Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
“Colt shot one, and I got one,” Alex informs him. “Car and bodies disposed of.”
Tyson nods to himself. “So only two dead. Not bad.”
“Well, at least we didn’t kill this one,” Finn offers, pushing his dark hair back from his face. He’s got a bruise already under his right eye from the bitch back at the pickup spot.
We were ordered to deliver one client, unconscious but alive. Anyone else’s life was up to us. Honestly, I know the ones we kill are better off. I’ve seen Tyson make grown men cry and beg for their lives. Those are usually their last words.
“Maybe I should just let you guys handle all of them. It’d make my life easier,” Tyson says in thought.
“Nah, that’s half the fun.” Ryat slaps him on the back.
He’s got to be a Lord. He wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t. He doesn’t seem like an errand bitch boy to Tyson. So that’s not an option. He had called him Ty. They have to be close. And he’s not wearing a Blackout security T-shirt. I look over his white hoodie and dark-wash jeans. He doesn’t dress in a suit like Tyson does, but that doesn’t mean shit. As far as I know, a Lord can be anyone. They strategically place them where they best fit in the world, whether it be the fucking president or an owner of a bar in a sketchy area.
“Any problems?” Tyson asks, cutting the zip tie on the man’s wrists and flipping him over onto his back.
“There was a girl.” His head snaps up to look at me when I speak. “He had his daughter with him.”
His blue eyes dart around the room. “Well, where the fuck is she?” he demands.
“Told you we should have brought her.” Alex gives me a fuck you smile. He wants someone else in the doghouse with Tyson other than himself for once.
“I wasn’t going to let her be killed because her father is an idiot.” I point at him, lying on the metal table. “I stuck her. Finn placed her body in the car they arrived in. She’ll wake up in a few hours and not remember shit.” The drugs he provides us with are some powerful ones. We’ve never used them on ourselves, but they drop a three-hundred-pound man like a drunk girl’s underwear. With how small she was, she could be out the rest of the night. And the side effects could cause loss of memory. I’m guessing on that one. They never live long enough to tell us. “Plus,” I add. “We had our masks on. Too much was happening for her to even retain any information to lead her back to us.”
He nods. “You better hope so.” Then he looks over at Finn. “I’m guessing she gave you that shiner?”
He reaches up and touches his face, hissing in a breath. “The bitch punched me.”
Ryat walks over to the guy, looking over him. “This is the president of Oakley’s Bank.”
Tyson nods.
“He’s been grooming his daughter for years,” Ryat states with a heavy sigh.
“Yeah, he’s a sick bastard,” Tyson adds. “He’s been forcing her into a world that she should have never known existed.” He looks up at us. “If she comes for you guys, you’ll have your hands full. She won’t go down as easily the second time.”
“Meaning?” Alex asks, wanting clarification he can just kill her if there’s a next time.
Tyson smirks. “Meaning they don’t call her wicked for nothing.”
Finn snorts. “She was a crazy fucking bitch.”
“They always are.” Jenks agrees.
“Yeah.” Tyson pulls a pair of gloves out of a box and lays them on the table next to the guy while he rolls up the sleeves of his dark-gray button-up. “But they’re the only ones worth having.”
We wrap up what Tyson needs, and an hour later, we’re walking into the house. I make my way upstairs and decide to go by her room. Opening the door, I see she’s passed out in bed, and Tatum is asleep next to her. Some woman is on her TV screen that hangs on the wall running through the woods screaming while a man chases her down with a machete.
I walk over to Raylee’s side of the bed and see four bottles of wine. Two are on her nightstand, the others on the bed. All empty. I smile because I bet she thought of me while she was drinking those.
Her phone lights up next to her, and I pick it up to see it’s a text from Nate. Grinding my teeth, I open it.
Nate: I’m sorry, Ray. Please call me. I need to talk to you.
I delete the text and read over the last several he’s sent her. She’s ignoring him. Good girl. He doesn’t deserve a second of her time. Deleting the rest, I shut it off and place it back where I found it.