Page 70 of At Last

21.

Duke

“Sneak, step it up,” I growl to Sneak. I got a bad feeling. The closer we get to home, the worse it’s getting. Too bad I can’t put my finger on what’s troubling me, just got that unwavering prickly feeling on the back of my neck.

I call Hero again. “You at the compound?”

“Almost there,” he answers. “Something wrong?”

I laugh into the phone. “It’s all wrong, brother. We’re almost home, too. Brief you then.” Then I hang up.

Sneak grunts his reply and then picks up speed. He turns twenty minutes into fifteen. Some of those corners coming down from the mountain are too sharp to go as fast as we want to take them. Though when we finally reach the compound, my lieutenant stops short. The gate sits wide open. Wide open, with no guard that I can see.

“What the fuck?” Boss shouts. “Wasn’t Jimmy on the gate?”

Slowly, Sneak turns in and drives through the gate, parking and shutting off the engine. We exit quietly, unsure of what we’re walking into. Could be a fucking ambush for all we know. Guns drawn, we spread out.

I see a car I don’t recognize. A little red convertible. As I make my way over, I see the back of a cut with a prospect patch and a bare ass rise up then thrust back down.

You gotta be shitting me. “Jimmy.” I bellow. His head shoots up like a groundhog popping his head out of a hole in the ground. “You better not be fucking some bitch while you’re supposed to be guarding the gate.”

The brothers hear me and come running. “You left the gate open with Houdini still on the loose?My wife and kid are here,” Boss roars. He’s got a rage film covering his eyes, the man’s out for blood as he comes at Jimmy. It takes Blood and Sneak to hold him back.

My eyes inadvertently move past Boss, just a glance over his shoulder when I notice my truck missing from the carport next to my house.

“When did my truck leave, Jimmy?”

He hems and haws for a few seconds. Now I’m losing my patience fast.

“When Jimmy?” I repeat myself. And I fuckinghateto repeat myself.

“I… I don’t know,” he finally responds, looking ten kinds of guilty.

Before I lose my shit all over him, I pull my phone from my pocket and hit Hero’s number one more time. “Prez,” he answers. First ring.

“You in my truck?”

“No.”

My hackles rise. “Doc with you?”

“No…” He draws out the o several beats. “She’s at home.”

My stomach drops. “Shit.” Then I take off running toward my home. “Drop your cut and get the fuck out.” I call over my shoulder toward Jimmy.

Boss rumbles, “Take your bitch and go. Somthin’ happens to one of our women or kids, you better fuckin’ get out the country ’cuz I’ll kill you myself.”

And then I realize Hero is still shouting in from the phone. “Prez? Prez?”

“Truck’s gone,” I reply, sharply. I’m barely aware of the wheezy engine from that crappy convertible leaving my compound in the background when my brothers join me. Including Hero who had to have booked it from the road. His tires squeal as he takes the corner onto club grounds. That’s dedication. That’s a man who’s earned his patch.

Inside, the brothers spread out, calling for Doc and Peaches, checking each room. I head to the coffee table where Doc left my laptop open. The screen is black, but I run my finger over the touchpad and it lights up.

To a confirmation page.

From a travel site.

I have to read the page twice before the words click. Ireland. Two tickets to Ireland.

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