Page 22 of King of Cruelty

I rubbed his arm, heart breaking for the pain belying his anger. “I’m sorry, Sunny. I know,” I whispered. “I know your parents tried to help people. They tried to do good and give back to their community, and seeing one of their most generous gifts being turned into a weapon against them... it hurts.”

His hands shook gripping the wheel. “They’re supposed to be our enemies. The Brotherhood is supposed to be evil shits we put down hard. But if even our partners—our friends—hate us... where do you go from there?”

My chest ached wanting to answer him, but nothing I came up with was enough. “I’m sorry. I love you.”

Sunny blew out a breath. Tossing his head, his smile returned. “I love you too, Angel. As much as this sucks, all I want to do right now is pull over and jackhammer your G-spot until you scream so loud, you break the windows.”

I heated up like a lava lamp. Sunny would be saying stuff like this on our fortieth anniversary, and my old butt will still blush.

“I can’t believe how amazing you are.” Sunny laced his fingers through mine. “I’ve been trying to find these Brotherhood bastards for months, and then you come in and find two in two days. I knew your instincts were gold.”

And now I was blushing for a different reason. My instincts were telling me something right then—Sunny and I would make it long enough to celebrate that fortieth anniversary, because I was never letting him go.

“I love your faith in me, but what are we going to do? We’re speeding over to Caddell House, but there’s no way they’re letting us through the front door,” I said. “Vance must’ve doubled security and plastered Public Enemy Numbers One and Two signs with both our faces.”

That smirk widened. “Oh ye of little faith. Security is just as much of a myth as locked doors, baby. Nothing and no one stands between me and a little bitch begging for a beating.”

My lower belly clenched deliciously. Now I was the one wanting him to pull over and jackhammer my pussy.

Soon Sole pulled into the Caddell House parking lot and we tumbled out. Bold and sexy as ever, he took my hand and strolled us both right inside, not sparing a glance either right or left at the four security guards who darted out from behind their station when we sidestepped the newly installed metal detector.

“Excuse me, sir? Sir!” A wall of muscle shot in front of us. “I’m going to need you both to step back, show me your IDs, and then step through the metal detector. If you refuse, you will be escorted out of the building.”

“Hmm. Well, I’d like to thank you for so clearly stating your needs,” Sunny said, his tone as light and sunny as ever. “Clarity is so important in these situations, which is why I’m going to return the favor.

“Tell Vance that he’s going to invite us up for our appointment, or I’m going to hold a press conference announcing to the whole world thattheJonah Caddell took a loan from gangsters to start this business—a loan that I’m fairly sure never made it on the tax form—and Caddell House has been floating said gangsters perks and kickbacks ever since.”

Sunny beamed in that reddening face. “And for every minute he keeps me waiting, I’ll add more names to drop and more careers to ruin, and I’ll start with Vance Hollywell.”

The guy raked me and Sunny up and down behind his glasses, internally weighing how much trouble he’d be in if he didn’t take us seriously.

“Wait here.”

Slipping past, he left his three buddies to watch us while he returned to his station and picked up the phone. He saidsomething in a low tone, then jerked the phone away as loud unintelligible shouts were his reply. He put the phone back and said something else, and then he returned it to its cradle.

He stomped back to us with a face he tried to keep neutral. “Mr. Hollywell is waiting for you,” he gritted. “Go on up.”

I fought a smile as we walked past four guards, a metal detector, and half a dozen staring eyes with nothing but a mild threat and a can-do attitude. Sunny was right—bodyguards were only as effective as the weak bitch cowering behind them.

GENNY

In typical me fashion, I went straight up to the cabin, kicked the door in, and started shooting.

I got two brothers in the chest before they could get their crotch-stinking fingers out of the popcorn bowl. I shot the third when he jumped off the couch, scrambling for his gun, and the fourth as he came running in from the hallway. But then the fifth ran in, and the sixth, and the seventh, and the eighth, ninth, tenth.

I ducked back out the doorway, diving on the deck as a hail of bullets flew past the frame. Taking off fast, I bolted around the corner and peeked past as those morons charged out the door.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

I dropped Tweedledee, Tweedledumb, and Tweedledickhead with one foot over the threshold. They dropped like dominoes, littering the deceptively pretty porch like the trash they were.

“Back,” someone shouted from inside. “Go out the back! Surround the bitch!”

Not a bad plan. Maybe someone in the Brotherhood did have two brain cells to rub together.

Too bad that won’t be enough.

I listened as too many heavy boots fled the front entrance and headed for the side and back doors. This place clearly wasn’t just another empty rathole. There were too many people—too many armed people—ready and waiting inside. This had to be it. The real Brotherhood headquarters.

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