble. "Now!" he snapped when no one moved to throw them in the pail he had grabbed from the side of the building. "Got less than a minute before the cops show up. Need this shit gone. Innocent bystanders."
The thing was, for once, we all truly were.
If the target was Lyon, and he wasn't taken down on Henchmen land, then it had nothing to do with us.
Though, I did personally think that it was some kind of muscle-flexing to do it in front of our clubhouse.
Lyon might have lived in a fortress, but I was sure there were other places to take him down that didn't involve another organization in the area.
"Someone's steppin' up," Wolf informed us as he came in from the street, having bypassed Reign and Summer, likely figuring it was a private moment.
"And not for nothing," Duke said, shaking his head. "But Lyon was the only one keeping V in check."
V was a little before my time, but as I understood it, was a violent, skin-trading, heinous bitch. And I don't use the b-word all that often. She also had the rare distinction of being Richard's ex... and Summer's mother. And after shit went down when Reign met Summer, Lyon had been able to get his hands on his ex, then lock her in his own private cell on his estate.
What did it mean that he was dead?
Did his men have some kind of orders for when they knew someone took him out?
Was she to be moved?
Killed?
God fucking forbid... set free?
Would there even be any men left after tonight?
Were the shooters on their way there next? Or on their way back from there?
If someone else was stepping in on the cocaine trade, what did that mean for the dynamic in Navesink Bank that had been working somewhat harmoniously for many years, everyone keeping to themselves, running their own empires, and leaving the others to do the same?
If there was a new player in town, what were the chances that they were going to play by the rules of those who came before them?
And what could it possibly mean if they found, and teamed up, with someone as evil as V?
These were questions for later, though, as red and blue lights suddenly came flying down the street.
Another day, another police interrogation.
And another man laying dead in the street.
NINE
Reese
It was the first story on the news when I flipped on the TV to hear the weather report.
Shots fired. Henchmen compound. One confirmed dead.
That was pretty much all my brain seemed capable of processing right then.
My heart started frantically slamming against my ribcage as my stomach seemed to drop down to the floor. I turned so fast that I overturned my coffee cup, sending it splashing, and the ceramic cup crashing, all over my kitchen.
But I didn't stop on my run back to my bedroom, ripping my phone off the charging cable, likely hard enough to break either it or my phone port, but not caring one whit as I scrolled for Cyrus' number, and hit dial.
It went to voicemail.
So I dialed again.
And again.
And again.
All the while, I was cursing myself for pushing him away, for putting it off, knowing that, if something happened to him, I would never forgive myself, I would never fully get over it.
But there was no answer.
Not the first or second or twenty-sixth time.
Heart in my throat, and not fully sure I actually ran a brush through my hair as I slammed into clompy, ugly winter boots because they were the first thing I reached for, I ran out of my apartment to drive in that direction.
I couldn't stop like I wanted to, though, because the front gates were taped off, the lights were off, and there was a patrol car parked out front, looking around at the street.
Still choking on my own heart, unsure what else I could do, I drove down the street to The Creamery even though it was too early. I sat in my car for over two hours, calling, texting, getting no answer at first, then going right to voicemail toward the end.