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)
Killing someone did not bother him. Saving the club was what mattered. Taking back the town was vital, and he looked at this piece of shit that had attempted to kill him in broad daylight, while Bernice had been there.
The cartel used people and dogs, and anything else they could get their hands on, and that pissed him off. These animals needed to be put down. They had lost any kind of status once they went after dogs and kids. He was done playing games.
“Dude, what the hell are you doing?” Grant asked.
Pat ignored him, and the guy before him went from being cocky to afraid. Pat saw it in his eyes. He truly believed he wasn’t going to get killed, that the club had a code and might have even been afraid of the cartel. This fucker was very much mistaken. Pat was not afraid of going after the cartel. He was not afraid of dealing with fuckers like this.
“I don’t need you alive,” Pat said. “Where there is one of you, there are hundreds, probably even thousands that bow down to the cartel. You think they’re coming to get you?” Pat smiled. “No, they’re not. We can have our fun with you, stab you a little, or I can just keep choking you like this, get you to that point where you’re almost dizzy, and then let go.” Which he did, allowing him to take multiple breaths, and when he was feeling a little better, he grabbed him again. “You want to play this game, I’m happy to. You see, I’ve got nowhere to be. Choking you will be fun. It means nothing to me.” He then reached for a blade that was quite close.
“Shit, Bull, what the fuck is going on?” Grant asked.
“Pat, what are you doing?” This came from Bull.
Pat slid the knife into the man’s gut and held the blade in deep. “I can make this hurt for a long time. I can make you wish for death, long before I even grant it.”
The man looked at him with fear, and Pat just stared at him and waited. Holding onto his neck, choking him, easing his grip, and then tightening it.
“They’re going after the old man,” the guy said, gritting his teeth. “I was to go after you, and the old man is next.”
Pat looked at him. “Old man?”
“The dude that was ... out in the cabin. We got orders to follow you everywhere and report back. That is all.”
“Report back?”
“A number. Fuck. Stop. Please.” The man’s voice was hoarse.
Pat turned toward Bull. The knife was still in the man’s stomach.
“Go,” Bull said.
Pat was up the stairs with Grant following behind him. He didn’t have time to let any of the brothers know as he pulled out his cell phone and dialed his father. Of course, his father was not one for technology. He had a cell phone, but rarely was it on his person.
“Fuck!” Pat pocketed his cell phone, climbed onto his bike, as he would get closer to the cabin with his bike than he would the car.
Riding out of the parking lot, he hit the gas and rode harder and faster than he had in a long time. There was no way he was going to let his old man die right now. Not like this. Not because of the club fucking up.
Grant was the only one in pursuit behind him.
Pat didn’t know how much time had passed, but he got as close as he could on his bike, stopped, parked his bike, and climbed off.
Grant was right there beside him. “Why the fuck are we stopping?”
“Because if those pieces are shit are not alerted, I want to have the element of surprise.”
“Do you think your dad could take them?” Grant asked.
“I don’t think they’re going to get him easily.” Pat didn’t know what skill his father had. He’d been out of the club for a long time now. Although, the old man kept in shape. Pat didn’t know if he was going to be a match for the cartel. With a gun in his hand and a knife in the other, he started to make his way through the small wood.
His mother had been the one to want a secluded cabin near the woods, surrounded by trees and nature. His father had always said it was like he stepped into a horror movie.
Grant flanked him as they made their way toward the cabin. It was already dark, and Pat scanned the woods, and saw the first guy. There was a glare of a cell phone, and Pat made his way toward that glow. Without a sound, he thrust his blade into the man’s neck, taking the cell phone from him.
“Holy shit, you really were a fucking machine, weren’t you?” Grant asked.
Ignoring him, he made his way through the path and watched. Not everyone was going to be lazy and answer a call. He didn’t know how important his dad was to the cartel, but so far, one man. Pat didn’t see anyone else.