Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 117494 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 470(@250wpm)___ 392(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117494 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 470(@250wpm)___ 392(@300wpm)
“You’re the leader.”
I gave a nod. “Suppose that’s what they call me.”
Her eyes went to the guys in the truck. “Those are Marco Estrada’s men.”
“You know that before they swept you up?”
“No. I would’ve known them without because of their neck tattoos.”
Claudia was in the truck by now, and Roadie had half of an arm around her, on the back of the seat. She wasn’t curled into him, but she wasn’t on the other side of the seat. Her head was buried in her lap and she was shaking from silent sobbing.
I gave a nod in their direction. “You want to fill me in on what they did to my man’s woman?”
She looked over, another heavy sigh leaving her. “They didn’t touch her in any way, if that’s what you’re asking. They told her that they killed her sister. They do that to mine, I’d take a knife to their balls. Unconscious or not.”
“They told her what?”
She looked back, her eyes flaring a little. “They murdered her sister–”
I was moving before she finished, going to the truck. “Claudia.”
I rested a foot on the bottom rung, a hand on the top of the door and I waited for her to look my way.
She didn’t. She kept shaking from the middle of the seat.
“She ain’t dead, Claudia.”
She sniffed once and lifted her head. Her face was wet from the tears, and she sniffled again, using the back of her arm to wipe over her face. “Say what?”
“They took her, but they didn’t keep her. The brainiacs that took you were the ones who lost her.”
Her mouth parted, and she was absolutely still. “It’s not a good idea to fuck with me right now, Ghost.”
“Not fucking with you, in any way. Your sister’s alive and sitting in Frisco territory right now, far away from these assholes.”
“You’re saying Kali is alive?”
A firm nod from me. “My woman is alive.”
Roadie snorted, now relaxing and slumping a little in the seat. “If she was dead, you think he’d be standing here all calm-like and talking to you? Fuck no. Ghost would be ghost, hockey mask and all and he’d be gone.” He whistled, shaking his head. “These guys would’ve been toast the second we found ’em, and he’d be off, going for the next round all by himself if he could’ve. Nah, woman. Your sister is alive.”
Claudia’s eyes were bulging at me, and she was breathing hard. Her chest was rising. “My man?”
“Probably pissed as fuck at us, but he’s alive too. Bullet went through him.”
“Why’d he be pissed at you?”
“Because we came to get you without him. I wanted this mission done with one of the guys alive to be questioned. That wouldn’t have happened with your man here, whether you were hurt or not.”
She blinked, and her whole body shuddered. She slumped back. “Thank GOD! Thank GOD!” But she was yelling and punching the dashboard before she tried to twist around to look at the guys in the back. “I want at ’em, Ghost! They fucking told me they killed my sister. They said that shit to me.”
Oh, Christ.
I eased back from the door, but said to Roadie, “Contain her.”
“I’ll try.”
Tracey moved next to me, and she motioned for the open seat. “I’m guessing that’s for me?” She scanned the horizon around us. “They were trying to call Estrada to get his orders. I don’t know if they got through or not, but speaking on behalf of my hide, I’d like to move on out of these parts? Maybe have a meeting somewhere else? Somewhere that’s safe?”
I eyed her, but gave a nod. As she got into the seat, I gave a short whistle to Roadie and signaled him for no cell phones, then I motioned to the two women. He gave me the slightest nod before starting the engine.
After that, Corvette and I hopped up into the back.
Boise was coming back out of the house, and he lingered long enough to throw a match inside.
He took off, and jumped into the back with us. All of us got down, just in case, but it wasn’t long before the house was burning bright. It was always a good idea to torch any possible evidence behind us, if anything to slow down Estrada on making his next move. Or I was hoping, thinking he might want to wait for reports of bodies found in that fire.
Roadie drove us to where our bikes were.
We’d called ahead so a few of our guys were waiting when we arrived. One was a prospect and he hopped off the back of a bike, heading over to the truck. Roadie got out, and the guy got in. He’d be the driver.
Stripes was one of the guys who came to meet us, and he came over to me. “Machete is pissed at you.”