Page 163 of Monster

“You gave him your million-dollar business, didn’t you? And now you’re telling me you have nothing to do with him?”

Anger flashed in the older man’s eyes, and the woman turned away from me.

“We didn’t give it to him,” he said. “He forced our hands. Him and hisfriends.”

“You mean Sonny?” I asked. The man nodded and wrapped his arms tightly around his wife.

“Where does he live?”

The man hesitated.

“Tell me. And tell me the truth because if I find out you wasted my time with a fucking lie, I’m gonna come back. And I’m gonna come back pissed. We both don’t want that.”

“And if I tell you, you’ll leave us alone?”

I nodded. Looking at the man, it was clear that there was no lost love between him and his son. It worked well in my favor, considering there was no record of where the fuck John Moore resided.

It made me wonder why he didn’t want people to know where he lived.

The woman grasped the man’s arms, looking up at him. I had a feeling she still loved and cared for her son.

The man shook his head. “It’s him or us, and you know that, Susan.”

Susan looked down, her eyes filled with tears. I couldn’t give two fucks about her feelings, but it was wasting my time. I pulled out my gun and aimed at them. I didn’t want to fucking resort to this. I could understand wanting to protect your kid, but their kid messed up.

He fucked with the woman I loved.

John Sr. saw me first and tried to shield his wife’s body.

“Okay, we’ll tell you,” he said. “We don’t know if he’s still there. It’s been over a year since we’ve spoken.”

I looked at him expectantly. “Write it down.”

* * *

The bastard livedon a remote property that I was sure was owned by the Sons of War.

It made things easier for me, considering there wouldn’t be any potential witnesses around to put me at the scene when they found his body.

And hopefully, I would have time for a little fun, and maybe get some information out of him about the fucking Sons of War and the traitors, though I didn’t plan on it. I doubted he knew a lot about the club’s business since he was still considered an outsider, even if he was working as a fucking accountant for them.

Micah and I parked about a block away from his house, not wanting our bikes to draw attention. I couldn’t have him leave before I could get to him, or—if he wasn’t home—see our bikes and get spooked.

We walked for about ten minutes before approaching a large house surrounded by nothing but desert land.

We shared a look.

“I’m gonna go in. Can you look around the property?” I asked. Micah nodded, and I walked up to the back door.

I peered through the windows for any movement, and when I didn’t see anything, I picked the lock for the back door, and walked into the empty, messy house.

It was littered with takeout containers filling up the trash can, and the ones on top appeared to be recent.

I walked around, careful not to touch anything, and came to an office downstairs.

This room was a little better. Not as disorganized.

I went to the desk that was covered with papers, along with a computer.

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