Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 99040 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99040 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
The man panted and gasped for fresh air. “C-Cuba,” he ground out.
Tracker laughed. “Bullshit.”
“Agreed.” Curly looked at Spec, who grinned.
He wrenched his knife out of Dante’s thigh, laughing as the man screamed.
“Save your breath,” Tracker said. “No one can hear you all the way out here.”
“Fuck,” Spec said as he again sank the knife into Dante’s skin. This time, in the man’s shoulder. “Why the hell can’t I keep hold of it? The blood must be making the handle slick. So sorry, man.”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Dante shouted as he writhed on the ground.
“Where do you get the meth?” Curly asked again.
“W-we got a guy who makes it,” Dante ground out around his labored breathing. “L-local.”
That was too easy. Tracker had hoped he’d lie a few more times.
“Good way to make money, huh?” Curly asked. “Cutting your meth with fentanyl. Cheap, readily available. You must be rolling in the cash.”
Dante didn’t answer, just glared at Curly through pain-filled eyes.
Fuck this. They’d be out there all night at this rate. “He asked you a fucking question, asshole,” Tracker said as he kicked Dante hard in his thigh. Same thigh currently soaking his jeans with blood.
“Shit, Track,” Spec said. “You make me proud. Wanna turn at my knife?”
“Nah.” As he stood there, staring down at Dante, Tracker knew exactly what they should do. “Got an idea, Prez,” he said.
“Lay it on me.” Curly shifted his attention from Dante, but Tracker stared at their hostage as he spoke.
“He leads us to their shack, or trailer, or fucking factory. Wherever they’re cooking. We keep him. Lock him up in one of the empty apartments until we’re ready to go.”
Then we raid the fucking place.
He didn’t say it, but the idea was implied.
Curly grinned. “Damn, Track. I like it.”
“Sorry, I’m late.” Jinx appeared out of the darkness. “Ohh, playtime!” He rubbed his hands together. “Do I get a shot?”
“Knock yourself out,” Curly said. “Actually, Ty… you, Pulse, and Jinx get him over to one of the apartments. Don’t be gentle, but make sure he can walk. Pulse, keep him from bleeding out and giving up the ghost.”
“You got it, Prez.”
“Tracker… you, Spec, and I will walk over to my house. Flesh out this idea.”
Tracker nodded. “Let’s do it.”
“Lemme grab my favorite knife. She’s a beauty.”
No one seemed surprised Spec had a slew of knives and a favorite.
Or that he called them she.
He gripped the hilt and slid it out of Dante’s shoulder. As expected, their captive cried out in pain. Spec bobbled the weapon, which magically ended up back in Dante’s body, blade side down, this time in his upper arm. “Goddammit,” Spec said with a straight face. “I should not be allowed to handle these things. I am all fucking thumbs. Think I got a good grip on it this time.” He used Dante’s shirt to wipe the blade clean before sliding it into his boot. “Let’s roll.”
Tracker joined Curly and Spec in the trek across the property to the prez’s house. He trusted his brothers to take care of Dante or call if they ran into trouble.
“Tell me what you’re thinking, Track,” Curly said as they walked.
“We need to hit Lobo wear it hurts. This could be an easy way to do it without bloodshed.”
“Oh, but I love bloodshed,” Spec whined.
Tracker rolled his eyes. “Sure, but we don’t want an all-out war on our hands. If we raid his meth factory or whatever the place is, we can destroy his supply and equipment in one shot. Sure, he could rebuild, but he’s not some business savant. I bet we fuck with his meth operation and we put him out of business. Dante will lead us right to him.”
“What’s to keep Dante from fucking us over? Leading us to a fucking trap?” Spec asked. “I can’t injure him too bad if we’re expecting him to accompany us.”
“Well, he’ll have no way to contact Lobo. And if we act like normal over the next few days, Lobo won’t have any reason to suspect we got his man.”
“And if he refuses?” Spec asked.
“Then we leave him on Lobo’s doorstep with a note saying he told us everything he knew.”
“Whoo, boy, that’s vicious,” Spec said with a laugh. “I fucking love it. How much you wanna bet Dante is scared shitless of his boss?”
“This is a good plan, Tracker. Fucking solid,” Curly said with a nod. It was difficult to see his president’s facial expression with only the moonlight guiding his way, but his words were perfect. “Let’s think on this tonight, meet tomorrow morning, and get working on the details.”
“Should we get Jo in on this?” Spec asked.
Tracker’s jaw nearly hit the ground. “For real?”
Curly nodded. “I think it’s a good idea. She can help keep her department occupied while we do our thing.”
Their acceptance of Jo made Tracker want to do a fucking dance right there, but something still nagged him. “You think she’ll be down for it?” he asked. “She freaked tonight when we went after Dante. Curly had to tackle her.”