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“Hey kid,” he looks up when he hears me come in.
“Tac, I’m sorr…”
“No explanation needed. Prez has just been speaking to me, I can manage at the studio while you got eyes on Tommy. Getting Skid that fucking brother of his is more important. You keep hard on that fucker and don’t worry about me, kid.” He wraps his hand around the back of my head and pulls me closer. “Jessie mentioned summit about it the other week, but you never told me how stretched you were,” he adds before he pulls away and lights up a smoke. “I’ma go get my dick polished, I’ll catch up to ya later.”
Prez waits for Tac to close the door before he speaks.
“How's it goin’?” he asks, his face suddenly turning serious.
“It’s actually goin’ okay. I asked her for some help studying, thought it would be a good in. She’s already let it slip that she doesn’t like her father. I’m hoping to find out why soon.”
“Good work, kid.” He nods back, impressed.
“You free tonight? Club got something that needs takin’ care of, we could use you. But if you need to study, I’m sure we can cover it.”
I think about taking the opportunity to take Ella up on her invitation. I could go to her tonight, maybe we could even hang out like regular teenagers do. But I don’t trust myself around her. Not now that all I can think about is kissing her again.
Normality is what I need to get me thinking straight again. And this is my normal.
“I’m free, could use some action.” I tip my chin at Prez.
“Cage leaves in an hour,” he tells me with a smirk, his head gesturing towards the door signaling for me to leave. I step out into the foyer and take a breath, hoping that whatever job Prez has for me tonight involves me getting my hands dirty.
An hour later, I’m sitting in the back of the cage opposite Squealer and Screwy. Brax is beside me while Grimm’s behind the wheel. The fact he’s come along is enough to suggest things are gonna get messy.
“You good, kid?” Brax asks me, sliding his black leather gloves over his hands.
“Yep,” I nod, knowing that all the tension inside me is soon gonna be relieved. For a while at least.
“Should be an in and out.” Squealer smiles, spinning the silencer onto the end of his Glock.
“You’re covering us from the back,” Brax gives me my order and it immediately pisses me off.
“What? No. I want in.”
“Don’t argue, kid, you're still green and Prez has put me in charge of this little excursion. We got Grimm covering upfront, and you’re watchin’ the back, end of discussion.”
“I ain't green.” I snap back the slider on my semi-automatic to load its chamber. I’ve taken out more than one man for this club, probably nowhere near the number Brax has, but that don’t mean I ain’t capable of pulling this off.
“Leave the killing to the big boys.” Squealer winks, flipping the toothpick he’s holding between his teeth.
Asshole.
“We’re here,” Grimm calls back at us. We pull the balaclavas down over our heads.
“Remember, nobody takes out Nelson, we promised Declan we’d take that fucker back breathing.”
“But the rest, they’re fair game, right?” Squeal checks.
“Have at it.” Brax smirks before Grimm slides the side door open, and we all pile out.
I dart off into the tree line behind the house. When I see it’s all clear, I give them the signal. And then have nothing to do but listen to the sound of wood splintering, followed by muted ping gunshots. I’m pissed as hell; I didn’t come here to be fuckin’ look out. I want in on the action, and I can guarantee if I had my patch that’s exactly where I’d be. I’ve proved on more than one occasion that I’m handier for more than being a pair of fuckin’ eyes.
The back door suddenly flies open and a man stumbles out. He starts picking up pace and I can’t see through the dark whether it’s Nelson or not. I point my gun aiming for the fucker’s knee cap, and after I pull the trigger he only manages to make another few meters before he hits the deck. I race over to him, checking he ain’t armed before I press my boot into his throat and keep him grounded. Fucker looks familiar, with a shaved head and an angry-looking scar that cuts from his eye to the corner of his mouth. I remember serving him drinks at the club when the Utah Charter last visited.
“Fuck,” he shuts his eyes tight, and tries to suck in air from underneath my foot. The traitor knows he’s in fuckin’ trouble.
I reach down and haul the asshole up by his scruff, placing him on to his feet and pressing the chamber of my gun against his temple. Brax comes racing out the back door, slowing down when he sees that I’ve caught his mark.
