Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 141464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
“Shouldn’t we leave him somewhere he can be found? Send a message to whoever sent him,” I suggest.
Rock tilts his head and studies me, then turns to Wrath and Murphy, like a judge waiting for arguments to be made.
Wrath shakes his head. “Guy’s gotta have a record. A long one. But if anyone knows he was in our territory, and he just disappears, they might question us.” He pauses, lips twisting into a cold grin. “But I also kinda like Jiggy’s thinking. If it’s New Jersey Vipers testing the waters—we need to send a stronger message than just makin’ their guy vanish.”
He lifts his hand, fingers wiggling in the air like a magician—poof.
“You wanna hang him from a bridge like we’re in fuckin’ Juárez?” Murphy says with a dry laugh. “I thought that was the whole point of having the Death Palace on speed dial.”
He cuts a glance at me, grinning like the smartass he is.
When I don’t respond to the dark humor, his smile fades. “What’s wrong? You don’t want us asking your girlfriend for favors?”
I could fuckin’ punch Murphy right now. “I didn’t say that.”
Rock’s steely glare swings my way.
Great.
When I don’t elaborate, he finally asks, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I force a smirk that tastes like ash. “Margot will be more than happy to fire up the oven for us.” I glance at Wrath. “It’s like I said, we haven’t had any issues in our territory for a while. Maybe we should make an example of this guy.”
“He’s a low-level tweaker,” Murphy points out. “No one’s gonna give a fuck what happens to him.”
We all glance over at the guy, who’s suddenly silent.
He’s unconscious.
Wrath slides his gaze to the door Remy and Griff exited through. “That’s a good point about not having any issues in this area…”
“Don’t even go there, bro.” Murphy takes a step closer to Wrath, voice dropping. “Griff’s mom is the addict. He’s got no control over that. Trust me. You heard him, she’s not even living around here anymore.”
Wrath’s punisher expression dials down a few degrees. “Yeah, okay.”
“All right,” Rock says, his tone final. “While I agree with you to a certain extent, Jigsaw, I think it’s better if we don’t call more attention to this guy than necessary.”
Fair enough. At least Rock considered my suggestion before shooting it down. “I’ll call Margot. Make sure we’ve got privacy. They’ve been slammed this week.”
Rock nods. “Thank you. That’s good to know. We’ll wait until dark.”
I step away from the group and fish out my phone.
Margot answers on the first ring. “Is everything okay?”
Damn, even when I’m about to make myself an accomplice to murder her voice still tickles my ears and turns my chest cavity all gooey.
“Yeah,” I murmur. “Things still busy there?”
“No. Dad’s at the church. Paul’s helping me grab a few things, then he’s heading out.” She pauses. “He has a date,” she adds in a cheerful tone.
Go, Paul.
“How do you feel about us baking some fresh bread tonight?” I ask, hoping she understands the us is my club and the bread is a body.
She pauses long enough to suggest she hears what I’m asking. “That sounds good. Let me pre-heat the oven so it’s ready when you get here.” Her voice finishes on a questioning lilt.
“That works.” I glance back at the guys. “We’re, ah…not too far from your place.”
“Great. See you in a bit.”
We hang up and I tuck the phone back in my pocket.
“Bread, huh?” Murphy’s ginger-bearded face breaks into a grin. “That’s a good one. She knows we’re bringing a body, though, right?”
“I’m ninety-nine percent sure she understood my code.” I reach out and pat his cheek a few times. “But thanks for asking, Ginger Yeti.”
“Stop fucking around and get this asshole loaded in the van,” Rock orders.
Wrath jogs over the garage floor like a jolly Viking heading to battle.
Margot. Damn, she was so steady and calm. Understanding my code—willing to “preheat the oven” for us on a moment’s notice. Sure, it’s the deal her dad made with my club, but she didn’t even hesitate.
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to push out the image of Margot flipping switches and prepping the crematorium—like she’s preparing to host a bake sale for demons.
It isn’t right.
Dragging her into our mess. Making her dispose of our garbage.
I shove that thought away. She can handle this. She’s handled way worse. On her own. Griff’s her mechanic. She likes him a lot. She met Molly at the party and loved her. Once Margot knows this guy tried to hurt them, she’ll be more than happy to help us toss his worthless body in the fire.
Wrath lifts the guy as if he weighs nothing more than a few bags of salt. The tweaker wasn’t that out of it. He squirms and struggles, snapping his teeth at Wrath’s wrist.