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“Actually, no,” Draegan replied. “We’re from Trouble, Tennessee. This guy has four of our residents. All four of them were violently abused before they came to our gates. We think this guy has them because he’s a hired gun and—”
“All right,” the man said, thrusting his hand up in the air. “I’ve heard enough. Fewer details you give me, the better. I know Seth. He and his boys have a little place a few streets over.”
Allister could’ve hugged the man. “A few streets over?”
“Yeah. Right in behind our bar here.”
Bane had been right. They needed a stroke of luck. Who would’ve thought they would’ve found it in the Back of the House?
Chapter Eleven
Ryan didn’t trust the bar owner. “What do you know about this guy, mate?” He tried to pretend that he did.
“Seth Parkinson owns this part of Miami.”
“You mean The Back of the House’s owner isn’t the go-to person in this neck of the woods?”
He laughed. “I have shady characters in my circle of influence. Seth? He has killers, quacks who get off on blood and guts.”
“Comforting,” Ryan muttered, walking ahead of the club’s owner.
“You never said where you’re from, mate.”
Ryan slowly turned. At first, he started to be a smartass. This thug was clearly in a position of power because he’d used kids, gangs and their affiliations, to run his drugs. Given the new Mercedes he approached, it was apparently a profitable business.
“Sydney, Australia.” Ryan didn’t mind rubbing shoulders with the locals as long as they were trying to help.
“Long way from home.” He stared down at Ryan’s booted feet. “Let me guess. The cattle market is better here in the States?”
“Actually, I grew up in the livestock business and it was far more profitable in Australia.”
“What brought you to the US?”
“I’ve been an American for more than half my life now.”
“I see,” the fellow drawled. “And you helped these boys with Trouble, I take it?”
“He’s one of the founding fathers,” Allister interjected, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder at the neighborhood behind the bar. “Is that where we’re going?”
The fellow narrowed his gaze on Allister before studying each man independently. After grumbling something under his breath, he said, “Let me guess. None of you are packing?”
“No.” Allister spoke for all of them. “We don’t need guns.”
“If you say so.” He sat down in his car but left the door open while he adjusted the steering wheel and seat position. “If you want to stand by that assumption, just wait here. If you think you might have a cause for a weapon or two, follow me to the shed around back. I highly recommend you follow me. Seth isn’t an amateur, fellows. More importantly, there’s a specific reason he chose this neighborhood. These streets are some of the roughest in Miami. The boys guarding them are among the toughest. And they’re armed.”
“You mean we won’t find lemonade stands on every corner?”
The man grinned. “You won’t get a cool drink for a quarter in these parts. And the only thing you might find working the corners here are hookers.”
“Good thing we aren’t looking for those,” Ryan said.
A few minutes later, they collected weapons and ammuni
tion. Afterward, they slowly pulled out of the parking lot, tailing the club’s owner.
“I don’t like it,” Derek said. “These guns are hot. We could be holding murder weapons for all we know.”
“That’s probably a given.” Ryan refused to think about where those guns had been. “At least we’re going in armed.”
