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“You’re a fucking coward.” I say, wiping my lips with the back of my hand.
“Nah,brother.” He uses our sacred word like a curse. “I’ve been loyal to The Firm. I ain’t no traitor.” The silence that falls on us is deafening.
Just then, a phone rings.
“Yeah?” Psycho answers, but I don’t want to take my eyes off Diablo. How did we get him so fucking wrong? “Did she describe him?” Psycho puts the phone on speaker and Ophelia’s voice rings through.
“—she said he was tall, black hair with a permanent five-o’clock shadow—” As Ophelia gives the description of Diablo, my eyes dart to every part of him she mentions. On fucking point. “—something about his club name being the devil or something. I don’t know. She was rambling by this point. I got to use new toys on her and they’re not made for pleasure.”
“Did someone say toys?” Fucking Grinder. It’s like he has a sixth sense when it comes to grand entrances. “Cause I brought a few of my own.”
“Hi, Grinder!” Ophelia calls out over the speaker phone like they’ve been friends their whole lives. Not much gets me, but an assassin buddying up with a man who has zero boundaries? That scares the bejesus outta me.
Because I’m still staring at Diablo, I notice the momentary fear cross his features and I don’t blame him. He’s seen Grinder’s work first hand.
“How ya doin’, pretty lady?” Grinder lays on the southern drawl as thick as molasses but all of that is stopped at the sound of Jarrett’s booming voice.
“Call her that again, I’ll slit ya from top to bottom.”
I’m guessing Grinder just rolls his eyes. Not much fazes him these days. Or ever.
“Calm down, big boy. I wouldn’t dream of leaving you out of game night.” That fucker’s gonna get us all killed.
“Wanker.” The line dies and, with it, the chance of gleaning any more information. Although, we don’t really need more than we already have.
“Diablo. The devil.” Hoops speaks, disappointment dripping from his tone. “Why’d ya do it? How long?”
That traitor’s eyes dart from me to Grinder to Hoops and back to Grinder. Smart kid, I wouldn’t let Grinder out of my sights, either.
“The whole time. I was sent here to prospect way back when, before the girl was even a blip on The Firm’s radar Created a backstory that wouldn’t raise any flags and made sure to keep them informed about the drugs. The club needed to keep their noses out of their business.” At the sound of this, I turn around and grit my teeth so fucking hard, I’m pretty sure I chipped a molar. “They got lucky with the girl showing up here of all places but then, she was chipped so it made it even easier to get her back home.”
Oh, that piece of shit did not just say that.
Like a tornado, I whirl around and land my first punch, then my second. By the third, Diablo is bleeding all over himself and my fist. His nose is definitely broken and my knuckles aren’t feeling pretty, that’s for damn sure.
“You will never speak of her again. Don’t even think of her. And if you call that hell hole her home again, I’ll rip your balls off with my bare hands and let Grinder fuck them down yourthroat.” I’m panting when I step back, the urge to inflict more pain on him is stronger than anything else.
“The whole fuckin’ time. Well, that’s just fuckin’ great.” Sledge is pacing, no doubt his mind is reeling like the rest of us. If I go back to when he was a prospect, that means he was working in the background, playing us like a fucking chess game.
“The drugs?” Psycho asks, brow furrowed and head cocked to the side.
“Yup.” Diablo spits out the blood from his nose and mouth, one eye on Grinder, who’s placing his toolbox on the table and rummaging through his… toys.
“Holy fucking shit. Wait a second…” We all look at Hoops as he leans away from the wall and stands to his full height, lips in a thin line and fists clenched hard enough to make his knuckles turn white. “Python?”
“That was almost too fuckin’ easy. He got nosy, needed to be dealt with, so I used his addiction against him.”
From out of nowhere, Grinder swings a wrench like a backhand and strikes Diablo across the jaw, two teeth flying out all covered in blood and spit.
“You watch your dirty fuckin’ mouth when you talk about Python.” Grinder loved that kid. Hell, we all did. Especially Prez.
Then it hits me, the weight of it making it hard to breathe.
“Prez?” Hoops turns at my word, realization contorting his features into an expression of complete and utter agony.
Diablo shrugs like it’s a given. “I didn’t kill him but I called in sayin’ y’all were distracted and easy pickin’. Couldn’t blow my cov—” This time it’s Hoops going in, punching Diablo until his head begins to loll from one side to the other, blood running down his cheeks and neck and all over his shirt and jeans.
The number of times this guy had a hand in hurting our club.