Page 32 of Ruthless Obsession

“Yeah,” Legos yells.

“It’s Ruthless. Can I talk to Tonya?”

The door opens, and she smiles. “Morning. How’s your girl?”

“Not great. Can you check on her this week?”

“Sure. Is she downstairs?”

I shake my head. “Nah. She’s at my house. Locked in the basement.”

Her eyes widen. “She tried to run?”

I don’t answer, but my expression says enough.

Tonya nods. “Give me the keys and the codes. I’ll go now.”

I hand her what she needs, along with a roll of cash. “Don’t coddle her. Give her water and minimal food.”

Her face softens. “When this is over… you gonna let her go?”

I gingerly squeeze her arm. “Thanks, Tonya.”

My woman fucked up and she had to pay. “We just aren’t seeing eye to eye right now.”

I couldn’t wait until tonight to blow some shit up with C 4.

∞

Sitting in the large room where we hold church, I watch as my brothers file in one by one, filling rows of chairs across the room. Prez stands near the head of the table arms crossed, jaw set. I drop into a seat beside Viper. Psycho takes the chair to my left next to Lace—our secretary. He nods once, and I return it. Python, our treasurer, leans forward, elbows on his knees. Brillo settles beside him, and Legos—our road captain—plants his ass on the edge, arms folded like a damn wall.

I told Sophie I’ve been an enforcer for five years. I didn’t tell her I earned that title a few days after I hunted down the bastards who killed my parents.

“Good afternoon, fuckers,” Flex calls as he struts in, whiskey bottle in hand. He’s new, but sharp. A hell of a mechanic. He’ll be patched in soon.

Squid sits across from us—quiet, lethal. He did time for a job gone sideways four years ago. Our attorney got him a deal. Two years behind bars. I keep him off high-risk work, but last night he wanted in. I let him ride. Not tonight. Shit’s getting hotter. Toby’s bound to have his guards on high alert.

“Order,” Prez calls.

The room falls silent.

“As you know,” Prez begins, “we’re still working to recover the stolen weapons shipment from Toby Fawson. Last night, Ruthless, Squid, Webbs, Flock, and Psycho lit up three of his warehouses.”

Claps echo through the room like gunfire. I scan the sea of patched-up cuts, denim and leather stretched across broad chests. Some rock heavy beards. Others carry extra weight, but don’t let the bellies fool you—every man in this room is ready to bleed in battle.

“If a word of this leaks,” Prez warns, gaze sweeping the room, “remember how long it took to earn that patch. It only takes seconds to lose it. Understood?”

“Yes, Prez!” the room shouts in unison.

“Ruthless, give the run-down.”

“Webbs, Flock, Flex, Psycho, and Legos are riding with me tonight. We’ll hit three more of Toby’s warehouses tonight.”

Anger courses through my veins at the thought of him planning to sell Sophie. I stand planting my palms on the table. “I won’t rest until that asshole has nothing left.”

The room roars with hunger to take the Royal Bastards enemy down.

We wrap up church with the usual round of updates.