Page 8 of Wick
Slowly the guy makes his way fully into the house with Kostas and his second guard following behind. Kostas himself makes an ill-fated mistake by opening his mouth. "It would be wise of you and your friends to walk away now." No sooner does the threat leave his mouth when the butt of my pistol comes down on the side of his face, the blow causing his brow to split open and blood to gush from the wound. Riggs is the next to speak.
"You seem to think you have a say in what goes on in my town. And you have a big set of balls thinkin' you can talk shit and spew orders, motherfucker." By this point Prez has stood from his seat and stepped directly in front of Kostas. "You failed to heed my warning the first time you had your peddlers pushing drugs in my bar. Then tonight a man dies from an overdose in Twisted Throttle's bathroom. Now, I'm tellin' you face to face that your operation here in New Orleans is shut down effective immediately."
Kostas chuckles. "You and your club are pussies. You're a bunch of do-gooder bikers who pretend you have control over this city. New Orleans belongs to me now." Kostas stops talking long enough to make his second biggest mistake of the night. One I know is about to cost him his life. He spits on the top of Riggs' boot. I notice the tick in my brother's jaw and the twitch of his trigger finger; two signs that tell me how this night is going to end. I keep my gun aimed at the guy standing to Kostas's right. Kiwi swiftly makes his way to my side, and aims his piece at the man as well. In a blink of an eye, Riggs makes his move by pulling his gun from the inside of his cut, places the barrel to the front of Kostas's forehead and pulls the trigger. Blood and brain matter paint the front door behind him. When the fucker in front of me gets a look on his face that says he's thinking about doing something stupid to avenge his former boss, I step forward separating the distance between us and press my gun against his temple. "You prepared to meet your maker today, motherfucker?" The guy's Adam's apple bobs when he swallows and shakes his head no.
Looking around the room at the rest of Kostas's goons, I ask, "do we have a problem here?"
Everyone shakes their heads. Satisfied with their answers, I turn to Riggs and nod. "Prez."
Riggs eyes the dead man on the floor then the shit heads sitting on the sofa. "The five of you have until sunup to spread the word about your boss then get the fuck out of New Orleans."
A few hours later, I'm sitting in Riggs' office at the clubhouse. It's just past 5:00 am when Kiwi, Fender, and Nova come strolling in. "Is it done?" Riggs asks.
"All taken care of, Prez," Fender says taking a seat in the chair next to me while Nova and Kiwi plop down on the sofa.
I ask the next question. "They leave town?"
"Sure did," Kiwi chuckles. "They lit out of here like their arses were on fire. Fuckin' pussies."
"And the other?" I continue.
Kiwi's face turns serious before he nods. "Taken care of."
Prez had instructed Kiwi and Nova to hit up the other two drop houses Kostas was using to peddle his drugs and confiscate any money found. We also found out where Kostas was living and found a fuck ton of cash in a safe there. The payment was then dropped off anonymously at the parents' house of the young man who died from the overdose. It turns out the kid was a law student who had become addicted to speed then later graduated to the harder stuff. It's a goddamn shame how easily that shit can be obtained. Hopefully now with Kostas off the streets of New Orleans we can avoid another life gone too soon.
Once my brothers have taken their leave, I stand from my seat. "Need anything else from me, Prez? I'm going to head home and try to get a couple of hours of sleep. You still need me to open the bar tonight?"
"Yeah, brother, if ya don't mind. I have plans with Luna."
"You got it." I give him a chin lift. As I'm walking out of his office, Riggs stops me.
"Malik?"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks for having my six back there."
"Always, brother."
Chapter Four
Tequila
"Ugh."
I am not a morning person.
The piercing sound of my alarm has me knocking the clock from the box crate sitting beside the cot I had the luxury of sleeping on last night. Lying on my stomach, I mumble incoherently into the pillow. The smell of strong, freshly brewed coffee coaxes my eyelids open.
"Rise and shine, sugar," Cowboy says with a Texas draw strong enough to drop panties yet does nothing to quench my thirst. Only one man has that much control over me.
Rolling onto my side, I proceed to sit on the edge of my cot and take the steaming mug from Cowboy's outstretched arm. "You're the best." I take a sip and look through my lashes to find him wearing a devilish grin that only Cowboy could get away with.
"That's what I've been told." He says with confidence. All I can do is smile and shake my head. "Let's shit and git', Wilder. The rest of us are geared up." He looks down at his watch. "Roll out in ten, soldier."
Less than ten minutes later, I have my gear packed, and I'm ready to go. It's a thirty-minute drive to a secure location, on private property, where we roll up to a modest-sized hanger. As we exit the SUV, the hanger doors begin to open, and a small jeep tows the evac helicopter I'll be flying. "How the fuck did you get your hands on one of these?" I question in astonishment as I take her in. I make a complete walk around the aircraft before coming to stand next to my comrades who are loading the necessary supplies.
"The government wants this guy." Scott pats the side panel where he is standing. "It's on loan until we complete the mission. Along with the cash payout you each will receive. It's all part of the package. Once the mission is completed, it's ours."
