Page 41 of Drifter
I murmur my thanks and leave them alone.
Three thirty in the morning…
“He’s walking out of the precinct now,” Motown’s low, gruff voice rumbles in my ear. “Grabbing him before he gets to his ride.”
“Right.” I glance up at Hawk, who reads me clearly.
“We’re moving out,” Hawk says to Guard. Guard nods. He’s been filled in on what our next step is going to be.
“Location?” Motown asks. I can hear his footsteps on the pavement.
“The cabin,” I tell him. Hawk decided earlier that the cabin is far enough away from the town and the cops, and has no ties to the club, so it’s a safe enough place to get the job done.
“See you there, brother.” Motown disconnects. Hawk is waiting for me at the door. Flex, Shooter, and Decker are already out the door.
“Finish it, Drifter,” Guard says behind me. I look over my shoulder at him. “Make her safe.” Then he adds, “There’s a conflict for you, I know. You’re meant to save lives, but when it’s your woman, the rules don’t apply.”
Five in the morning…
He threatened us, which was a big mistake because Hawk doesn’t take kindly to a pedophile swearing and trying to intimidate us. What a joke. Sutton is tied to the chair, with a hood over his head, and he still thinks he’s untouchable.
Hawk loses his patience, rips off his hood, and socks him right in the mouth. The doctor is dazed and confused, but when he finally focuses, his stunned expression turns to fear. Being surrounded by a bunch of bikers is scary enough, and then he sees me. Fear turns to terror.
“What do you want? Money?” Sutton stutters. His eyes shift from me to Hawk. When he doesn’t get a response, he turns to the other guys. “I can get you all the drugs you want,” he blathers. “I have friends in pharmaceutical companies. It’s good stuff.”
“We don’t want that shit,” Decker spits out with disgust.
“What do you want with me?” he asks, quickly adding, “I’m not involved with Gordon’s nasty business. Ask the police. They released me. I’m innocent.”
“You call nearly raping a sixteen-year-old girl on her birthday innocent?” I growl in a sinister tone. “You fucking stalked Sasha for years, waiting for just the right moment to strike, just like the snake you are.”
“No! No!” he shouts, shaking his head wildly from side to side. “Sasha’s like a daughter to me. I’d never?—”
I cut him off with another fist to his face, his head rattled by the sheer force of the blow. “Shut up! I won’t put up with your lies. She told me how you looked at her. She felt it, even as a kid. She avoided you, made excuses not to be around when you came over. But you found just what you needed for leverage, didn’t you?” I pause, tilting my head and watching him squirm. “You knew her father was dirty, and he caved because his precious business was more important than his daughter.”
“I made a mistake. I was wrong. I’m human, okay? I was weak. She was so sweet and innocent. I couldn’t help myself. I’ll make it up to Sasha. I swear.”
“You think I’m gonna buy what you’re shoveling?” I’m fucking furious. He admitted to wanting my Sasha and taking advantage of her, and he thinks I’m going to let this go? He’s fucking insane. “What would have happened that night if Simon hadn’t come in when he did?”
“Nothing—” he starts.
My rage gets the best of me, and I plunge a knife into his thigh. Sutton screams out in pain, perspiration on his brow. He begs and pleads for mercy.
“Sasha begged and pleaded for you to stop, and you hit her, threw her on her bed, and were ready to force yourself on her when Simon found you. Gordon should have let him kill you then. But you knew something no one else did, and that gave you the edge you needed to find ways to get close to Sasha again. You didn’t count on Simon being her shadow, did you? You didn’t count on me,” I state with menace oozing from every word.
“Please. I’m begging you. I’ll give you anything you want.”
“I don’t need a damn thing from you. I have what I need.”
“Drifter,” Hawk calls me, tapping his watch. We’re on a timeline and need to get this finished. I take a few steps toward the door, then turn suddenly and put a bullet between Sutton’s eyes.
“Good shot. Just like the Russians would finish him off,” Motown says. “I’ll make it look like torture, then dump the body where the Russians will find him.”
I hand Motown the flash drive with even more details on the Russian sex-trade operation. They’ll plant it on the body for them to find. The Russians will be satisfied that one of their own killed the informant to the feds. There’s nothing to link us to Gordon’s arrest, but giving the Russians a confirmed rat is tying up loose ends. And it gets rid of the man who made Sasha’s life hell.
Dr. Edgar Sutton is no more.
Chapter 22
