Page 61 of Riding Dirty

Blast clears his throat and reaches behind his head, bowing his head slightly before he curls his fingers around the back of his neck, massaging it. He flicks his gaze up to meet mine.

He releases his grasp, letting out a heavy sigh before he finally speaks, telling me what the fuck is actually going on. He rocks back on his heels, then he starts talking, and I don’t fucking like it.

“The guy who hired you and signed the contract is the owner’s wife’s ex. She cheated on him with the owner, left him, and the divorce was finalized about a year ago. She used some of her divorce money to invest in the event center.”

“Fuck,” I hiss. “He showed me all the required documents, including the insurance policy.”

“They had to be fakes. I’ve got him in the back of the pickup, tied up.”

As much as I want to stay here and watch this place burn to the fucking ground, I can’t, because not only did this asshole lie to me, but I also got so fucking blinded by the money that I didn’t do the research the way I should have.

“Let’s tune this fuck up. We got several million dollars to take out on his ass,” I grind out.

The four of us make our way toward the pickup. Two-Pump, Blast, and Hippie all came together in a truck, and I brought my own. Our plates are linked to absolutely nothing, no way for us to get tagged on any camera, courtesy of the cops we’re in bed with.

So now we take the asshole back to the clubhouse. The fact that he thought he was going to get away with this is beyond me. But then again, maybe he wants to die.

It would be the ultimate fuck-you to the ex: he gets her whole building burned down, and we kill him so he doesn’t have to live with the guilt. But she is left living with her destroyed livelihood.

Not today.

CHAPTER

FORTY-SEVEN

WRATH

It doesn’t take long to get to the clubhouse. Flicking my gaze around the parking lot, I search for her car but don’t see it, which is good, at least for now. I’ll have to go to her, and I can’t wait. But first, business. And right now, I’m pissed the fuck off because this job was the goddamn golden goose.

I knew it was too good to be true.

I knew it, and my greedy ass jumped at the chance for a payout that big. And it fucked me. He fucked me.

Two-Pump, Hippie, and Blast already have him in the small outbuilding waiting for me. Climbing out of my truck, I walk toward the building, opening the door and slipping inside. The lights are already on, and the fucker is tied to a chair in the middle of the room.

“Got him tied down,” Two-Pump murmurs as I close the door behind me.

I flip the lock into place, and my gaze flicks around the room before it lands on him again. He looks like the pussy he is sitting in the middle of the room, tied to a chair. My lips twitch into a smirk before I say anything.

I take one step forward, then another. “So,” I begin, “what the fuck?”

He has the fucking nerve to smirk. “I’m the winner here,” he states. “Her shit is gone, and that’s all I wanted.”

“And you want us to kill you?” I ask

He jerks his chin up, probably because he can’t do anything else, considering he’s tied to a fucking chair. I want to make him hurt, but he can’t die. At least not yet. Closing the distance between us, I sink down, crouching in front of him.

He stays quiet as his eyes search mine. He thinks he’s won something here, but he doesn’t know how I operate. Not a fucking clue, which is comical. He should have looked into that shit before he hired us.

“I would love to fucking kill you,” I say. “In fact, I want nothing more. But you’re not going to die today.”

I watch as his eyes widen, then he clears his throat. “Are you serious?” he asks. “I’m not?”

“No,” I snort.

“Why?”

“Because that’s what you fucking want.”