She chews her lip. “That’s depressing.”
“Yeah, maybe, or maybe that’s just life.” I turn away and narrow my eyes as a lone figure walks out from the woods and heads toward the barn. “He’s here.”
She stiffens and I pull my hands away from her like peeling them from glue. I grab my binoculars and hold them up, and sure enough, there’s Jaxson, walking toward the barn. I grab my gun, make sure it’s loaded, and push open the door.
“Be careful,” she says.
“You’re coming with me.”
Her eyes widen. “Wait, what?”
“Can’t risk leaving you alone here in case he brought friends. Now come on, we have to hurry.”
I send a text to Eric as Cora gets out. Game on.
Players ready, he texts back.
“Let’s move.” I skirt toward the hedges on the left side of the field and Cora follows close. We move at a quick jog and sweat breaks out down my back. I glance over my shoulder a few times to make sure she’s keeping up, and as we get closer to the barn, I begin to slow. I crouch down and hold up a hand.
“He’s inside,” she whispers.
“Stay here. Right here and don’t move until I come back out. Scream if there’s a problem and I’ll come running. Understood?”
“Where’s everyone else?” But as she finishes the question, Eric appears twenty feet away stepping out from the trees. Past him, Troy emerges from his hiding spot. On the other side of the barn, Alex and Tom are in position and closing in.
Jaxson’s surrounded.
Cora remains hiding by the underbrush crouched behind some bushes as we close in. The boys look grim but solid, and we move with practiced precision. I reach the door first and peer inside to make sure it’s not a trap, but there’s nothing, only Jaxson standing near big chunks of fallen timber, staring at his phone and looking anxious.
I step in through the door, gun held up. Troy and Alex come in through the far door.
“Hey there, Jax.”
He looks up, startled, and drops the phone. His hands move to his waistband, but I hold the gun up higher, aimed at his head.
“Don’t,” Eric snaps and Jaxson stops, staring around him at the five guns pointed in his direction.
“What the hell is this?” Jaxson asks. But he fucking knows. I can see the horrified betrayal passing over his features.
“You don’t recognize a trap? I guess you wouldn’t. Stupid motherfucker.” I walk slowly toward him, lowering my gun. The rest of the guys remain trained on him. “Did you really think Kady wanted to see you again?”
“That fucking whore,” he whispers and sounds genuinely hurt. “She set me up.”
“If it helps, I made her do it. But here we are, all alone, and I have some questions for you.”
“Fuck you, Nolan. I don’t have to—”
I slap him across the face with the butt of my gun. His chin jerks back and he grunts in pain. I have to admit, it feels good to hit this piece-of-shit loser. The asshole that started it all.
“No, we’re not playing it like that. This isn’t going to be some friendly banter bullshit. I’m going to ask you questions, and if you don’t answer, I’m going to beat you until you bleed. Do you understand?”
He spits on the ground. “Fuck you.”
I hit him hard. Then I hit him again. He groans in pain and I hit him a third time and throw him onto the floor, right into his own spit.
“Who burned down Cora’s trailer?”
“I don’t know,” he says, rolling onto his side. “I had nothing to do with that.”
“Someone in the ORB did it. Who?”
“I don’t know,” Jaxson says and I kick him hard.
“Nolan,” Eric says, shaking his head. “Fuck the trailer.”
I grind my jaw. “Where does your club operate? Where do you stash your money? Where do you keep the drugs?”
“Fuck you.” Jaxson sits up on an elbow and shows me bloody teeth. “I might be dumb, but I’m not a snitch. Not like Cora.”
I kick him in the face. He gasps in pain and rolls backward, and Tom comes over to help. We work Jaxson over, making sure we don’t do anything to kill him, but inflicting maximum pain. Finally, he begs for us to stop as he curls up into a ball and hugs himself to try to protect his vital organs. The bastard’s just meat now, and I want to pulverize him until he’s tender.
“Where do you keep the money, Jaxson?”
“I don’t know,” he whines. “I really don’t. Please, I really don’t, but I know where they have guns.”
I glance at Eric. He nods once. Good enough.
“Tell me.”
“It’s a place called Dead Wolf Head. They pretend like it’s a brewery, but it’s really not. They’ve got guns in there, in the fucking big metal things where they’re supposed to be making the beer.”