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Leo huffed. “The jackets had horned devils with blood tears on them.”
Goddamn fucking shit. My ex Fiona’s father. His motorcycle gang was behind it. Was this revenge for dumping his bat-shit-crazy daughter? Or retribution for refusing an alliance between our families?
“But, boss, it could also be a setup,” Finn said from my left. After Leo, he was my most trusted employee. He was short and fast, smart and loyal as fuck. There was no better runner than him, but he still had a lot to learn about our world. He was thirty, but his freckles, wide eyes, and ginger hair made him look like he’d be young forever. “It could totally be another gang pretending to be the Devil’s Eyes.”
I shook my head. “Doubt it.”
Finn’s face fell, his expression crestfallen. Christ, this kid was too innocent to be in this line of work. Why did I keep him on? Oh yeah, because I was a selfish, evil bastard, that was why. So what if I drew the line at murder? That didn’t make me a good guy. Nothing about me was good. Except for the time and money I gave to the animal shelter.
Leo cleared his throat like a ninety-nine-year-old man, the gross sounds of the over-secretion of phlegm echoing in the room. “We shouldn’t jump to conclusions. We’re still trying to figure it out.”
“How?”
“We’re putting feelers out with some contacts, trying to find out if any rumors had—”
“Fuck that,” I said. Leo was still stuck in the old ways of doing business. I’d need to think about replacing him soon, but Finn wasn’t ready yet, and there was no one else I trusted as my right-hand man. “You won’t get shit with your usual modes of operation. The Devil’s Eyes gang is different.”
I took out my phone and sent a text to their leader, Fiona’s dad. The man who almost became my father-in-law.
Me: Having fun?
Butch: Always.
Me: Even when you lose?
Butch: Haven’t yet.
Me: 3 for 3. You’ve not only lost the game but your touch too.
Butch: Maybe those were my decoys. Stay on your toes, Sunnyboy. The fun is just starting.
Me: Stop this now. This is your only warning.
Butch: Nah. By the way, Fiona wants you to know that all this can end if you walk down the aisle with her.
Fucking hell, his daughter was in on it too. “I was right. It’s him.”
When I was young, all I’d wanted was a woman like Fiona to rule the underworld at my side. Someone ruthless and hungry for power.
But by the time my pop had schemed our union from behind bars a couple of years ago, I wasn’t that guy anymore. I had already turned my back on the atrocities of murder. And she despised that about me. She thought I was weak, pathetic.
Walking in on her with some other guy’s dick buried deep within her was the luckiest day of my life because if I’d married someone as sadistic as she was, I’d have lost myself to the darkness completely. She would have been like my father, always hungry for more power, coercing me to start killing again by any means possible in the pursuit of spreading terror and growing our organization. Dumping her cheating psycho ass was one of the best decisions I had ever made.
Leo looked at me skeptically. “How can you be sure?”
“He would never take credit for someone else’s crime. He’s got too much pride for that.”
“Shit. This is bad. What do we do?” Finn asked.
“Triple security on all deliveries that can’t be rescheduled. Then put a halt on all activities until we figure out who the fuck betrayed us.”
“Betrayed us? You said—”
“Butch had the intel on our routes and schedule. That means someone from within gave it to him. Or sold it to him.”
Finn shook his head. “Impossible. It can’t be an inside job. No one would dare to cross you, especially not after what you did to Bob. And all he did was skim a couple of G’s off the top.”
“Kid, you’ve got a lot to learn,” said Denzel, another oldie in my crew. One who was still loyal to my father’s way of doing things. He was in his seventies but kept fit. Denzel had dark skin, wore a designer three-piece suit, and always had his fedora hat on. “The two most important things in this business you need to remember. One. It doesn’t matter how small. A betrayal is a betrayal.” He turned his gaze toward me, his accusing eyes turning black as night. “And two. There’s only one type of message that people respond to.”
