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Most didn’t even seem like they’d been able to draw their own weapons before they were picked off.
“Go,” the guy behind me said, tapping me with the gun, but not keeping it pressed into me.
If they were going to kill me, I figured I’d be dead as all these Neo-Nazis already.
So I followed the guys past all the bodies, down a hall with another set of bodies, and then into an office space.
There, sitting at the desk, eating the food I’d seen the dead guys bring in just a few minutes before, was, it seemed, the leader of this crew.
Whoever this guy was, he was dark-haired, dark-eyed, and clearly spent a fuckuva lot of time in the gym, judging by the way his chest and abdominal muscles were visible through his black tee.
“You,” he said, nodding at me as his men backed out of the room, but stayed right outside the doorway.
“The fuck am I doing here?” I asked, sounding bored and inconvenienced, not worried. Because the longer I was in this building, the less I felt I had a reason to worry.
“That’s the question,” he agreed, nodding. “I think it must have something to do with the woman who gave me this,” he said, reaching into his pocket to reveal a recording device, placing it on the table beside a pile of fries he hadn’t touched yet.
“You’re Rynn’s client,” I said, the pieces falling together.
Rynn likely had given him the device while I was heading back to Golden Glades. He’d listened, decided to take action, and just so happened to do so while I was looking for Rynn’s attacker.
“Glad to know she didn’t share that information,” he said. “She came highly recommended.
“She got beat to shit on this job,” I said. It wasn’t an accusation. But it was close.
“I noticed.” My confusion must have shown, because I hadn’t seen a hint of bruising under her makeup when she left. “She doesn’t wear makeup like that,” he said, shrugging. Seemingly unbothered by what had happened to her.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“Jai Xú,” he supplied.
It took a second to register before his name finally clicked.
An old story from before mine and Levee’s time at the club. Involving Che and Che’s girl. Who’d gotten herself mixed up between The Yakuza and The Triad.
Jai Xú was the leader of the latter.
A man who’d shot his own brother in front of Che and Saskia when he’d found out he’d fucked up.
Coldblooded, was one word Che had used to describe him. A man who shot his brother dead, then told Sass and Che to leave, so he could plan his brother’s funeral after his “tragic” death from an “brain aneurysm.”
“And you are another of those bikers,” he said, gaze moving over me.
“Yes. To be fair, Jai, I had no idea this had anything to do with The Triad. I was just here—“
“For revenge,” Jai supplied.
“Yeah.”
To that, he nodded, grabbing a napkin to wipe his mouth and hands, then standing.
“Come,” he demanded, turning his back on me, clearly not worried about me trying to act out.
And, yeah, if this was The Triad, there was no way I was shooting my way out of this situation, even if they wanted to try to kill me.
I followed Jai down a long hallway, past the restrooms, and then into the open space of a loading dock.
Where more of Jai’s men were standing there with another man on his knees between them.
