Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 90607 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90607 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Pat asked, feeling his anger rise.
He got off the man but kept his gun pointed at him.
“Is that any fucking way to say hello?”
“I say hello to men that deserve it. What the fuck are you doing here?” He was not about to ask him a third time.
His anger went to a whole new level. This got his suspicions rising. All the bad shit happened to the club after William’s piece-of-shit brother came to town.
That dogfighting ring sickened him. Pat hated anyone who wanted to hurt an animal. Especially fucking dogs. Dogs were amazing creatures or beings, or whatever the fuck people wanted to call them. He loved dogs. It was hard for him not to adopt all of them. In his spare time, he actually went and cleaned out all the kennels. He was one of the men responsible for getting a shit ton of toys, and at Christmas, he made sure they all had a damn good meal. Every dog should be loved all year round. He spent a lot of time with all of them, wanting them to have a great home. They intended to host an adoption day for the pups during the weekend.
He didn’t know if there would be many families, but he intended to be there to assess every person who wanted a dog. He was a good judge of character—except now, with William invading one of the cartel’s properties.
“I’m not going to ask you again,” he said.
“Damn it,” William said. “Will you put the fucking gun down? I’m not here to cause trouble. I didn’t realize you’d come back.”
“So sorry I upset you for returning to make sure the cartel wasn’t making a sudden move. Do you want to tell me why you’re smashing the damn walls?” Pat asked.
He wanted to shoot William. The guy had proven to be a giant pain in the ass. Pat did have some sympathy for him. Sure, his brother had been a piece of shit, and Pat would have gladly put a bullet between his eyes. Clearly, there was love between William and Craig. They were still brothers, and it kind of reminded him of Bull and Grant. The two seemed to hate one another, but he knew neither wanted to see the other hurt or dead. Not unless they were the ones doing all the punching. Siblings confused the fuck out of him.
William looked toward the house and it appeared he was about to argue with him. It would be so much easier to just shoot him.
Maybe the cartel would leave them alone as a peace offering. That was wishful thinking. The cartel was not known for being a decent negotiator.
He held the gun tight and waited. One slip or sign this man was working for the cartel, and Pat would end him.
“I’m looking for him. There, that is my big secret.”
“Looking for him?” Pat asked, frowning.
“My fucking brother. They didn’t send me the whole fucking body, did they?” William shrugged and ran fingers through his hair.
When he first met William, not a speck of hair was out of place. Now, as he looked at him, with the too-long messy hair, and several days’ worth of stubble, this was not the same man he had dealt with before.
“You’re looking for Craig’s body?”
“Yeah, and they hide fucking bodies in the walls and shit.” William sat down on the steps of the porch. “There was nothing there.”
“Wouldn’t it smell?” Pat asked. “It has been a couple of years, William.”
The other man nodded. “Yeah, it has been a couple of years, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t deserve a ... final burial. Fuck me, the piece of shit was hurting dogs. Most days I hate my fucking brother. Can’t stand him. Even when we were kids, and he would do shit to rile up our dad. I’d take the fucking beating for him. Maybe that was when it all went wrong.”
Pat was not interested in having a heart-to-heart with William. He didn’t give a shit about William. He was not club. Merely an associate.
“I keep telling myself it doesn’t matter. Craig is dead.” He shot out a laugh. “But ... fuck me, he was alive when they started cutting his head off.”
Pat didn’t say anything.
“I promised I would take care of him. I told him that. And then, when I learned what he did, I punched him so fucking hard and told him he was a piece of shit. That he was a fucking coward. They’re the kind of people that only hurt and use dogs. I was so angry at him. Sure, it brought in some money and shit, and he thought he was doing a good thing, but ... damn it, dogs. Poor defenseless dogs. No one deserves to have their head cut off while they’re still alive. That is some medieval England shit.”