Shit.
“And I’m guessing that you’re not supposed to let me leave?”
He winked. “Nope.”
Twenty-Three
He may not post me on his social media, but I’m on his last nerve every day.
—Silver to Webber
WEBBER
Cadence Moran and her father were holed up in a houseboat about three football fields down the shoreline from Copper’s new build.
It was a rental, and they’d done a damn good job covering it up, but they hadn’t been smart with who knew the information.
The old lady had been too high on painkillers to be aware of what she was doing, but she’d find out soon enough when she found out her phone was missing.
But by that point, the issue would be taken care of.
The two Morans had done themselves no favors by going on the run and not telling anyone where to find them, only that they were going to lie low for a while.
No one would be looking for them.
Which worked in our favor quite spectacularly.
When we arrived, they didn’t even expect us to walk in through their back door.
Meaning we’d surprised them with our arrival, and neither one of them were prepared to have nine men walk into their living room with guns drawn.
“How convenient,” I said as I screwed on my silencer. “That you gave us the perfect location to dispose of your body.”
Moran the elder stood up, reaching for his gun on the counter.
But Chevy beat him to it.
The younger Moran reached under her shirt, but Cakes stopped her with a well-placed punch to the solar plexus before she could reach all the way.
Cadence Moran doubled over, and the elder Moran glared hard at us.
I caught him by the collar and marched him outside.
“Come on, time to go in the water.”
“I’ll never let you take me without a fight,” he said.
But before he could even finish his “fight,” I had him knocked out with a punch to the temple.
He fell face first into the water, and we left him there.
Cadence Moran hissed in a breath, ready to scream, but Cakes was there, silencing her.
She didn’t fall in the water, but Cakes helped her there anyway.
“Now what?” Cakes asked.
Four hours later, I found myself staring at my daughter. “I’m sorry, what?”
