Chapter 46
CHAPTER
FORTY-SIX
WRATH
The building burns. I can’t walk away. I have to watch as the flames paint the night sky red.
I know it makes me fucked up, I make no fucking bones about that.
What I also know is that the whole sight is mesmerizing.
I want to watch it fall and turn into rubble.
I’m sure that makes me some kind of monster.
Maybe some shrink would have a field day with that, but I don’t give a shit.
I like it.
“It’s pretty,” Hippie mutters next to me.
“Everyone got out okay?” I ask.
He hums, clearing his throat. “They did, but we got an issue.”
“Yeah?” I ask.
“The owner.”
My eyes widen as I whip my head to the side. Hippie doesn’t look happy. Two-Pump and Blast appear at my side, seemingly out of nowhere, even less happy. I’m sure they had to sneak away from the group in the midst of the chaos.
My gaze flicks between each of them, and I let out a heavy sigh, because I don’t think I want to know. I have no doubt that whatever they’re bringing me, it’s going to be bad, because how could it be anything but that with the way they’re looking at me?
“What about him?”
“Whelp,” Hippie begins. “He’s not the owner.”
My heart slams against my chest at his words. My eyes widen, and I turn my entire body to face him. I ignore the way the burning building smells, which I fucking love. This shit is already pissing me off and ruining my life.
“What the fuck do you mean he’s not the owner?” I demand.
Blast clears his throat and reaches behind his head, bowing his head slightly before he curls his fingers around the back of his neck, massaging it. He flicks his gaze up to meet mine.
He releases his grasp, letting out a heavy sigh before he finally speaks, telling me what the fuck is actually going on. He rocks back on his heels, then he starts talking, and I don’t fucking like it.
“The guy who hired you and signed the contract is the owner’s wife’s ex. She cheated on him with the owner, left him, and the divorce was finalized about a year ago. She used some of her divorce money to invest in the event center.”
“Fuck,” I hiss. “He showed me all the required documents, including the insurance policy.”
“They had to be fakes. I’ve got him in the back of the pickup, tied up.”
As much as I want to stay here and watch this place burn to the fucking ground, I can’t, because not only did this asshole lie to me, but I also got so fucking blinded by the money that I didn’t do the research the way I should have.
“Let’s tune this fuck up. We got several million dollars to take out on his ass,” I grind out.
The four of us make our way toward the pickup. Two-Pump, Blast, and Hippie all came together in a truck, and I brought my own. Our plates are linked to absolutely nothing, no way for us to get tagged on any camera, courtesy of the cops we’re in bed with.
So now we take the asshole back to the clubhouse. The fact that he thought he was going to get away with this is beyond me. But then again, maybe he wants to die.
It would be the ultimate fuck-you to the ex: he gets her whole building burned down, and we kill him so he doesn’t have to live with the guilt. But she is left living with her destroyed livelihood.
Not today.