“Maybe ‘cause there’s no shit to give. I don’t know how many times I have to say it, we’re out of the drug business.”
“Yeah, well, I believe you now.”
“Wish I could say the same.”
“I didn’t order him to shoot anyone.” Alvarez shifted his attention onto Hoffman. “Is that what you’re telling them? You’re puttingmyname on your fuck-up?”
“He’s not saying much of anything,” muttered Bull when Hoffman continued to keep his silence.
Without any further preamble, Alvarez reached behind his back, pulled out a gun, cocked it, and pointed it in Hoffman’s direction.
“I suggest you speak up.”
Hoffman cowered immediately, folding in on himself as he stammered, “Don’t shoot. Don’t shoot! I-I-I—I acted alone, okay?Fuck—I acted alone. I was trying to make a play. I needed to prove to you I still had value,” he cried, peering hesitantly down the barrel of Alvarez's gun. “I warned that bitch, and she didn’t listen. I—”
The gun went off, the bullet aimed true, and before Wrangler’s mind could process what was happening, Hoffman’s brain was splattered on the carpet. He lost his grip on the man as he fell limp to the ground.
“The fuck?” cried Bull.
The doors behind them burst open, Maverick and Mustang racing to their brothers’ aid. As soon as they saw the dead man wasn’t one of them, they froze.
Alvarez put his gun away as he said, “There. Problem solved. We good?”
“We weren’t gonnakillhim.”
“That’s your problem, my friend. You don’t kill your traitors, you let them rot in jail. Trouble is—unless they’re dead, there’s always the possibility theirstinkwill come back to haunt you.” He then looked to Borrero and instructed, “Get the clean-up crew in here. I just bought that fuckin’ rug.”
Itwasnearlysixo’clock that evening when Wrangler pulled into his garage. He’d had more than enough time to get over what happened that morning. While he wished he’d had his chance to exact his own vengeance against the man who tried to kill the woman he loved—Alvarez was right. After all he’d done to betray the Wild Stallions and everything they stood for, Hoffman’s death was warranted.
Now, for what felt like the first time since he laid eyes on her, there were no threats looming over his Lex. They could move on—finally.
Before he could even step out of his Tahoe, she was standing at the garage door, anxiously waiting for him. After hours on the road, he was exhausted, and she sure was a sight for sore eyes.
“Hi,” she murmured as he approached.
“Hey, darlin’.”
Her amber eyes gave him a quick once over, scanning him from top to toe before she reached for him. With her arms wrapped around his shoulders, she made it easy for him to lift her off her feet and carry her inside.
“What happened? Is everyone okay?”
He shut the garage door behind them and took her to the couch. With her still held against his chest, he flopped down onto his back, taking her with him.
“Jed,” she laughed. “Papi, say something.”
He moved to gather her hair away from her face, sweeping it behind her ears before he said, “It’s over. Hoffman’s gone.”
Her smile fell, a frown tugging her eyebrows together. “Gone?” she murmured.
“He’s dead, Lex.”
She gasped, propping herself up against his chest. “What? How?”
“Wasn’t us,” he assured her with a shake of his head. “Our hands are clean. I promise.”
He watched as she processed the news. It took her a minute, but he knew it had settled when she nodded and whispered, “It’s over.”
“Yup.”
