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I smirked and moved toward him, landing a jab square on his nose in a startling crack that sent blood flying everywhere. “Something you should have done before becoming a snitch. Was sucking that dead agent off required or just a bonus?”

He sneered and ran at me head first, intending to knock me on my ass but I wasn’t having that. When he was close enough I lifted my knee and he went down instantly, writhing and crying in pain like the little bitch he was.

“You broke my nose!” He scrambled up, still holding his nose and throwing wild punches.

A few even landed, one to my right eye and another split my lip open, but it worked into my plan perfectly. While Vigo was feeling like a big shit, I found my moment and landed a hammer fist that sent him to the ground, me on top of him and I landed blow after blow on his face until my fists were coated in his blood.

Still I didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop.

Not until I could no longer see Jana bloody and unconscious, looking pale and small in her hospital bed. Max’s face, scared and angry. Blaming me and rightfully so. By the time I stopped, Vigo’s blood dripped from my hands and I could only stare in a wild, inexplicable fascination as droplets fell from me to him. I blinked to clear my mind and exhaled at the sight before me. I made it to my feet, breathing hard but grinning.

Vigo’s face was unrecognizable, and his left eye was already swelling shut, but he coughed and groaned as he slowly got up. “You’re a fuckin’ dead man, Cross. You and all of your bitches. Your whole goddamn club.” He wiped his face with his hand, wheezing through his broken nose.

“You think so? I’d love to see you try.” I walked away from Vigo while he continued to taunt me because I was stronger than him. Also because he’d stopped behind a bunch of shitty apartments where no one ever heard or saw a damn thing when the cops came to take statements. Vigo’s laugh echoed in the still air as he got in his car and drove away.

He might have thought he was free and clear of me and he was probably already making plans for the rest of the Reckless Bastards, but Vigo didn’t understand something very crucial. He was a dumb shit.

So goddamn stupid, he didn’t notice when I pulled in behind his yellow and black eyesore. He didn’t notice me behind the red Uber as he turned back onto Las Vegas Boulevard. I kept at least one car between us at all times, but it wasn’t necessary, he was oblivious with his one eye swollen shut.

Four miles later ours were the only two cars on the same stretch of bad road, this time heading back to Mayhem. I let another mile pass before I stomped on the gas and passed Vigo on the left side, scaring the ever-loving fuck out of him when I honked and waved.

He tried to get ahead of me but, although that mu

scle car was sweet, it had nothing on a good old reliable Toyota. I was ahead of him and sliding back into the right lane in no time. Vigo tried to pass on the left but I moved at the same time he did, making a pass all but fucking impossible. “Try again, asshole.”

He did. On the left side and the right side, before trying to pass on the left again. Then I made my move, slamming on the brakes so hard he had no choice but to swerve away or hit me. It was a calculated move, but I knew how Vigo would respond. The only way he could.

He slammed on his brakes and swerved to avoid a collision and flipped his own car in the ditch.

Two times. Three times. Four times before it finally stopped moving.

I stopped about a quarter mile up the road and walked back toward the already smoking car. “Help me! Somebody, help!”

That sound brought a smile to my face and I hated it, hated what this shit had turned me into. Vigo wouldn’t be my first kill, nowhere near it. I’d killed for Uncle Sam and I’d killed for my brothers, but I’d never, not once, taken any joy from it.

Not like I was right now.

“Somebody call for help?”

“Fuck you! Get me out of here!”

“Your prayers have been answered Vigo. You wanted revenge for the death of your dumb fuck of a kid brother? Well you got it. Now you can go straight to hell and meet that shit stain.”

“Please, Cross. Help me.”

“Begging already, Vigo? I expected more.” A spark caught in the engine and I took a few steps back, mentally calculating how much time before the fucker went boom.

“You know all those problems you’re having with the city? I know the cause.”

I froze. “Bullshit.”

“Seriously.” He was agitated, and his voice came out a shallow pant. “You think it’s a coincidence that you fucked over that governor and now you have your own problems with the city? I. Thought. You. Were. Smarter.”

His breathing was labored and even though I believed him, I had no forgiveness within me at the moment.

“And I thought you were smart enough to leave before it came to this. Turns out we were both wrong.” I walked away, ignoring his cries for help, his agonizing screams and slid behind the wheel and drove away.

I’d made it about three miles up the road before a large plume of fire and smoke blossomed in my rearview mirror.