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Python struck the match and threw it to the back of the room. “I suggest you get outta here cause this place is gonna go up like a firecracker on the Fourth of July.”
“Fuck!”
Crackling flames erupted against the dry wooden floor as the women screamed scrambling to free their men.
Nick joined the Serpents outside, as smoke billowed out the windows.
Cobra nodded to Python. “I told you he liked to light shit up.”
The four Rats and the scantily dressed women burst through the front door, then watched as the building blazed with flames and smoke.
About three hundred feet away they heard the first explosion. Nick looked over his shoulder as the wooden shack was reduced to burning embers.
They all piled into the SUV and by the time they made it five miles back to civilization, Nick’s phone blew up pinging with messages and texts.
Cobra threw him a side-eye in the front of the SUV. The first few were from Isabelle. Just voicemails and texts asking him to get back to her. Each one increasing in intensity. Then a few short texts from Samson saying ‘Where the fuck are you? ‘Fuckin’ get back to me.’ and “C’mon, man this is serious.’
“Shit!” Nick hit Samson’s number first figuring he would know more than Isabelle if there was more trouble.
20
“Where the fuck are you?” Samson yelled through the phone. “I’ve been trying to reach you for the last hour.”
“What’s goin’ on?” Nick gripped the phone tighter than necessary.
“Some shit went down and Isabelle called me when she couldn’t get ahold of you.”
Why the fuck wasn’t he getting to the point?
“Cheryl’s been beat up.”
“Beat up?” Nick’s heart ricocheted against his ribs. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“She told Johnny she wanted a divorce and he . . .”
“Fuckin’ bastard.” Nick slammed his hand against the dashboard. “How is she? Where is she?”
“Isabelle brought her to the penthouse. I called our doctor. He’s with her now.”
Nick’s gut filled with icy acid. “Where’s Portia?”
“She’s fine, she’s with Isabelle . . . Just get your ass to the penthouse.”
“Fuck!” Nick swiped at the phone.
“What the hell happened?” Cobra asked.
The Serpents grew silent waiting for Nick’s answer.
“That fucker Russo put hands on Cheryl.”
Mumbled curses rose in the vehicle.
“You wanna head over to the apartment Curtis gave us? See if Russo’s there and pay him a little visit,” Cobra offered.
Python cracked his knuckles. “Yeah, what the fuck. I only got to light shit up, but smashing my fist into some fucker’s face before noon would work. It’s not a party until you break at least one bone, right?”
The others agreed with their own degree of hurt they wanted to inflict on Johnny but all Nick could concentrate on was Cheryl. The anxious tone of Samson’s voice amped him up big time.
