Chapter 14

At my funeral I would like there to be a piñata so they can be happy. But not too happy. To ensure that, I want the piñata to be filled with bees.

-Meme

Wolf

“What is that supposed to be?” Peek asked, looking down at the man who’d been in my truck’s bed for twenty-four hours straight now.

Lucky for me, but bad for him, I’d thrown him down on top of the tarp before I’d tied him down to the bed.

I didn’t want his piss and shit all over the bed of my truck. I sure as fuck didn’t need his blood, either.

The piss he’d relieved himself of was pooling in a wet puddle around the entire length of his body, and if the strained look on his face was anything to go by, he likely had to relieve himself further…and not just of piss.

“How do you like having piss in your hair?” Peek asked the man, prodding him with the shovel that I had in the back of the truck. “Do you want to stay there until you die of dehydration, or would you like to start fucking talking?”

The man tightened his lips even further.

It wasn’t until I lost patience and picked up the shovel that he finally started to look afraid…as he should be.

“Tell me now, or I’ll relieve you of a kneecap,” I said through clenched teeth.

Peek’s hand came down on my shoulder, but with the man deliberately spitting at me, the large wad of spit barely missing me, I realized then that whatever tactic we were hoping to employ weren’t going to work on this man.

He needed a much more succinct understanding of what would happen if he didn’t cooperate.

Hurtling myself up over the edge of the truck, I took the shovel in two hands and swiftly brought the flat part of it down on the man’s kneecap.

It broke with a loud pop, and I was left wondering just how loud he could scream with the gag on.

The instant the heavy metal of the shovel met with the guy’s kneecap, the bone shattered, and he writhed in pain.

“Gross,” Mig said. “He’s sloshing his piss all over the bed of your truck.”

Mig took a step back, and I went back around the side of the truck, accidentally stepping on the man’s hand as I made it over to where I could jump down out of the truck.

The man rolled and tried to take me out at the knees. And he would have, had I been someone else who was not aware of what a guy like him, a guy in his position, might do.

I wasn’t stupid, and I sure as hell wasn’t born yesterday. I know when someone’s being deliberately quiet to try and buy time.

This guy, though, was a fuckin’ pro.

It amazed me that he’d been able to lie still and wait for his chance.

Using the shovel as leverage, I lifted my feet and kicked out, knocking the man in the jaw with one booted foot.

I pulled the kick at the last moment, being sure not to knock him out completely. I only wanted to stun him. To let him know that this shit was serious business.

“You look like you’re a little too pissed to handle this right now, Wolf,” Peek supplied.

I shot him a look and straightened.

Then, without removing my eyes from Peek’s, I slammed the flat blade of the shovel against the man’s knee.

The man screamed and started to vomit, his gag keeping most of it inside.

“You might want to swallow that so you don’t aspirate it,” I offered the man my thoughts. “Can’t have you dying just yet.”

“He’s pretty fuckin’ good at taking this torture he’s been given over the last hour,” Griffin said as he arrived at the party. “And you haven’t gotten him to say a damn thing?”

I shook my head. “Not one single thing. He’s closed up tight.”

Sirens started from a far distance away, and I grinned.

Taking one last look at the man, I reared back and brought my steel-toed boot to his temple, knocking him out completely. Likely for quite a while.

“What was that for?” Ridley yawned, seemingly uninterested in the happenings here.

“What’s up with you?” I asked him.

“The woman’s keeping me up with her barfing,” he yawned. “Couldn’t fucking sleep a goddamn wink with her moaning.”

We all stared at Ridley like he’d grown a second head.

“Your woman’s pregnant,” I finally said. “What exactly did you expect to happen?”

Ridley shrugged.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I thought it would be an easy pregnancy. Not…this,” he settled with. “It’s… it’s… this is fucking exhausting.”

Every last one of us started to laugh.

Jumping out of the truck, I pulled the rolled up bed cover down from the back of the cab, and rolled it all the way down until it covered the entirety of the cab and all its contents, including the now unconscious man.

I’d just locked it with a key that I then gave to Peek when the first police car arrived on scene.

“Unmarked,” Ridley observed as he watched the cars pull up to the very back of the truck and stop within a few inches of taking us out.

None of us moved.

Not one of us.

I’d just decided that maybe these fuckers in their unmarked cars needed a little driving lesson when the man I’d been wondering about folded out of the car.

Crazy eyes like Xavier described and all.

“You have one of our agents,” the man said with such disdain that I had to check the urge to smile.

“Not sure what you’re talking about,” I said, standing up straight from my position of leaning against the truck.

The man’s eyes narrowed.

“Can I help you?” Ridley asked, pulling his sheriff’s hat on and walking toward the man.

