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)
Pat didn’t look back as he left the building. No cops magically turned up, and he dumped the guy into the trunk of his car. Slamming it closed, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed Bull.
“It’s a little early, Pat,” Bull said.
“Yeah, well, get the basement ready, because I’ve fucking got one of those pieces of shit. Tried to attack me this morning while letting my dog take a shit.”
“Your dog? You’ve got a dog?” Bull asked.
“Yeah, I do. Get the basement ready, I’m coming in. Also, you might want to call Dylan with a warning. There might be someone calling about me grabbing a guy.”
“Pat, what is going on?”
“I had no choice but to let Ava see. The guy went to attack me, I had no car keys, no cell phone, and dog shit that needed cleaning up. I had no choice.”
“Fuck!” Bull was not happy.
If Ava turned on them, that was a problem, especially with Violet and Hazel. Three women were a dangerous game to play. Pat didn’t like it. He knew Bull didn’t like it. He would not want to run the risk of killing Ava, or making her disappear. This was a whole lot of shit he hadn’t planned for.
“I’ll sort it out,” Bull said.
He hung up and Pat drove all the way to the clubhouse, not liking that feeling if Ava decided to call the cops. If she got Dylan involved, there was no problem, other than the fact he knew he would never be able to trust her.
Fuck.
She trusted him. She had told him she trusted him, yet he didn’t know if he could trust her. Ava was a good woman. She made the right decisions. That didn’t make her a bad woman. If he was anyone else, he would tell her to call the cops. That was the right and good thing to do. Right now, he just needed her to trust him.
Arriving at the clubhouse, Grant was waiting for him.
“Everything set up?”
“Yeah, are you okay?” Grant asked.
“Fuck, no,” he said. There was no point in denying it. The woman he was in love with might turn against him. He was not okay with that.
In a matter of days, he had killed several men, including a man from his past he had a great deal of respect for. There was a lot of shit happening, and it was getting very fucking boring. The cartel was pissing him off, and the truth was, he wanted it over.
Ranford being missing was just another reason to anger him. There was still no word from that meddling fucker, and now it was starting to anger Pat. He wanted to get this problem resolved.
With Grant’s help, he got the man down to the basement where Rusty was waiting. The man looked like shit, as if he hadn’t slept. Pat was used to Rusty being the playful one of the group, the one who always seemed to have a smile and crazy-ass story to tell.
“What happened?” Rusty asked.
Pat gave him the rundown as Grant got him hooked up to the chains. Within seconds, Grant had thrown a bucket of cold water over the attacker, bringing him back to the land of the woke.
“Wakey, wakey,” Grant said.
Pat folded his arms as Bull came down into the basement. “Dylan’s aware, but he said nothing has come through. No calls have been made.”
This was a relief.
“So, what do we have here?” Bull asked.
“All the markings of the cartel,” Pat said.
“Yeah, but we all know they have different sectors,” Rusty said, taking a step closer. The main marking was on the back of the neck. “This is not part of the Vito Crew. This is someone else.”
“You’re making a big fucking mistake, motherfuckers. You kill me, you’re all going to die.”
Pat, Grant, Rusty, and Bull all burst out laughing. The guy clearly wasn’t expecting this.
“Damn, if I had a dollar for every time someone threatened me, I’d be a wealthy man by now,” Bull said.
“I think we should start charging them by insult. If they did that, I’d have an island by now,” Grant said. “Someone has always got some bad shit to say about me.”
“That is true.”
“Let me the fuck go,” the guy said, swinging in his chains.
They all looked at him and Pat, and waited.
“It’s nice to want things,” Grant said. “You want to be let go, but you know what the problem is with your generation.”
Bull groaned. “You get a wife and a kid, and you start to think you’re of the mature generation?”
“I’m going to be a daddy. I’m going to pass my wiseass wit and knowledge onto the next generation, and that makes me mature.”
This time, even Rusty laughed. Pat couldn’t help but smile. “Mature” and Grant didn’t exactly go hand in hand. It was an odd combination to even think of.