Teke: He fell trying to get off the sofa, and I had to call an ambulance.
Jesus. I rubbed my hand over my face in frustration. My father had always been a large man, and his mobility had long been limited due to his weight. Over the past few years, he had gained several more pounds, which worsened his immobility.
However, the notion of him falling off the sofa while trying to get up proved that my brother was a scheming dumbass. My father had lived on that sofa for the past ten years. He slept on it, ate on it, and every once in a while, he peed on it when he couldn’t get his dick into the piss bottle. But get off the sofa? Teke was lying. Why?
Me: You’re lying. Now tell me what you really want.
I waited a good two minutes before texting him again.
Me: Teke. Answer me.
Teke never answered me back. My only conclusion; the bastard was probably drunk. I shook my head, shoved my phone back in my pocket and went back into the room. As I glanced down at Regina, peacefully sleeping, my heart hitched up and I was a happy man.
For the first time since we got caught and I took the blame for Teke’s stolen car, my life was finally coming together. And once Regina and Decker worked through their issues, we could finally be the family we were meant to be.
Chapter Twenty-One
Decker
I had been a real bastard to Regina. In fact, from the wariness in her eyes, she didn’t trust me, and that was something I never wanted to see on my girl’s face. But I couldn’t help it. Whatever she was hiding was the big reason why she had fled Elida and cut off all communication with us. It had been years since we’d been together, and her silence felt like a betrayal.
Raking my fingers along my scalp, I realized I was no better than her. I had never reached out to either of them, because I was so far up my own ass with problems that I had solely focused solely on myself. “Jesus, Jeromy. How did I get myself into this shit?” I stared up at the stars, wished he heard me.
Damn. This was the first time since his death that I’d said my ex’s name out loud. And it hurt. Genuinely pained me to the point that the initials I’d long-ago carved into my skin, on the inner part of my arm, ached.
I rubbed my fingers over the raised scarring and cursed. Needing to get out of my head, I started running. And since I hadn’t fully cleaned up the cabin where those two hitmen had been hiding out, I headed back there to finish the job.
Relieved to find the dwelling dark and quiet, I gathered what little food and supplies they had brought with them. Since a fire was out of the question, and I didn’t want to dig another hole, I decided to take everything back with me.
Once I knew no traces of either man remained, I climbed onto the ATV and started the engine.
Right as I pulled up to Merrick’s home, my cell phone buzzed with a text message. I glanced at the screen and it was Sabrina.
“It’s been a week. Give me good news,” I said, while glancing at the upper windows, and wondered what Krew and Regina were doing without me.
“I have some—and some that’s not so good.”
“Just lay it on me.” I dropped into the wicker chair on the porch, tipped my head back and stared up at the dark sky, which was littered with millions of stars.
“I had to do a deep dive on this shit. Eventually, I traced the original contract you completed,” she said with some dread. The clacking of keys stopped and the silence had me on the edge.
“You found out who took the hit out on Maxwell?” I asked, keeping my voice low tone, in case Krew or Regina was sleeping.
“Not a who, but a what.”
“Sabrina,” I growled, dragging out her name in warning.
“It’s not one person, it’s a group called the Agonas Associates,” she explained quickly.
“Never heard of them,” I admitted, while glancing around the area, staying alert for movements. Two killers had already camped out this close to us. I wouldn’t be surprised if more showed up.
“It’s a syndicate that runs the underground fight circuit in the Midwest, but the powers that be want to branch out toward the East Coast. No one knows who is involved—or who gives the orders. The group keeps a low profile, while their low-level scumbags do all the work.”
“Low-level. Meaning, Kane Maxwell?”
“Yes. And Jess Duncan.”
“Okay. If they took out the hit for Maxwell, then I’m assuming they did the same for Duncan and Maya.”
