Page 93 of The Revenge You Seek

I'm desperate to ask more, to find out what he's hiding but I don't want to look like I care.

Instead, I drop down into my driver's seat, start the engine, throw it into drive, and wheelspin out of the fucking parking lot like I don't have a care in the world.

My cell rings in my pocket as I pull up at the house and I groan when I pull it out.

"What?" I bark, really not in the fucking mood for his bullshit right now.

"You bailed on Alana."

"Had an emergency. She had a great meal, what else did you want?"

"It's not my needs I'm worried about, boy."

"I'm sure she got by just fine. Maybe if her husband got her off once in a—"

"Enough. I don't pay you to question me."You don’t pay me anymore, asshole. We’re supposed to be done.

I blow out a breath, trying to find the strength for this conversation. I'm exhausted, I'm hungry and I've got a shit ton of work to do.

"I've got a job for you. I need you in the Creek within the hour."

"I've just finished practice."

He doesn't say anything. But I hear his warning loud and clear.

"Fine. I'll be thirty minutes."

I swing by a takeout place on the way to the Creek and I'm pulling up at the Hawks clubhouse less than forty minutes later.

I ignore all the eyes that turn on me as I march through the communal areas where there are guys shooting pool, drinking and watching a couple of girls that are dancing around the makeshift pole.

This is what all the schoolboys think gang life is going to be like. It's what they see in the movies. The hanging out with your brothers and banging every whore who wants a piece. But it's fucking bullshit. Sadly, nothing anyone can say or do will stop them though and they'll give Vic their left testicle if they could be a fucking part of it.

I take the stairs two at a time and storm toward his office, not bothering to knock as I throw the door open.

Inside I find Reid and Devin waiting for me.

"What the fuck do you want?" I ask, ignoring my boys and turning my frustration on the boss.

He slides two photographs across his desk.

"Know these two?"

"No. Should I?"

He shrugs as the three of us stare at the images.

"I need them gone. Tonight. This is where they will be. You know the rules, don't be seen and make it painful."

"Fucking hell," I mutter. "I'm supposed to be done with this shit."

"Yeah, well. I need my best boys. And you, son, are one of them."

"I'm not your fucking son."

Anger swirls around in his dead, evil eyes and the fingers of his right-hand clench as if he's imagining wrapping them around a gun.

Fucking try it asshole and we'll see who ends up dead first.