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Laz stepped closer as her footsteps rang out from the foyer and headed along the hall toward me. This was the price we paid to keep her safe—the monitor hovered in the corner of my eye—the price I paid to keep everyone safe. “I can drive the cars, Laz.”
He shook his head as she stepped into the room, and it took all my fucking willpower not to go to her.
“With the Banks brothers at my side, we’ll be unstoppable. Not only will we end this fucking Order, we’ll make sure that no one touches us again. This is what I need, Nick.” He glanced at my brother as he followed her inside.
His hair was dishevelled and there was a leaf stuck to Ryth’s dress. Looks like they’d had fun. A little too much fun.
“Tobias,” Ryth murmured my name before she glanced at Laz. “What’s going on?”
Laz shook his head, but he didn’t look at her. He knew exactly what he was asking, because he asked the same thing of himself.
“You get me, Laz. That was the deal. You get me because if anything happened, if this all went wrong…” She’d still have protection.
“We need Nick,” Laz pushed. “He’s the best wheelman I know. He’s faster, more agile. Hell, he can drive almost anything.”
“I can,” Nick answered. “And yet you’re talking about me like I’m not in the room.”
“The intel is solid,” Laz said. “We know which gang worked for Hale, so we take them out. The only MC gangs that will be left in the city will be the ones loyal to us.”
“Can you be sure about that?” Nick stepped forward, cutting across the room to stand next to me. “Sure enough to risk our lives?”
I resisted the urge to look at Ryth, knowing she must be recoiling inside. That USB her father gave her was more than just a who’s who in the depraved world of The Order. It also had details in Lazarus’ world that couldn’t be ignored. A world that was now becoming ours.
“Aldolfo Martinez is a goddamn snake. His MC is done and his time is done. The moment he gave his allegiance to Hale was the day he sealed his fate. If you think I’m going to mourn his loss, you’re very much mistaken.”
“Mourn?” I murmured. “No. But we cut off one head and three more fill its place. We need to make sure who they are and how bad they want retribution.”
“We make it so they don’t come looking. We make it so they don’t think about retribution at all. We kill the fuckers. Those…slimy fucks who think riding their goddamn bikes and spewing their shit is going to save them. Tonight, they’ll find out no one will save them. We burn their clubhouse to the ground…with them inside.”
“So why do you need me?” Nick asked.
“It’s a three-pronged attack. You take out the Master of Arms. We take the clubhouse. Freddy and Alvarez Cross and his brothers wait in the wings to exterminate. We get this done and we make a statement.”
“That’s a pretty clear statement,” Nick murmured.
“Anyone who doesn’t stand with us is against us,” Laz ended. “The only question now, brothers, is…are you with me?”
“Nick, how are you doing? Are you in position?”
“Five more seconds.” Nick’s voice barely smothered the growl of his untraceable Mustang. “I have the bastard in my sights.”
We sat in a four-wheel drive in a parking lot across from the LionsDenz MC Club under a shroud of darkness. It was late…or early, depending on how you looked at it. I just wanted this to be done, so I could be home. “You tell me who I need to kill and they’re as good as dead.”
The Mustang’s engine roared in the background of the call. If we thought this was going to be easy, it wasn’t. The Master of Arms of the LionsDenz wasn’t just a nobody. He was the son of Marcus Diaz, head of the small but brutal Mafia seat in the south.
Marcus had a reputation of cutting off hands when it came to those who took form him, running a gambling operation that was worth hundreds of millions. He was mostly quiet and kept to himself. But after tonight, that was about to change.
I yanked open the car door and climbed out.
“One minute.” Nick grunted. I could hear the squeak of the window as he rolled it down.
To make a hit out in the open was brazen as fuck, but for who it was…it was goddamn suicidal.
“Mask,” I snarled.
“Already down, brother.”
I could hear it as I made for the edge of the building, the rush of the air, the muffled tone. I tucked the gun in the waistband of my jeans and made for the rear of the building. The music was still blaring, the fight that broke out when we got there was all over. Pity. I would’ve enjoyed the look on their faces when I walked in, took aim, and fired.
