No shit.
Dodge whipped his dick out and peed into the bottle.
“Are you fucking serious right now?” Track shouted. “We don’t need to smell your piss, man!” He rolled his window down. “Fuck. You need to drink more water!”
I rolled my window down, next. Dayum, that son of a bitch clearly didn’t drink enough of anything. It was so fragrant. Not even fragrant. Putrid.
“You all are babies. It ain’t that bad.” He chuckled. “Hey, they’re stopping. Guess I could’ve waited.”
“He guesses he could’ve waited,” Track hissed, pushing his door open as soon as I stopped and jumped out like his ass was on fire. Dodge followed him, zipping his pants. I’d throw the bottle out, but I wouldn’t want to risk Dodge’s piss getting traced back to us. We’d have to survive the smell on the way back.
I killed the lights and engine, joining my brothers.
Storm looked each one of us in the eyes. “I promised Raul we’d do this clean. He doesn’t want to see any of us behind bars. I don’t want to be charged with murder. I gotta kid on the way.” His gaze met Dodge’s. “You get me? Don’t be stupid.”
Dodge nodded.
Boxer bounced on his toes, working his arms and cracking his neck like a deranged motherfucker preparing to kill. He was brutal in the cage, taking out his opponent in the first round and outside of it. No doubt, due to that massive chip on his shoulder.
He’d been unusually hyper since yesterday. I wasn’t sure what was going on with him. Maybe it had something to do with his ex. Roja had seen Jill and Boxer get into it over Snow when she was with the ladies and guessed the brother got pissed and left. Track told me he spent the evening in the gym. Didn’t drink with the others. Didn’t take Libby up to his room or any other kitten.
What was it with so many brothers being without the woman they loved? It was a damn shame. I’d been one of them for years after Monica’s death. Would’ve been in hell if my Roja hadn’t forgiven me.
“Now you know the plan. Let’s get our gear on and rid the Earth of this particular breed of scum.” Storm clapped his hands.
Half an hour later, we hiked through the forest with knit ski masks, night-vision goggles, and camo gear. Grizzly gave us coordinates through our earpieces. I wasn’t nervous or afraid. Not with Boxer and Storm leading the way. They’d fought together in Afghanistan. Knew their way around weapons like a couple of experts. Well, hell, because they were.
Boxer raised his fist, our cue to stop.
“To the right, about two hundred yards is the cabin,” Grizzly said. “Hold tight while I check for thermal energy.” A moment later he relayed, “We’re clear.”
We proceeded forward, then split up: three to the right, three to the left. Storm and Dodge were with me. Grizzly stayed in the woods since he was like our command center; the eyes and ears to keep us safe. All he needed with his iPad, apparently.
“The security system has been disabled,” came Grizzly’s voice. “Thermal heat in the back left corner and front right. I assume in the front is the living room.”
I checked the air. Smoke billowed out of a pipe on the roof.
“Let’s go.” Storm pointed forward.
We entered the cabin from the front. Halfway in, we met up with Boxer and his crew. It was a small shack, one modest-sized room for the kitchen and living space, a small stone fireplace, and a hallway to the right. All wood from floor to ceiling. Very rustic. I kinda liked it. I wondered if Tara would too.
“Thermal heat approaching on four legs,” Grizz whispered.
Four legs?
Barking ensued. A snippy fucking Chihuahua had us on the move.
“Fuck.” Prez stormed toward the back bedroom.
Track grabbed the rat by the snout to shut him up.
In a rush, Storm had Miller bound and gagged. Shit, he was lightning fast. Miller hadn’t stood a chance.
Storm dragged him out of his bedroom, struggling and grunting. The rest of us stood off to the side and let our prez do his thing.
This was Storm’s moment of retribution.
Not one of us would ever interfere or take it away from him. Albeit, it wouldn’t be as satisfying as Storm would like. He couldn’t risk blowback on the club or spending life in prison for murder.