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The security in the place was pathetic. While one of the back doors had a keypad, a simple bolt and cylinder locked the other one. Hack had the electronic one bypassed in seconds, and I picked the lock on the other in almost the same amount of time.
When we realized the first door opened straight into the interior, but mine led to a utility room, Knight joined me, and we entered through there.
We both had every right to be the one to take down that motherfucker Bickle, but we’d agreed that the result, no matter who made the kill, was all that mattered. We wanted to get this done fast and get home to our women.
We waited in the darkness, listening to the activity in the main space while our brothers reported where they’d found a place to wait as well. We were all out of sight, so knowing their locations would make it easier to distinguish each other if the shit hit the fan.
Finally, the front door creaked open, and I peeked around the corner to see Bickle step inside, flanked by his younger son and several big dudes who looked ready to kill. However, after studying the bodyguards for a minute while they walked over to Markoff, I realized that their expressions were carefully blank, except when Bickle or his son spoke and the guards glanced at each other. There was unspoken communication and a small flash of annoyance whenever their boss spoke.
I tapped Knight’s shoulder and jerked my head toward the small group. Knight nodded. “They don’t respect or fear him,” he concluded under his breath.
“If things get hairy, they’re gonna split and leave his ass behind with no protection.”
“Scout,” Dax murmured over our connection. “Wait for my signal, then fire a warning shot, followed immediately by a non-fatal hit to one of the bodyguards. Make sure the injured one can still turn tail and run.”
“Understood,” Scout replied.
Bickle, Remus—his son who wasn’t in jail—and his men stopped a few feet from Markoff and his crew, who were clearly former Special Forces, and feared their boss enough for us to know that they wouldn’t abandon him so easily.
“Come with an explanation?” Markoff asked Bickle, standing casually with his hands in the pants pockets of his immaculately tailored suit.
Bickle cleared his throat. “The connection we had in the courts got tangled up with the Silver Saints and got himself caught.”
Markoff stiffened, but it was barely noticeable unless you studied him closely. “What does he know?”
“Nothing about you,” Bickle assured him quickly. “But my other kid was running the operation in Vegas, and since Timkins lost control over his court case, he got the fucking death penalty.”
“What about the operation?” Markoff asked, clearly not giving a damn if Bickle lost one of his sons.
“We had to close it down with the cops digging into Joey’s life and contacts. But Remus will be taking over, he said, jerking his head toward his son.
“And this is why you haven’t delivered more product?”
Bickle swallowed. “We’re looking for a new club to lure the girls and changing out the guys who find them, then we’ll be up and running again.”
What. The. Fuck?
Bickle had been running a trafficking ring in Vegas? From what he was saying, it sounded like if we took him out, the operation would fall apart. But just in case, I’d have a talk with Mac when we got back and send some patches out to investigate and disassemble any remaining remnants of the group.
Mac had a history with the Lennox hotel owner and worked closely with his head of security, Knox, whenever a problem we were handling made its way to Vegas.
Markoff was silent, making Bickle sweat and shuffle his feet, clearly uncomfortable under the scrutiny.
“You have two weeks to get things running and bring me product, or we’ll have to have another talk. I have clients with expectations, and if you can’t deliver, I’ll have to replace you with someone who can.”
Every time he called women product, I had to fight the urge to walk in and spray the place with bullets.
“Did he just give us an opening to get someone in there?” Scout mumbled.
“Sounds like it,” Hack said.
They went quiet when Markoff spoke again. “You should keep your head down, Bickle,” he warned. “My competitors are not happy that you’ve been collecting on their turf. And if you’re not performing, I’ll have no reason to protect you. Is that understood?”
“You take out Bickle and Remus without a fuss, and Markoff will think it was an assassination by one of his rivals,” Dax muttered.
I knew what he was suggesting, and it was the smart play. But the thought of Bickle not suffering, not dying painfully as he stared into my face and knew he was facing Silver Saints justice…it caused rage to blow through me.
