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Dark. Dangerous. Vengeful.
Ty didn’t need to know, but Curly would love to let Scott loose on Prick. Fuck that, he’d love to kill the man himself. He’d do it slowly so he could enjoy watching the life leach from the man’s eyes one breath at a time. It’d be so damn sweet.
But he wasn’t that man anymore. He didn’t have the backing of a long-established MC behind him, and he’d always be front and center on the cops’ minds. When the “truth” about his conviction came to light and the entire nation learned of the man who’d been sentenced to thirteen years in prison for a crime he hadn’t committed because the police department mishandled the investigation, the entire department felt the sting of that humiliation. Cops in the entire state were bitter and would love nothing more than to nail him for anything from jaywalking to pissing in public. So as much as he’d love to take this shit to the limit, he had to be smart.
There was no way in hell he’d go back to prison.
The three of them convened at the front of Curly’s truck. Though around three in the morning, it was a clear night with an almost full, bright-as-fuck moon. He could plainly see the faces of both his men. “I want Prick shitting himself,” he said, rolling his shoulders. “Rough him up, fuck up his house, threaten him within an inch of his life, but he remains breathing when we walk out that door, understand?” he asked as he pinned Scott with a harsh glare.
Raising his hands, Scott grunted. “Got it. Fuck, I’m not a sociopath, I can control myself.”
“Guess we’re about to find out,” Ty muttered, but he also drew a weapon. Difference was Ty wasn’t chomping at the bit to fire his and only would if necessary.
Curly didn’t carry a gun. Not anymore. Another adjustment to keep the cops from finding a reason to bust him.
Scott flipped Ty off with a smug gleam in his eye.
“Let’s roll.”
Together they made their way up to the farmhouse. Curly considered going in stealthy and sneaking around to different entrances, but in the end, he decided, fuck it. They’d bust in the front door and make as much fucking noise as they damn well pleased.
Three steps led to what was probably once a beautiful wrap-around porch but now held only rotting boards. An impressive wasp nest bulged from the overhang.
“Shit,” Ty whispered with a shudder. “Glad those suckers aren’t out now.”
They clomped up the steps.
“Here we go.” Scott rubbed his hands together, then flicked a glance at Curly.
He nodded right before Scott lifted his huge, booted foot and power kicked right next to the doorknob with a loud war cry.
No surprise, the wood splintered with ease, and the door flew open. The forceful kick dislodged the entire doorknob, and the old brass fixture skittered across the floor with a loud clatter. Gun drawn, Scott swaggered into the house like the football captain arriving at a frat party.
“Well, shit, had I known there’d be porn, I’d have brought my lube.”
A feminine shriek followed by a man’s shout and another high-pitched cry met Curly’s ear.
Scott whistled, then let out a laugh.
Stepping into the house, Curly found two naked women scrambling off Prick. The man sat on the only chair in the room, a threadbare recliner, with his jeans open, shirt off, and dick out.
“Ladies, collect your shit and get the fuck out,” he announced. The second Prick realized who’d barged into his house, he growled and began to rise.
“Uh-uh,” Scott tsked. He aimed his gun dead center on Prick’s chest.
Ty lingered back near the door, also prepared to fire if no alternative presented itself.
As the women clambered around, gathering clothes and heels, Prick dropped back down. Fifty bucks said he didn’t know either woman’s name or give a single shit what happened to them once they left his house.
“Aww, buddy,” Scott crooned with mock sympathy. “Why don’t you put that little guy away?” He waved his gun toward Prick’s soft cock. “Pretty sure I saw bigger ones on the dogs tonight.”
That got a reaction out of Prick. As he tucked himself in his jeans, his eyes narrowed, and his jaw ticked with anger. He’d clearly had no idea any of Curly’s men had attended the dog fight, and it fucking riled him to know he’d been played.
Damn, they hadn’t done a damn thing yet, and Curly felt fantastic.
The second the women disappeared through the open door, Curly strode forward until he stood a few feet in front of Prick.
“How much money did you make tonight?”
“Fuck you,” Prick said as he spat at Curly’s feet.
Curly looked to Scott, who grinned, then surged forward. He cocked his arm back and smashed the butt of his gun across Prick’s face so fast the asshole never saw it coming. He cried out, then snarled as he glared up at Curly with hatred burning in his gaze. Already his right cheek swelled and changed to an ugly shade of purple. Blood trailed from the corner of his mouth. He spit again, this time a mouthful of red.
