I arrived at the club an hour later with the intent to talk King out of the plan he had for the day. Turned out his plan had already been altered. In a way none of us saw coming.

Marx had stumbled into the clubhouse an hour or so before me, almost unconscious. He’d taken a severe beating before he arrived and had lost consciousness soon after arriving. Our doctor was with him while King paced his office.

“Did you get anything out of him before he passed out?” I asked.

“No. He was delirious and raving about wanting to die. Nothing I said seemed to get through. The only thing I made out was that he was Marx.”

“You think that whoever did this to him is the guy he’s been working for?”

“Wouldn’t surprise me, brother.”

“Where does this leave us today?”

King stopped pacing. “I’m putting everything on hold until I can get Marx to talk.” His phone rang, and after checking caller ID, he said, “What’s up, Kick?”

From what I could follow, Kick was at the hospital with Evie, and it didn’t sound good. King confirmed this when the call ended. “Evie’s blood pressure has gone through the roof, so the doctors are considering delivering the baby today. He’s staying with her.”

“I’ll drop by and check in with him later.”

“Thanks.” His voice was tight. I knew he’d prefer Kick on deck, but King would never ask that of him in this situation. It was one of the things I respected the most about King—he always put family first.

The doctor knocked on the office door, and King motioned for him to enter. Closing the door behind him, he said, “Your guy took a bad beating, but he’s only suffering from broken ribs and a broken nose. He’s in a great deal of pain, though, so I’ve given him something for that. If you want to talk to him, now’s your chance, because he’ll sleep most of the day with those drugs.”

King nodded. “Thanks, Doc.”

Not wasting a second, King and I made our way to where Marx rested. His swollen eyes came to us, and he grimaced in pain.

“You able to fucking talk now?” King demanded.

Marx’s face was a wreck of bruises, cuts, and dried blood. His body didn’t look much better. I took some fucking delight in that.

“Yeah,” he croaked out.

“Took some fucking balls to show up here. Either that or you figured you were good as dead already, so you had nothing to lose. What the fuck’s going on?” King asked.

Marx’s throat must have been dry because he tried to swallow a few times.

King bent over him, a look of menace on his face. “You want some water, motherfucker?”

Marx nodded, barely, but got his message across.

King stayed bent over him, his gaze taking in Marx’s body. I couldn’t be sure, but I’d have bet that he wanted to inflict more pain on Marx.

He proved me right when he snapped back to a standing position, his crazy eyes seeking mine, and barked, “Jesus, get him some fucking water before I fucking kill him!” Looking back at Marx, he added, “And you’d better start fucking singing for your supper or else the pain you’re in will hit a whole new level that I can guarantee you won’t fucking like.”

Fear bled from Marx, and he squirmed in the bed where we had him. He blinked rapidly a few times. There was no escape for him. He’d come to us, and King would make him regret that decision if he didn’t give us what we wanted.

After I had given him some water, he mumbled, “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

My phone sounded with a call, but I ignored it. Whoever it was could wait.

King pulled up a chair next to the bed and sat. “Who the fuck do you work for?”

Marx pulled a face. “That’s the one thing I don’t know.”

King was up and out of that chair faster than Marx could blink. “Don’t fucking lie to me!” he roared.

Marx shrunk from him. “I’m not! I honestly don’t know who he is. We never met.”

King gripped Marx’s chin and squeezed hard, raining a new round of pain down on him. “Tell. Me.”

Marx thrashed on the bed, legs and arms trying to fight King. I quickly stepped in and held his legs down while King threatened him again. “You don’t start talking now, I’m gonna start removing body parts.”

“He sent different people each time,” Marx managed to get out between deep gasps for air. “We met in different places, too. There was no pattern to it.” He gasped again when King tightened his grip. “I swear! He told me I would never know because that wasn’t how he worked. No one knew who he was.”

That made King stop. Letting Marx’s chin go, he demanded, “How did he make first contact with you? How the fuck did he know you? And what did he offer you?”

Marx nodded madly, tears streaming down his face. “I’ll tell you! I swear I’ll tell you everything.” Another gasp for air and then—“I don’t know how he found me, but the first time I heard from him, he called me. Well, I don’t think it was him. I think it was his main guy.”

