Page 92 of Tied to You
Dean’s eyes shoot up.
“You took the drugs he wanted to show you and now we owe them money.” His face turns hard. That ice cold deadness gracing him. “They knew he’d seen us, mate. Sonny told them about our hatred for the Saviours. Once they found out Sparky isn’t exactly sympatico with them either, they put two and two together.”
“You think I killed him?”
My hand bringing the smoke to my mouth pauses. I look at Rocco. He’s looking at the table. “You didn’t? But then where is he?”
The lines on Dean’s face iron out. “You never thought to check my house?”
I look at him deadpan. “You knew I was looking for him?”
“Was pretty obvious. You asked every fucker within a ten-mile radius.”
My head falls to my balled fist. “Jesus Christ.” I lift my head. “I didn’t let them walk away from the restaurant, Dean.”
His face is back to creased. “What?” He glances at Rocco before locking a killer gaze on me.
“I killed ‘em.”
“Jesus. And the bodies?”
Is he kidding? My eyes narrow on him. “Yeah, after they gave me a beating, I sliced their throats, picked ‘em both up, carried them out, disposed of their bodies then followed the yellow brick road all the way fucking home.”
“Enough,” Rocco snaps.
“No, not enough,” I say.
His head twists to me.
“This is all on fucking, you,” I point at Dean. “But I’m yet to hear why you’ve sent us up shit’s creek without a fucking paddle.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose. Leaning forward, he rests his elbows on the table. “Elvis’ uncle is this Nathan you heard about. He’s running a pretty big drug operation further north and south.”
“How do you know?”
He takes a breath. “Because when Ididgo to get rid of Elvis,” I grind my teeth, “I saw his black eye, wondered what happened. He told me he runs county lines for his uncle, distributing, collecting, all of it. He has buyers paying out by the bucket load.”
“So you’re taking it?”
“Not exactly.”
I look between them, confused. Probably still disorientated from the pain. “I don’t follow.”
“Elvis is going to take over his uncle’s business. And we’re going to help him.”
I fear I already know the answer, but I ask my question anyway. “Why?”
“Because his uncle was beating him black and blue and he wanted a change. I can give him that whilst helping the club.” His look is one of sheer disgust, anger and pain. His past is forever present.
He went back that night to the house to do whatever the fuck he was going to. But he couldn’t. He saw himself in the kid and took pity on him. “Okay. But I still don’t understand whyus, though.”
Leaning forward, he links his fingers on the table. “We let Nathan think his nephew took off. He won’t give a shit about him, he’ll only care that hisbest roadman is no longer collecting his cash.”
“But he isn’t gone?”
He shakes his head. “No. Elvis is in possession of all the details of every buyer his uncle currently has.”
“And he’ll what? Undercut him?”
