Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 89815 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89815 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Day hid his shock. No wonder Jason was still in the hospital from a shoulder hit.
“They... they were so mean. Just look at the piece of video George got of them after they almost knocked him out in the backyard.” Marcus gasped as if he was suddenly being choked. “The darker one broke Kenny’s leg so bad he probably won’t ever walk right again. And I think my friend Ralph is still standing in the goddamn corner in his living room with piss running down his leg.”
“What?” Day scoffed.
“You heard me right.” Marcus fidgeted. “Then, as if they hadn’t fucked us enough; they blew up my goddamn truck before they left. I have no money, none. Over one-point-two million dollars vanished out of my account before my fucking bank even opened this morning. So, yeah. I need protection, because this was done inside.”
Neither Day nor Ronowski said anything.
“I have proof, but the assholes took my phone. At my house there’s a safe in one of the guest rooms. I got a few things in there that should be enough. But, I want exemption for me and my brother Jason if I do this.”
“Fine,” Day said without needing to check with their special prosecutor. “If it’s worth it, we’ll cut you a deal.”
“My brother too?” Marcus continuously rubbed his hands back forth.
“Make sure it’s good,” Ro deadpanned.
“How about a DA and a prosecutor that are both in my pocket? That good enough for you? Even if I told you who killed that kid, the guy wouldn’t stand trial. Big Mike is the DA’s biggest contributor.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
God
“Son of a bitch,” God muttered. “This shit just keeps getting better, don’t it?”
“I knew it,” Syn rumbled in that throaty growl God was used to hearing when his sergeant was close to snapping. “I knew he was dirty. And now he’s protecting the leader of the Warlords?”
“I got an eyewitness coming here for protective custody. The goddamn DA has to sign off on that,” God snarled. “We can’t risk anyone finding out about Marcus’ confession or our witness until we see this proof.”
“I’ll get us a special prosecutor in here to take Marcus’s statement and approve the protection detail. If we don’t do this by the book, and go off half-cocked on an elected official without all our ducks lined up, then we’ll be screwed. And being out of a job will be the least of our worries,” Captain Meyers said before turning to leave.
“Be careful. We don’t know how deep this shithole goes,” God warned his boss. “We don’t know who to trust.”
The captain left after a stiff nod and God stood there with Syn, reeling, wondering why the good news was always followed with fucked-up news. He was gonna get his conviction for Evan Martin if it killed him, then he was going to put his size-twelve foot up that DA’s old, dirty ass.
“God.” Steele opened the door and stuck his head in the room. When he saw it was just the two of them, he and Michaels came inside.
“Yeah.” God released a slow exhale. “You guys got the ballistics report?”
“It’s not ready yet. So, we been watching the small clip of video Marcus gave us from that guy’s phone... the one with the shattered jaw. I think you should see this.” Steele placed the iPhone on the table. “The guy who’s recording is on the ground so it’s at a bad angle, but he was able to catch their backs.”
“Who?” God asked.
“The men Marcus and his brother are so afraid of,” Steele said. “And rightfully so.”
God and Syn both stared at the screen. “Walk me through what I’m seeing, Steele,” God told him.
“Look hard.” Steele stood close enough that God could smell the rustic leather of his aviator jacket. “These two guys come in coordinated as fuck. After using a flashbang, look how the dark one is still able to make quick target selections in such a hostile environment, as if he’s used to it. They started with the youngest and least physically fit to rid the least likely threat before getting to why they were there.”
God saw another man’s lower half come into view just as the loud music came to a sudden stop. The men were talking now but he couldn’t hear what they were saying. Then he heard three solid pops from a powerful handgun, before he watched a man slide down the side of the wall with one hand near his waistline. Shit. They couldn’t see the shooter’s face, only from his chest down.
“Look at the man’s body, his steady hands, after he’s killed.” Steele’s voice was low.
“No jitters, no obvious adrenaline leaks. He’s completely composed and calculated,” Michaels stated. “Not many men can do that.”
“No.” God shook his head, then looked for his husband’s hazel eyes through the mirror. “But the Devil can.”