“What the fuck do you mean by his main guy?” I asked, ignoring another call coming from my phone in my pocket.

“I met a lot of different men, but there was this one guy who seemed to be in charge. He was the one I always spoke with on the phone. And then they sent others to drop off drugs and collect cash.”

King planted his feet wide and settled his arms across his chest. “How do you know the one on the phone wasn’t the man you were working for?”

“By what he said.”

“Fuck, spit it out, Marx. What did he say?” I asked.

“He always told me that his boss would be happy with my work.” He paused. “Until today.”

“What did you do today?” I asked. King remained eerily silent while he took everything in.

My phone rang again. I ignored it, again. We’d be done here soon enough; I’d check it then.

“I dropped off cash to one of their men early this morning, and I followed him, trying to get to the boss. They must have been following him, too, because I didn’t get far before they got to me.”

King dropped his arms. “So they left you for dead. How the fuck did you get here?”

Marx shook his head slightly. “They didn’t leave me there. They brought me here. Opened their car door and dumped me out the front as they drove by.”

King’s eyes met mine, and I knew we had the same thought. “I’m on it,” I called out over my shoulder as I exited the room.

I jogged down the hallway to the room where we ran surveillance. Finding Nitro there, I said, “We need to pull footage of the front of the club from just over an hour ago.”

“What are we looking for?”

“The car that dumped Marx out the front.”

He whistled low. “Surely they’re smarter than that.”

“You’d think so, but we need that number plate either way.”

Ten minutes later, I had Bronze on the phone. I’d given him the number plate to run. And then I asked, “Any word on Sully yet?”

“Nothing. I’m still looking,” he said, causing my gut to tighten.

“Thanks, Bronze.” I ended the call and tried to push thoughts of what had happened to Sully from my mind. I wasn’t ready to admit my gut feel for the matter. Not yet. I still held hope that he’d show up.

I noticed the missed calls I’d had were from Charlie and was about to call her back when King entered the surveillance room, distracting me.

“Bronze on to it?” he asked.

Both Nitro’s gaze and mine dropped to King’s hands. Blood covered them. “Fuck, King,” I muttered, meeting his eyes again. “What did you do?” Surely he hadn’t killed Marx. I was convinced there was more information to get out of him still.

The murderous energy surrounding him filled the tiny room. There was no mistaking how wired he was for death. “He’s still breathing if that’s what you want to know.”

Nitro’s brows raised. “You just had a little fun with him?”

“Let’s just say that he won’t be walking anywhere in a hurry.”

“You cut his foot off?” I asked.

King scowled. “Fuck, Hyde, I’m not that fucking stupid.” King’s mouth twisted into the kind of smile that let you know he derived great—possibly, insane—pleasure from whatever he did. “I broke his leg so he couldn’t go anywhere.”

“Good move,” Devil said from the doorway. “That asshole deserves it.”

My phone rang yet again. This time I answered it. “Monroe. I’m in the middle of something. You okay?”

Monroe’s voice filtered down the line. It was filled with concern. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but Charlie’s just been taken to hospital by ambulance. She fell at your place and hurt her arm.”

Fuck. I’d ignored Charlie’s calls.

Every fatherly instinct I possessed kicked in. “Which hospital? And where was Tenille?”

“Calm down, tiger. She’s okay. I don’t know where Tenille is. Charlie said she tried to call you, but you didn’t answer, so in the end she called Bree. And Bree called me.”

She gave me all the details and told me she was on her way there, putting my mind at ease a little.

King narrowed his eyes at me. “Everything okay, brother?”

I blew out a long breath. “No. My kid’s in the hospital.”

He jerked his chin at me. “Go see her.”

“You good here?” Not that I wouldn’t go to Charlie straight away, but I needed to know where we were with the club.

He nodded. “Yeah. I’m gonna wait for Bronze to get back to me and then make plans from there. We’ll be sitting tight until then.”

Five minutes later, I was on my way to the hospital. My gut churned with worry for Charlie. I knew it was an overreaction, because a broken bone, if that’s what it was, could be fixed. But I hadn’t answered her calls, and I was pissed off at myself for putting her in a situation where neither parent was there for her.