Tamara （Tammy） Wilson
N ow that we have settled back in Jacksonville in a temporary home, Richard and I have decided it’s time to put our plans in motion. We have been keeping an eye on the club, and they haven’t been out much at all. Since Harley and Rage are gone now, I am sure they are mostly in shambles.
We have kept under the radar for the last month so we could prepare ourselves for everything. I want to be back in my home, but I know they were watching it from what our source said, so we have stayed away until now. We finally get to head to our home today as we make it known we are back.
“Are you ready?” Richard asks me with a small smirk as we pull up to our destination.
Grinning over at him, I respond, “Hell yes. This is what we have been aiming for, Rich. This is the end game. No more snotty kids to deal with, a town that will belong to us, where we can do whatever the hell we want when we want.”
“I’ve already been in contact with a few people my father knew about getting Jacksonville set up to do safe transports. We will have guns, drugs, and people all coming through here and be making millions from it.”
“Perfect,” I tell him, and we hop out of his truck. Grabbing everything we need from the bed, we head over to the building. There should only be cleaners and maybe some security here right now. We want our first move to be impactful, yet not too extreme. But after this one? All bets are off.
The door is unlocked, so I head inside while Richard prepares the outside. “Can I help you?” a man around my age asks.
“Hi, sorry. I’m a friend of the owner, Blade. I just needed to borrow a bathroom really quickly. We are traveling and saw this place was the closest,” I tell him, rubbing my legs together.
He glances down and then nods, “Go ahead.”
Once I am in the bathroom down the long, empty hall, I pull one of the small cans of gas out of my bag and dump it all over. After tossing a match on it, I run across the hall to the office and do the same thing before getting the fuck out of there. When I get outside the front door, Richard is waiting with a chain and lock in his hands. As soon as the door shuts, he locks the doors up and then tosses a match on the gas he poured all the way around the building.
“The chains?” I raise a brow at him as we go back over to the truck to wait.
He smirks. “That’s just for my enjoyment. No one can get out of there. Everything is locked.”
Laughing, I lean back against the side of the truck and watch the flames grow around the Sons of Silence’s nightclub, Dirty Sinner.
Next is the little restaurant, Hazel’s Soul Diner.
We’re destroying everything they have, piece by piece.