Page 109 of Ridin' True
Even while traveling over the speed limit, it took Wrangler nearly five and a half hours to reach the cabin in Estes Park. It was a long way to go in his Tahoe, and the fact that his journey home meant another five hours closed in his cage only served to piss him off that much more.
Soon as he parked behind his brothers’ hogs, he was out of his vehicle and marching toward the cabin. Mustang stood beside the front entrance, his shoulder propped against the side of the doorframe, and did nothing to stop him as he barreled his way inside, looking for Hoffman. As soon as he spotted him, tied to a chair in the middle of the main room, Wrangler headed straight for him, his fingers already curled into a fist.
He landed three solid blows to the face before someone took hold of his arm to stop him. Wrangler glanced over his shoulder and saw Bull. The president shook his head once before he muttered, “That’s enough for now. We need him conscious.”
Wrangler didn’t realize how hard he was breathing, or how worked up he was, until he took a step back and shrugged off Bull’s hand. He raked his fingers through his hair, drew in a deep breath through his nose, then nodded as he worked to get control of himself. It was then he realized he hadn’t been the first one to lay hands on the lawyer. Wrangler likely broke his nose, but the black eye he had, and the busted lip he sported weren’t so fresh.
“Right. Gang’s all here. Let’s get this show on the road,” said Maverick.
As if he understood his fate was sealed, Hoffman didn’t put up a fight as the men escorted him to Wrangler’s SUV. They hog-tied him in the trunk, and then they were on their way.
Gabriel Alvarez’s offices were located on his compound in Laporte, Colorado. Surprise visits weren’t encouraged, and when the Stallions rolled up to the gate less than an hour later, they were stopped. At least this time, bullets weren’t flying.
A short exchange with Bull was enough to grant them access, and they were greeted outside their final destination by Alvarez’s muscle—Raphael Borrero. Wrangler was stepping out of his Tahoe as he spoke.
“You don’t have an appointment. State your business.”
Bull said nothing but turned to look back at Wrangler. That was all the cue he needed. He went to the back of his SUV, opened the hatch, and dragged Hoffman out. He landed on the ground with an unforgivingthump, and the man grunted in pain.
Borrero made his way around the Harleys to get a better look at the reason behind their visit. His face went blank when he registered who it was, and he simply nodded and said, “Right. Come with me.”
Maverick helped Wrangler free Hoffman’s feet, then all five of them trailed after Borrero. They journeyed through a maze of hallways until they reached the double doors that opened into Alvarez’s office.
“Wait here,” instructed Borrero before he granted himself access.
It wasn’t long before the door reopened. Except, it wasn’t Borrero who walked through it, but a petite blonde in a tight dress and high heels. She stopped short at the sight of the Stallions, then cleared her throat, tugged at the hem of her skirt, and smiled before walking around them. Her heels made a clicking noise that echoed off the concrete floors as she went. The sound of her cadence was still bouncing against the walls when Borrero stuck his head out and addressed Bull.
“Only two of you—and the lawyer, of course.”
No discussion was needed. Maverick and Mustang took a step back as Wrangler and Bull stepped forward—Wrangler’s hand still clasped tightly around Hoffman’s arm. Satisfied, Borrero granted them entrance.
“Bull. It’s been a while. Good to see you,” greeted Alvarez facetiously.
He didn’t move to stand from where he sat behind his desk.
Prick, thought Wrangler.
“I thought we had a deal,” said Bull instead of hello. “You mind your business, I’ll mind mine.”
“But of course. What seems to be the problem?”
“Seems you’ve been mindin’mybusiness. Though, your choice of mole was a bit asinine.”
Alvarez frowned, as if bewildered. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Hoffman, here, was on retainer for my operation up your way. As I understand it, he was free to take on new clients.”
“Don’t fuckin’ bullshit me—you had him in your pocket. He’s admitted as much.”
Alvarez hesitated a moment, glancing at Hoffman before he stood with a sigh. “Fine. I’ll admit it. I thought he’d be useful,” he said with a shrug. “Turns out, I was wrong.”
“So, what, you ordered a hit on his replacement?” spat Wrangler, unable to hold his tongue a moment longer.
Alvarez frowned, as if he found the accusation silly. “No. I had nothing to do with that.”
“There was a time I might have taken you at your word, but that time has passed. Trouble we had last summer was handled, fair and fuckin’ square. I let you have one of mine, and we walked away—nowthisis evidence of our truce?” asked Bull, nodding toward Hoffman. “Your little toy was defective, but that doesn’t mean you couldn’t use him to try to start that war you seem so keen on fightin’ with our lot.”
Alvarez's frown morphed into a scowl that Wrangler thought might have showcased genuine disbelief.
“You think Iwantto go to war with you? Bull, I’m a businessman, not a war lord. I don’t have time for that shit. Sure, I had Rocco hire him to keep an eye on you to make certain you weren’t doing anything to jeopardize my money, but as soon as you let him go, I figured you’d cottoned on, and I cut my losses. He wasn’t given me shit anyway.”
