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“And because it never happened, I got a lot of angry fuckers who came to Vegas to clean up only to go home empty-handed.”
“Yeah, so what the fuck do you want me to do about it? Sounds like your problem, not mine or his.” Cobra nodded at Mamba.
“I want Ajax taken care of, now.”
“So do we.” Cobra shrugged his shoulders. “Believe me, I’m not happy either, especially with those fuckers ambushing one of my guys. He’ll never show his face in Nevada again when we’re done with him.”
“Damn straight, 'cause he’ll be out in the desert in a shallow grave.”
Cobra and Mamba exchanged a look. “That might be too drastic.”
“Too drastic? If I don’t tell my guys from New York that Ajax is eating dirt, they’ll come out and do the job themselves.”
Shit, this was not going the way Mamba expected. A good beat-down and throwing his ass outta Nevada, fine, but offing him? He didn’t think he could ever look Mandy in the face. She’d inevitably find out the Serpents were involved, and then he’d have no chance with her at all.
“That’s not necessary.”
“These guys are looking for blood, and believe me, you don’t wanna disappoint them or piss them off.” Samson held up his palms. “If this is above your pay grade, let me know now.”
“It’s complicated.”
“Nothing complicated about it.” Samson paused. “I get that you gotta keep Metro off your back, so let me handle it. I can have a guy here tomorrow morning, and by tomorrow night, Ajax and his buddy will be some coyote’s dinner.”
Samson pulled out his phone, swiped at it, mumbled some key phrases, and disconnected the call.
“All done.”
Mamba had to get out of there and try to tell Mandy so she could warn Ajax to get the fuck out of Nevada and never come back. He owed her that much even if she never talked to him again.
Mamba’s stomach rolled, and his vision blurred. What the fuck was wrong with him? He faltered and gripped the chair alongside him.
“You all right?” Cobra reached out to him. “You look like shit.”
Truth. He’d felt like shit for the last day and a half but chalked it up to getting clocked in the back of the head with a baseball bat and all the shit with Mandy.
He was hot and cold, had no appetite, and his whole body ached. His head was pounding, and his goddamn arm kept pulsing.
Cobra eased him into the chair.
Samson gave him a once over. “You’re white as a fuckin’ ghost.”
Cobra nodded to the bloody bandage. “Did you get that looked at?”
“Nah, it ain’t nothing.” Mamba wiped the sweat beading up on his forehead.
“Fuck, you’re burning up.” Cobra lifted his arm to get a look and started to unwrap the gauze. “When’s the last time you changed this bandage?”
Mamba glanced at his arm. “I haven’t.”
“Ahhh fuck.” Cobra balled up the gauze, threw it on the table, then examined his arm. “This doesn’t look good.”
Cobra angled his arm for a better view, and his stomach pitched. The whole area around the wound was red, raw, and swollen, and the actual slash was oozing green puss. Fuckin’ disgusting.
“You stupid bastard, you got some kind of infection.”
He yelled for the prospect to get Python.
“Ten seconds later, Python pushed through the door. “What’s goin’ on?”
