Page 2 of Property of Shotgun
I swallow thickly, no part of me wants to make any promises—certainly not ones that pertain to Jade but denying a man when he’s on the brink of death is just as inhumane as chopping pieces of his body.
“I’ll look after them,” I say hoarsely. “You have my word.”
Dropping his head, a sigh escapes his lips. “That’s good as gold.”
He wouldn’t be saying that if he knew how many nights I’ve laid awake thinking of his wife, wishing she were mine and not his.
The steel door opens, and the masked man who appears to be in charge of this butchering enters the cellar, flocked by two of his minions who are also masked. Only a pussy fucking wears a mask.
Won’t save them though.
I’ll figure a way to hunt them and I’ll take everything from them. This cocksucker and his cronies might think they have the upper hand now, but soon they’ll learnno one fucks with the Kings.
“I gotta say I admire your loyalty,” he croons, making his way toward Irish.
“Fuck you,” I spit, hoping to derail his attention. I’m not even sure Irish is alive at this point. He hasn’t made much noise since he made me promise to take care of Jade and the kids.
Even so, I ain’t going to stand by and watch them chop off another part of him. I can’t fight with my hands, but I can use whatever strength I have to piss these fucks off with my words. “You’re going to regret every fucking thing you’ve done when I find your family, and make you watch as I cut them up into pieces.”
A sinister chuckle echoes throughout the damp room, and the masked leader turns to me.
“That’s not very nice to say after I’ve spared you,” he tsks. “And here I was about to grant you some good news.” He takes another step toward me, then comes to an abrupt stop. I watch as he reaches behind him, pulling out the long, serrated knife he used to hack off Irish’s fingers. He lifts it between us like it’s a trophy, examining it carefully before swiping at a spot of blood that lingers along the sharp edge. “Seems Biggie has come through, and my superior has ordered for your immediate release.”
I don’t trust this motherfucker one bit.
“I promised him one living King, but I never specified whom I’d deliver.” He turns to one of his minions. “Is he still alive?”
My gaze darts to where Irish lays, and I watch the black clad figure bend in front of him, touching his fingers to Irish’s neck. He turns slightly and nods.
“There’s a pulse.”
The masked man’s gaze flits back to me. “Quite impressive, wouldn’t you say?”
“Leave him alone,” I growl. “You need a body. Take mine.”
He laughs wickedly. “That’s not your decision to make.”
“You have no fucking idea what a grave mistake you’re making. Nothing and no one in your circle will ever be safe after this. If you don’t kill me, I’m going to make it my life’s mission to come after you. And I’m going to make everyone you know and love suffer. Your wife. Your kids. Your fucking parents. No one will be off limits. So make the right choice, motherfucker. Choose me.”
Keeping his eyes trained to me, he orders his men to bring Irish over to us. They unchain him and lift him from the ground. Irish moans faintly and they drag his limp body toward us. I inwardly flinch when I get a glimpse of his face, but I don’t stare at him for too long. I don’t want the last memory of him to be like this.
The masked fuck glances from me back to Irish, and I feel my adrenaline spike. I tug my wrists, and oddly enough I don’t feel any pain. My wrists are raw and bloody, and I still fight with everything I got.
“Let him fucking go,” I roar, the metal cuffs clanking against the pipe as I continue to tug.
Then, before I can even blink, the masked cunt lifts his knife and drives it straight across Irish’s neck. Blood spurts from his jugular, and the two men holding him remove their hands from under his arms. A feral noise rips from the back of my throat as I watch my brother fall forward, his blood pooling around his lifeless body.
“You tell Biggie there is only one King of New York City, and it isn’t him. The next time he makes a move on the seaport, I’ll take more than just his vice president’s life.”
It’s a declaration of war.
But for me it’s a warrant for his death.
ONE
“Fuck,”Guido mutters as the cage comes to slow stop. The sound of his voice has me focusing my blurry vision on the scene ahead of us. It’s not the dozen or so motorcycles that gives him pause, though. It’s the pregnant woman standing outside the clubhouse with the two prospects.
“Why is Jade here?” I rasp, turning my head to glance at Guido.
