Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 131888 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 528(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131888 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 528(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
Law enforcement tended to use dark humor to deal with a constant barrage of tragedies and remain sane.
“What are the odds that they took out that fucker Saint?” Finn glanced around. “Could we be that fucking lucky?”
“It’s hard to kill roaches like him,” Nox murmured.
“A well-placed shot would do the trick,” Finn told him.
“If he was here and not at the fucking motel with T-Bone.”
“We should ask if he’s been identified,” Rez said.
Nox spotted someone in a DEA jacket appearing to be in charge of the crime scene.
“Any survivors?” Nox flashed his ID and the agent glanced at it, then stared at him for a little too long.
“You’re part of the Tri-State task force, right?”
“Yeah.”
The agent then said, “I was supposed to be part of the arrest team this morning.”
“You and me both.”
“That would have been a hell of a lot more fun than dealing with this.”
Nox couldn’t argue that.
“Anyway, if there were any survivors, they took off. Everyone we’ve come across so far is far from a survivor. You guys had cameras set up in here, right?”
“We did, but all our surveillance equipment has already been removed. Our team’s headquarters was dismantled since serving the warrants was the only thing left for some of us to do.”
The agent nodded.
“Is the club’s manager under one of these sheets?”
“You talking about Saint?” the agent asked.
Nox nodded. “That’s him.”
The man pressed his lips together and shook his head. “Didn’t find anyone wearing a cut with that road name. He either wasn’t here or was lucky enough to escape when shit went down.”
Fuck. “That’s unfortunate.”
“I’m sure you’re not the only one with that opinion since I heard he was a real piece of work.”
“Piece of shit more like it,” Nox clarified.
“That, too.”
“Anyway, thanks for the info. We’ll get out of your scene. But before we do, do you need us to identify anyone?”
“No, we got it covered. The dancers and customers all had IDs, and those dumbfuck bikers wear their names on their chests. We’ll just cross-reference their road names to their legal names in our database.”
“I’m assuming the members of La Cosa Nostra you found were foot soldiers.”
“Yeah. Just some plebes willing to give up their lives for a bunch of criminal scum. You’d think these guys would know by now, no one’s getting out of the Mafia alive. Hasn’t everyone seen the Sopranos or the Godfather?”
One side of Nox’s mouth pulled up. “Too late for them to watch them now.”
The agent grinned. “A-fucking-men.”
“Thanks for the info.” Nox clasped palms with the agent, then returned to Finn and Rez. They were talking to a member of the medical examiner staff.
He gathered his brothers, and they headed out, but not before Rez asked, “Saint?”
Nox sighed softly. “Sounds like he wasn’t here. If he was, he got lucky.”
“Well, his woman wasn’t,” Finn told Nox. “They found Cookie back in Saint’s office. News flash, she wasn’t taking a nap.”
“Damn. I wonder if Saint will ever get over the loss of his ol’ lady?” Rez asked.
“Hopefully he’ll find someone new in prison,” Finn answered.
“We can only hope,” Nox said. “Maybe he can be treated in there the same way he treated women out here.” As they headed outside, he announced, “Next stop, the Wolf Den.”
“Any text from Crew or Fletch yet?” Finn asked.
Nox quickly glanced at his phone.
Nothing.
Now he was officially worried.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
He sent three more texts on the way to the Demons’ clubhouse in Uniontown.
One to Fletch, one to Wilder and one to Crew.
“I don’t like this,” Nox murmured when he didn’t get a response from “Ghost” or “Kitten.” Crew didn’t get a response either, according to his answering text.
Nox shot his BAMC brother a text back, letting him know since the three of them were “out and about,” they’d check the Wolf Den for any signs of the undercover couple.
The first thing they noticed—mostly because it was impossible to miss—was that the Russos’ soldiers used a full-sized SUV to ram the front entrance of the former gas station to gain access to the clubhouse.
It not only took out the front door, it also left a gaping hole in the surrounding concrete block wall. Since that SUV was an expensive way to get through a locked door, Nox figured the vehicle was stolen.
“Do you see Fletch and Wilder’s assigned Harley or SUV anywhere?” Finn asked.
“No, but a lot of the members park out back,” Nox answered.
“Maybe they weren’t here when this all went down.” Rez’s voice sounded as tight as Nox’s chest.
“Let’s hope,” Nox murmured.
Rez continued, “I would think if they were, they would’ve given Crew a heads up.”
“If they had a chance,” Nox told him.
“Or at least contact him after the bullets stop flying,” Finn suggested.
“If they had a chance,” Nox repeated, the dread in his gut becoming almost unbearable. He couldn’t take another major loss in his life. Not right now.