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CHAPTERFOUR
MALCOLM
“Do you think we’ll actually get some information in here?” Léon asks, glancing around the near run-down bar. I scan the place myself, noting it could use a hell of a lot of work. Some of the neon signs barely light up. The seats of the chairs have tears, and the juke box looks to be from the nineteen fifties. The joint could seriously use a makeover.
I shrug, taking a sip of my beer, staying inconspicuous. I don’t need the people in here recognizing me. They do, I might not get the answers I’m looking for, and I can’t let that happen. This is the first lead I’ve gotten worth a damn in finding Désirée. It’s why I’m dressed down in a pair of jeans, boots, burgundy Henley, and my button-up jacket.
“So, are you going to finally put your claim on her if you get her back?” Léon changes the subject, shocking me with his question.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” I grumble, brushing it off.
“Don’t bullshit, Malcolm, I know you.” Léon smirks, seeming amused by himself. “You can’t hide shit when it comes to you wanting Désirée. Shit, I bet you money, even Félix knows you’ve got feelings for her.”
If that were true, he’d have beat the shit out of me a long time ago as he’s done with others. You don’t get near his sisters without his permission.
“You don’t know shit about this, Léon.” I narrow my eyes on him and tip my beer in his direction. “And that’s the way it’s going to stay. We find Désirée. We keep her safe the same as the others.”No matter how much I want there to be more.I’m not about to tell him or anyone else.
“Whatever,” Léon says, glancing around the room nonchalantly.
The bar is nearing closing time, and the two of us are about to call it a night here and come back another day when I hear someone say Désirée’s name.
“She’s a hot piece. I wouldn’t mind tapping that ass of hers,” the guy slurs.
“Vin, man, you need to shut up before word gets back to the boss about what you’re saying,” another voice says sternly. “Désirée’s the boss’s pet.” A few other chuckles follow.
I straighten marginally and shift listening a little more. It takes everything in me not to take them out now. I clench my jaw, trying to keep it together.
“That bitch deserves everything the boss dishes out to her,” Vin, I assume that’s his name, says and spits. “She’s nothing but a spoiled cunt and needs to be knocked down a bit.”
“Malcolm?” Léon murmurs my name cautiously—warning me to keep my cool.
Narrowing my gaze on him, I pull my phone out and text Félix.
To Félix
Confirming rumors. Not bringing them to the cells. Taking them to the Inferno’s Clutch MC boathouse.
I don’t want to, but it’s the closest to where we are, and the club won’t have a problem with it. My phone vibrates in my hand, letting me know he’s responded.
From Félix
Got it. I’ll call Chains and let him know you’ll be there soon. I’ll meet you there along with Rémy, Tristan, and Nicholas.
To Félix
Heads up, the one called Vin is mine.
After hearing what the fucker said, he signed his death warrant, but I’m going to make him suffer first. I don’t care if the text to Félix pisses him off. It’s like something inside me snaps, and I make a decision. One that will probably not end well.
Standing, I shove the phone back in my pocket and motion for Léon to head outside. “We’ll wait for them all to come out here. We’re taking them to Chains’ clubhouse.”
“Fuck me, you sure you wanna go there. They got that gator,” Léon whines, visibly shuddering.
I smirk at his reaction. Serves the fucker right for thinking he can simply walk past Bart without acknowledging the beast. “Don’t worry, Bart won’t snap at you this time. You’re bringing him a middle-of-the-night treat.”
We sit out there for another fifteen minutes when the doors finally open, and about four men come out. Three of them more or less stumble drunkenly into the parking lot.
Stepping out of the shadows, both Léon and I make quick work of knocking all four of them out.
