CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Stefano
PAIN THROBS BEHIND MYleft eye as Oscar slows to a stop beneath the flickering streetlight outside the defunct building.
Muttering a curse, I knock back a double dose of painkillers and close my eyes for a beat, before getting out of the vehicle.
Benito, the lead of the Soldati team on lock here, trudges up to me and nods.“We’ve got them subdued, boss.”
“Great work, Nito.”
I walk through the rusted, thorn-choked gates and descend the crumbling concrete steps to the old underground brewery.The heavy-duty steel door hangs off its hinges.A result of the explosives my men used to blast it open.
My migraine intensifies as I stroll into the dank, cavernous space.
Lined against the weathered wall, bound and on their knees, are several of the mangy bastards from the Skullaz Motorcycle Club.Including their president, Cutter.
Once the Liquid Blue bartender vanished and they realized their secret op to attack Black Gold was busted, they scattered like cockroaches and went into hiding.Cowards.
Of course, I’ve known where they were all along, but I figured I’d let them sweat.Let them get a taste of what it feels like to live in hiding from me.In the meantime, we tracked down who hired them to carry out their dirty work.
See, Skullaz MC are nothing but a group of bottom-feeding, kill-for-hire scum wrapped in leather and ink.A disgrace to real motorcycle clubs.Sloppy, trigger-happy clowns loyal only to money.
They live and breathe in this city by my grace.No chance they would ever risk coming after me unless they were paid.
“Cutter…Cutter…” I shake my head and tsk.“Did you really think you could hide from me inmycity?”Letting the silence hang for a moment, I slip my hands into my pockets, disinclined to take another step into this mold-infested pit.“You think I don’t know aboutallyour safe houses?”
“Look, man, I ain’t never wanted no part of this from the jump, alright?Didn’t even know what those fools were up to.I don’t deserve to die for this shit, man.Please.”
Pathetic.
No one in the Skullaz MC jumps without Cutter telling them how high.But he’s always been quick to throw his own under the bus.That’s why he split the club members between safe houses.The ones at the other safe house downtown are the sacrificial lambs.He knows exactly what he’s doing.
“Come on, Cutter.No need to beg.”I tilt my head.“Who do you think you are that I’d come all this way just to kill you?You’rescum.If I wanted you dead, I’d have one of my lowest-ranking men put you down like the mangy dog you are.”
Throb.Throb.Throb.
Pain spreads across my forehead with splintering viciousness.
“That said…” I go on, “If you keep lying to save your ass, I might just change my mind.”
Cutter clams up, jaw tight, watching me warily.“If you ain’t here to put me in the ground, then what?”
“To give you a chance to make up for your…offenseagainst me.”
“Anything,” he blurts.“I’ll do anything!”
Fuck.My skull feels like it’s splitting in two.Why the hell aren’t the goddamn painkillers doing their goddamn job?
“Your task is to incite a war between the scattered cartel factions still squabbling for control along the border.The ones that have been circling like vultures since the fall of El Depravados.”
Cutter’s brows shoot up.“Whoa, wait.How the hell am I supposed to do that?The warjustended.Jose Hernandez came out on top and the rest already white-flagged and called a truce—”
“Did I ask you for an update on the current state of L.A.cartels?”
Jose Hernandez, the newly crowned kingpin, is who hired them.A blind hire.These idiots had no clue who they were working for.
Hernandez won the border war, then jumped in bed with my adversary.There’s only one reason why he would do that.He was promised something he knows he’ll never get as long asI’mrunning this city
