Page 22 of Wrathful Malice


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“Fifty dollar fine to Rogue when we return. And yes. She texted a few minutes ago that he’s in his office, which is at the back of the house, just to the right of the doors leading out to the deck.” Soul looks at me. “You, Spike, and Grim take the back. Asher, Thorn, and I will go in the front. The alarm has been disabled but Jez will re-engage it in ten minutes. So don’t fuck around.”

Grim frowns. “Aw, Prez, where’s the fun in that?”

“Brother, you’ve got ten minutes. That’s it. I don’t give a shit what you do in those ten minutes, but when our time is up, we need to be back at our bikes.”

Our enforcer’s frown flips into a wicked grin. “I only need two minutes.”

Soul lifts his hand and waves it in a circle. “Let’s go.”

We separate into our two teams, and I lead the way to the back entrance. There’s a tall perimeter fence, but we all easily scale it, landing on our feet in the backyard. I don’t know if this detective is stupid, or just plain naive, but he has no clue how to keep real bad guys out. A fence won’t stop us or anyone else who means him harm.

Not that it’ll matter after tonight.

Once we reach the deck, I pause for a few seconds so I can shut out the rest of the world. After several deep breaths, the chirp of the crickets and rustle of leaves fade into the background. I grab the doorknob and twist, surprised to find it unlocked.

Yeah, this guy is stupid.

When we’re inside, I hesitate because I hear someone talking, and for a second, I worry that Jez was wrong, and Barrett isn’t alone. But as I listen to the words, I realize he’s on the phone.

As quietly as possible, Grim, Spike, and I make our way to the office, but then I give up on sneaking and kick the door in.

Barrett leaps to his feet, phone in hand, and when I point my gun at him, his eyes widen. Grim and Spike fan out and stand on either side of the room, trapping the prick.

“You’re gonna have to call whoever the fuck that is back,” I tell him calmly.

“I will do no such thing,” he retorts as he reaches under his desk.

Grim smirks at me. “It’s cute that he thinks that panic button is gonna save him.”

“What did he say?” Barrett demands. “Tell me what he’s saying right now.”

“He said he hopes that’s your interior decorator on the phone because you’re about to need their services,” Spike says, his tone full of humor.

Barrett’s eyes dart from Spike to Grim to me. “Do you have any idea who I am?”

I grin. “Of course, we do. You’re Detective Zion Barrett from the Phoenix PD. You’re fifty-seven years old, husband to Melanie, who is way out of your league, by the way. You’ve been on the police force for thirty-two years and received countless commendations.” I tilt my head. “But you’re not at all who people think you are, are you Zion?” I nod to the phone. “End. The. Call.”

He stiffens but lifts the phone to his ear. “Tonya, darling, I’m going to have to call you back… Yes, yes, I’m okay. It’s just some of the guys playing stupid jokes… I promise, darling… Of course… Good night.”

“You just can’t keep it in your pants, can you?”

“What do you want?”

“Tell me, Zion, why didn’t you tell Tonya the truth?” I ask. “Surely you’d have gotten a few words out before I splattered your brains all over your desk. Why lie?”

“Obviously you’ve never had an affair,” he counters, arrogance in his tone. “The last thing I need is Tonya calling 911. Then I’d have to explain her to people, and I can’t let that happen.”

“Kinda like you couldn’t let Brenda go running to your wife about your affair with her?”

He bristles. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

I nod at my brothers, and they close in on him.

“Yeah, see, I don’t believe you,” I say conversationally. “The thing is, Zion, Iknowwhat you did.” His face pales. “Iknowthat you used Brenda as a confidential informantanda fuck toy. Iknowyou promised her the world when you had no such thing to offer.” I step toward him. “Iknowthat when she came to you and said she wanted to get clean and straighten her life out, you got scared.” I raise a brow at him. “How am I doin’ so far?”

“You’re wrong,” he spits out.

“Am I?”

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