Chapter 27
CHAPTER 27
RIO
T onight is not going how I imagined it. We were supposed to have a calm evening with dinner and maybe a nice fuck fest to soothe Spencer after the shit show outside the FBI. But no. Now Zane and I are chasing some motherfucker down the street who dropped a dead body on our doorstep.
Way to ruin the mood, pendejo.
The idiot dashes down an alley. Zane follows, which means it’s my job to cut him off. I double my effort, lengthening my stride.
Should’ve done more running with Spencer.
I turn the corner and come up to where the alley spits back out onto a main street. Thankfully, the perpetrator emerges in front of me. On my next step, I launch myself forward and tackle the guy to the ground. We roll a few times when the sound of a click echoes on the street. Zane stands over us with his gun pointed at the guy.
“Fuck! I think you broke my arm!”
“Don’t be such a baby; I highly doubt it’s broken. If we’re complaining, then you got Spencer’s favorite pants dirty.” I wrestle him under me and get his hands behind his back. I stand and pull him to his feet with me.
A streetlamp gives us little light, but the big “13” on the back of his neck in gothic script stands out like a damn neon sign.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me! MS-thirteen?”
Zane moves to stand next to me to get a better view. “Fucking Gabriel.”
“I highly doubt he knows about this.”
“He’s probably behind the whole thing.” Zane glares at the guy’s neck.
“We both know he’s not. Now let’s get this trash back to the house.”
Zane presses the end of the barrel to the guy’s back. “Make a sound and I’ll put one in the back of your skull. I don’t care who hears it.”
The guy responds by standing taller and puffing up his chest. He’s a few inches shorter than us with not a lot of meat on his bones. He’s nowhere near intimidating, and all this posturing is rather annoying.
We make it back to the house without incident and tie the man up in the basement. Spencer doesn’t ask questions or anything when we get back with a man at gunpoint. She’s huddled on the couch with a cup of tea in her hands and a blanket around her shoulders.
“I called it in,” Asher says by way of greeting. He’s standing century at the back of the sofa, ensuring no nefarious person can get to Spencer.
“Did you check the note?” I ask.
Spencer pops out of her stupor and stands. “What note?”
Asher gestures for Spencer to sit back down. “Spencer?—”
“I want to see it,” she interjects.
“Mama, I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”
Spencer sets down her mug with vigor. “Why not? We all know who did this!”
Zane grabs Spencer’s hand. “You shouldn’t touch the evidence until we know for sure.”
“Fuck this.” Spencer shoves Zane into me, and we tumble backward into the bar stools.
“Princess,” Asher cautions. Spencer ignores the warning and fakes right then left. Asher falls for her tactics and trips. Spencer runs around the couch and straight for the body.
“Shit!” Asher grunts.
“ Mierda ,” I complain.
Zane is the first one to get to Spencer just as she’s plucking the greeting card from the bouquet. She kicks her legs wildly as Zane lifts her off her feet from behind. She refuses to let go of the card as Asher and I attempt to get it out of her hands.
“You fucking cavemen!” she wails.
As frustrating as this display of rebellion is, it’s a little too hot to ignore. Her determination. Her fire. It has me hard in my slacks.
When Asher reaches for the card again, Spencer snaps her teeth at him. “I’ll spank your ass raw if you bite me, Princess.”
“Try it, see what happens, big guy!”
I sigh. “Just let her read it.”
“Fuck. Fine.” Asher runs a hand through his hair.
Spencer rips open the envelope and reads silently to herself.
“Well?” Asher asks impatiently.
Spencer’s face turns ashen as she scans the card over and over. “It’s for all of us.”