24. Chapter 24
Chapter 24
Lucas
T he boat comes to a stop, and the workers move down the large dock, securing ropes and pulling out the bridge.
They start removing crate after crate full of products, from guns to drugs, that will no doubt destroy families and fuck up people’s minds.
I should feel bad about it, but I’d rather they get pure shit from us rather than cutters from some low-life scum.
At least we know our shit is the purest you’re going to get on the streets of Daringhood, but after it’s out of our hands, who the fuck knows what those lower drug dealers do with it?
Frankly, it’s not our problem.
I mean, look what it did to Freya’s mother.
She hasn’t talked directly to me about it yet, but fuck, her mother is a wreck.
I shouldn’t even call her a mother, because she’s not.
She’s been chasing that high her whole life.
She put drugs before her own kids—that much is evident—and it’s the reason they got kicked out of Daringville in the first place.
At least my mom actually gave a fuck about me, even if it was for her own personal gain.
She always made sure we were taken care of.
Now that she’s gone, I’ve got to keep my shit together for my sister.
I’m all she has.
I’m her role model, and that’s fucked up.
Thank God she’s got her nanny looking after her.
I slide my sunglasses over my eyes, pulling the cap farther over my head.
I shouldn’t be here without telling my brothers, but fuck it.
I need answers about the explosion, and we aren’t getting any with our dicks in our hands or in Freya.
We’ve sent Zeke, Brax, and Callan in to check the docks, but they haven’t given us anything useful, and whoever set that bomb would have had to get it from somewhere—and nothing comes in or out of Daring without going through the docks.
Watching Freya touch herself the other night and get herself off was like watching my own private porn show.
The way she worked her fingers over her clit until she made herself come?
Jesus.
It took everything in me not to move from that seat in the corner of the room and have my way with her.
I wanted to keep my distance from her, to not let her in too deep.
To take things slow.
But watching her come apart .
.
.
fuck, it was hard not to intervene.
To stay put with my hand around my own cock, imaging her lips around it.
My dick twitches, but it’s not the time or place.
I’ve got work to do, and I can’t afford to be distracted by her.
It’s time to find out who the fuck has big enough balls to blow up the town hall and get away with it.
I push open my door and step out of the car I borrowed from one of our maids, shutting it quietly behind me.
Duke, one of our soldiers, watches me closely before glancing back at the crates and writing something down on his clipboard.
I hope the ball cap and glasses are enough to fool him into thinking that it’s not me, that I’m just a regular member of the Ville.
If I’m someone else, I might get more answers—get the crew to talk and find out if they know anything other than what they’ve told us.
I need the gossip because I know for a fact that these men gossip more than some women.
If they have heard anything, I’ll get it out of them.
Shoving my hands into the pockets of my reflective jacket, I stroll over and stand next to Duke, and he nods in greeting.
“Big shipment?” I ask, and he grunts.
“Hey. I heard your boss has been starting trouble in the Ville.”
Duke stops writing, flipping the pages of his clipboard closed.
“What? You got the wrong end of the stick.” He glares at me, then glances around us, but there’s no one close.
“I’d be looking a little closer to home if I were you.” He steps back, pulls out a cigarette from his pocket, and lights it up.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.
If he thinks we’ve got something to do with this, I won’t hesitate to pull out my Glock from my pants and kill this fuck head.
He raises his hands in surrender.
“I know The Brotherhood didn’t do it, but I’d be watching—”
Someone yells out from the ship.
“Get over here now, Duke!”
Duke takes one last drag from his smoke before putting it out under his boot.
“Look, Lucas, I know it’s you under those glasses and hat. That shit doesn’t fool me. All I’ll say is, look closer to home. That’s all I know,” he says, before walking off toward the ship.
I turn away, with his words playing around in my head.
What the fuck does he mean?
I know for a fact that my brothers had nothing to do with this, but who else is in our inner circle that would go behind our backs and kill all those people?
Possibly one of the councilmen who was unhappy with the proposed changes.
Could it have been Samson?
But would they really want war, though?
I head along one of the piers, where there’s a large shipped docked, and one of the workers drives a forklift off the ship with an empty case.
What the fuck?
I move closer, standing in front of him on the jetty.
He stops, his eyes widening when I take off my hat and glasses.
“Shit. Sorry, Lucas,” he mutters.
I haven’t seen him around before.
“What’s this about?” I ask, waving to the empty crate.
“It’s empty. The last few weapons shipments have been short.”
Fucking hell, we need to sort this shit out.
We can’t be losing stock.
This isn’t good for business.
I step out of his way, and movement near one of the rows of shipping containers catches my eye.
A shadow rushes into a container before I have a chance to see who it is.
I hurry in that direction, bringing my gun out of my pants, the cool metal resting against my sweaty palm.
I come to a stop outside the large shipping container door.
It’s open, but as I look inside, rows and rows of crates stare back at me.
Moving inside, I hide behind one of the crates and listen.
“Come out and play, dead little birdie. This cat is hungry!” I yell into the dark space.
Feet slap against the concrete floor.
I peek around the crate and catch sight of a familiar mop of chestnut-brown hair.
What the fuck is she doing here?