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“I guess that makes sense,” I responded as I tossed Storm his keys.”
Mason looked me over and ran his hands over my arms. “Are you okay? You’re looking really stressed.”
“It was less scary than I thought it would be. Did you hear what he said about Chester?”
Storm looked frustrated. “We did. And I feel like a fucking idiot for not realizing that was his nickname rather than his given name. Every fucking thing about that makes sense now, especially him sending you pictures of messed up dolls. I hope to hell I’m the one who gets to put a bullet in his head.”
“Stand in fucking line, boss. That twisted asshole is mine,” Mason ground out.
“Or we could just leave him to Anthony. He volunteered, after all,” I suggested.
Mason wrapped one arm around me and pulled me close. “Fuck that. You’re mine, so any threat to you is mine to eliminate.”
“Okay. Well, I’ve done my share of work for one day. I’m going upstairs to decompress.”
Mason frowned at me. “You said you were okay, Rilia.”
“I am. I just need some alone time to get my head together.”
“Are you sure? I can come with so we can talk whatever this is out.”
A stern feminine voice drifted over from the doorway. “Or you could just leave her the hell alone like she asked.”
“My woman shouldn’t be alone if she’s upset, Zoe. She needs me to soothe her,” Mason counted.
Zoe walked into the room, inserted herself between Mason and myself, and started nudging me toward the bar. “Believe it or not, the answer to every woman’s problem is not being soothed by a man.”
I was torn between wanting her to stay out of it and being amused by Mason’s sad face.
Mason just said, “If you need me, cher, just yell. I’ll be down in the bar waiting for you.”
Chapter 18
Mason
The minute Aprilia and Zoe were far away enough not to hear, I stated flatly, “I’m going to kill Chester the molester and none of you fuckers better try to steal my glory.”
“Don be such a prick, brother,” Celt said. “There’s no glory to be found in feckin’ murderin’ a man in cold blood.”
Renegade’s head whipped around to stare at his best friend. “You have got to be shitting me, Celt. You and I are both ex-convicts. Tell me with a straight face that you never killed a pedo on the inside.”
“Never, not once,” Celt swore.
Renegade frowned at him. “You mean because others got to them first, right?”
Irritated, Celt shot back, “Of course others got to him first. I might never have had the opportunity to nail one, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t have.”
Storm stepped in then. “Alright, alright. I think what my cousin was saying, none too articulately I might add, is that incarcerating or killing a pedophile is only way to get them to stop. Since we’re not about to begin locking them up in our basement and taking care of them, killing them is the only option. It’s necessary, but that doesn’t mean we should think of it as glorious.”
I shrugged. “I don’t care what we call it as long as he’s six feet under and I don’t have to worry about him coming for my Rilia every damn time my back is turned.”
Celt nodded. “We’re all in agreement. Chester doesn’t leave the meet up alive. Killing him is a necessary evil.”
Storm wrinkled his nose and glared at me. “You just had to give our mob contact a cutesy little nickname, didn’t you?”
I poked my finger brazenly against his chest. “Stop fuckin’ calling my old lady the mob contact. That’s just her job at the moment. Not who she is.”
“If you want her to be seen as anything other than a mobster’s daughter, you might want to put her in a property cut. If you don’t respect her enough to do that, don’t come whining to me when she gets disrespected.”