“No,” the man said.

“Well then, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. This is private property,” Ridley’s authoritative voice brooked no room for argument, and I had to bite the inside of my lip to keep the laugh from bursting free of my lungs.

I looked around at the parking lot we were standing in.

Sure, it was outside the clubhouse, but it was still off of a public street and everybody knew it.

The man’s temper started to fray.

“I’m missing an agent,” he said. “And you’re fucking with my investigation.”

“Then I’ll have to be informed of who it is you’re looking for, as well as what investigation you’re working on,” Ridley said pleasantly.

Griffin took his hat off his head, forked his fingers through his hair so it lay flat, and then replaced the hat.

The movement wasn’t one of nervousness. No, it was one of effectiveness and knowing when a situation is about to turn bad.

The move had Griffin’s hands free of the truck, and now where they were resting on his hips, mere inches away from the gun at his side rather than on top of the truck where any swift movement would be immediately noticed.

Mig and I did much the same, positioning ourselves so that we not only had each other’s backs, but so that we also had access to our side arms as well.

“Josh,” another man came out from behind the man. “Our GPS tracking info has the beacon within a mile of this address.”

“Josh Fry, is it?” I asked with a deceptive calm.

Fry smiled.

“Agent Josh Fry. FBI,” he didn’t offer his hand and neither did I.

“Interesting,” I said, crossing my arms behind my back. “How’s it going?”

Josh Fry gave me a look that clearly suggested what he thought of my ridiculous question.

I’d only learned just today that this Josh Fry man was an agent for the FBI.

I’d also learned today that he’s served four years in the Army including a tour of duty in Iraq. I’d also learned that none other than Jensen, the man responsible for making Raven’s life a living hell for months on end, had been there with him during his brief military career. How convenient for them.

“What are you doing here, Agent Fry?” Ridley asked again, cutting into my thoughts.

Thankfully.

Who the hell knew where those thoughts would have led had I not been interrupted.

“I’m in the middle of a classified investigation, and I need my agent back,” he said, not giving us a thing. “He’s been missing for a little over 24 hours.”

“Interesting,” I found myself saying.

The man’s eyes cut to me, and I could actually feel the anger brewing in those freakishly odd eyes.

“What’s interesting?” the man snapped.

“It’s interesting that this supposedly missing man’s GPS is leading you to private land,” I said conversationally, my eyes focusing solely on the lying piece of shit in front of me.

Luckily, the man currently occupying the bed of my truck didn’t seem to want to hurt Nathan—at least not too much—and that proved to be his fatal mistake.

At the time, Nathan had been my main concern. My mind was solely focused on protecting my son, and nothing else.

I pushed Nathan underneath the truck, forcefully telling him to stay put as I also rolled under it and over to the other side, taking the man out with a brutal kick to the ankle that had broken it.

With the guy now down, I delivered a roundhouse kick to his face that knocked him out. Then I was able to pull Nathan out from under the truck and rock him until he fell asleep.

“Funny,” Agent Fry said, a sickeningly sweet hint to his voice that set my teeth on edge. “The last time I studied a map of this area, this road leads to a public boat ramp. So there’s a lot of traffic. Seems to me, if he was just taking a look-see at the lake, it would be fair of him to be on this road.”

He was right.

The road was a cut through to the public boat ramp. But, with all of the flooding, the boat ramp was under water and most of the parking lot was also.

I gritted my teeth and brought my hand up to my face to scratch my beard, my eyes studying the man and his goons at his back.

Xavier’s description of the man paying him to hack into everyone’s lives fit this guy to a T. Sharp angular cheekbones, curly brown hair, freakishly blue eyes. About five foot ten with his boots on…with them off he’d be about five eight.

The goon at his side looked more authoritative than he did, and I knew in that instant that Josh Fry had a bigger enemy than me.

The man at his side wasn’t even trying to hide it.

He wanted me to know that I had an ally on the inside.

His fingers flashed at his side. Fist. Two fingers. One finger. Fist. Fist.

I moved my gaze back to Fry and nodded.

His hand flashed again, and I clenched my fist.

He wanted to meet tonight at 2100. Nine O’clock.

I didn’t worry about where. I knew he’d find me.

“I’ll need to search the property to find my man,” Fry continued, not knowing that something pivotal had just happened. “Don’t make me get a warrant.”

“You’re getting a warrant to search,” I told him bluntly. “I know how your kind operates.”

Fry’s face darkened.

I smiled.

“Fine,” he said, crossing his arms. “We’ll get our warrant.”

Yeah, he would. He’d be back.

There’d be no sign of his agent here, though, when he returned with said search warrant.