Protected (Atlanta’s Finest #8)
Prologue
M averick “Wolf” Farron glanced out the window of the black Escalade as his driver, Thomas, pulled to a stop in front of one of the well-hidden warehouses. As the leader of Diego Kingz, the most feared organized crime syndicate in Southern California, Wolf often had to make an example of people. Like today. Today he would show his crew what happened to those who betrayed him. A lasting reminder of how important loyalty was in their business.
Thomas parked in front of the warehouse, then opened the back door of the vehicle. Wolf stepped out and gave the industrial area a cursory glance. Despite it being the middle of August, unlike other parts of the country this time of summer, locals enjoyed the breezy seventy-eight degrees. Birds chirped, and Wolf soaked up the sounds of nature as he released a long breath.
He had purchased the property, three hundred acres outside of San Diego, almost twenty years ago. Now it was valued in the millions, and it was just one of a few good business decisions he’d made.
To anyone looking in from the outside, the land was used by a construction company. The factory, heavy equipment, and a few other buildings could be seen from the street. No one could see this warehouse tucked away from the road with mountains as its backdrop.
Elder, Wolf’s head lieutenant and one of Wolf’s oldest friends, exited the building. “Hey, Boss.”
“Is everything set up?” Wolf asked and rolled up the sleeves of his white dress shirt that was a stark contrast against his dark skin.
Elder nodded. “Yes. Just waiting for you.”
Wolf’s heart hardened as he and Elder strolled toward the rollup door. There’d been a time when he trusted his crew above all else, but now that they’d discovered a traitor in his inner circle, there were changes to be made.
Wolf should’ve known this could happen again. He’d made that mistake of trusting the wrong person once before, and the Kingz ended up in a gang war with the Euclid Disciples, one of their rivals. It hadn’t ended well for either side. After losing several of his men in brutal deaths, Wolf had found out that his own flesh and blood—his son—had been the one to betray him.
Never again. Never would his son be able to double-cross him again.
Thinking about that time in his life sent fury coursing through Wolf’s veins. The duplicity had cut deep and was unforgivable, but Wolf had made sure it would never happen again. Killing his son had been his only choice and one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do. But he’d had to use his death as an example to the others who thought they could deceive him and get away with it.
Now, here he was again showing the Kingz that he wouldn’t tolerate disloyalty.
Wolf stopped inside the building and removed his sunglasses, tucking them into the pocket of his shirt. While Slick, one of their captains, pulled down the overhead door, locking them inside and keeping the outside world outdoors, Elder filled Wolf in on the latest.
“It didn’t take long to find Franz. He was holed up in some woman’s basement,” Elder, whose real name was Roger Thompson, said close to Wolf’s ear.
His friend was tall and formidable. They’d grown up together in Lincoln Heights, one of Los Angeles’s roughest neighborhoods. Products of drug-addicted parents, they couldn’t wait to be on their own and both had left home at sixteen.
Living on the streets at that age had been hard as hell, but they’d survived, thanks to an OG who had taken them under his wing. He’d introduced them to gang life, a community of brotherhood. Now, over forty years later, Wolf was known in these parts as one of the meanest, most badass leaders around.
“Once word got to the woman that we were looking for Franz, she wanted him out of her house. Long story short, we picked him up, and he’s hanging in the back.”
They moved further into the dimly-lit space. A few light fixtures hung from the rafters, but the windows near the ceiling were the main source of sunlight. The space imitated an auto garage with ten bays that hosted several vehicles in various states of repair. Auto parts and miscellaneous supplies added to the desired effect of making the garage look legit.
Moments later, they entered the torture chamber, a well-hidden room at the back of the building. As twisted as it might seem, peace settled over Wolf. His gaze took in twenty of his most trusted soldiers, standing at attention in a semi-circle. All heights, sizes, and builds, they looked lethal standing before him with their arms behind them and their feet spread shoulder width apart.
Yeah, these were the men who he knew had his back. The ones who he could count on for anything, even murder. And today they’d get a firsthand lesson on what happened when they betrayed him.
Wolf’s gaze landed on the man in the middle of the space with thick plastic on the floor beneath him. He hung from the rafters with chains wrapped around his wrists. No doubt Franz’s arms felt as if they were going to fall off since his feet were dangling several inches off the ground. He’d been hanging there for a while.
Slick handed Wolf a pair of white, waterproof overalls to slip into over his clothes. These interrogations tended to get a little messy, and this one would be worse. Normally, he brought people into this room to force answers out of them, but Wolf already had his answers. Franz had thought it was okay to start a side hustle using some of the Kingz’s product. His stupid ass should’ve known he wouldn’t get away with it.
“Just shoot me,” Franz said, his breaths coming in short spurts. His head was cocked to the side as sweat and blood dripped from his battered face.
Wolf chuckled as he slipped on a pair of thick gloves. “And give you an easy death? What would be the fun in that? Besides, you wouldn’t want to deprive me of the opportunity to torture you, right?”
All humor left Wolf’s tone as he approached a rolling cart that held chains, hand tools, power tools, and a torch. He grabbed a thick chain and wrapped it around his right hand, covering his knuckles.
“Wolf, please! Don’t! I gave Slick the money that I made,” Franz cried. “Please! I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“You’re damn right it won’t happen again!” Wolf roared, startling a few who looked on.
He allowed his gaze to lock onto everyone standing around to witness what was about to take place.
“Let this be a lesson to all of you. If you ever think about betraying me or the Kingz, remember this day. You don’t get to steal from me, and if any of you try the same shit that Franz tried, this will only be a taste of what I’ll do to you.”
Wolf punched Franz in his left side, and the chain punctured the skin there, and blood trickled out. He was also sure that he had broken a rib or two if the man’s screams were any indication. He put all his six-feet-two inches and two hundred and forty pounds behind his next punch. Then Wolf followed that up with another one-two jab to Franz’s torso as if he was getting a workout in on a punching bag.
It would’ve been bad enough if he’d just used his fists, but the thick chain added a hundred percent more pain. A few members of their crew flinched with each punch. Maybe they were empaths and could physically feel the hits themselves. Others cursed under their breaths.
Wolf didn’t let up. This felt good. It felt too damn good to work off some of his fury that had been building since finding out what Franz had done. He didn’t have to kill the guy, a good ass-whooping would suffice, but he had to follow through with his plan. He had to teach everyone present a lesson that they’d never forget.
When Franz’s screams quieted, his head hung awkwardly to the side as he fell in and out of consciousness. His breaths were ragged, and it was safe to say at least his broken ribs had punctured one of his lungs.
Wolf nodded to Elder and Slick to unhook the man. They set him in a nearby chair, then wrapped a rope around him to keep him upright.
“Please…no more,” Franz barely managed to say, his voice hoarse and nasal as he struggled to breathe.
Wolf had no sympathy for people who weren’t loyal to him. He tossed his chain on the rolling cart of tools and grabbed the blowtorch. Some of the Kingz watching looked as if they were going to be sick.
Good . The lesson was going over better than expected.
“Almost done,” Wolf soothed as he lit the torch. “Almost done.”