This shit was too close for comfort. I wasn't gonna be content stripping out the carpet and dumping this fucker off in a cement grave.
It couldn't happen again. Ever.
I'd wire the house up with cameras, wires, and alarms galore, install bullet proof glass if I fucking had to.
What would've happened if the cartel man hadn't listened to his higher ups? What if he'd slit my girl's throat before I even got here, or walked to my sleeping son's crib?
All the bloody, pitch black possibilities flashed in my mind. They gave me a rage like nothing else, and an energy like I was on cocaine, espresso, and that yerba mate shit all at once.
Asphalt and Southpaw showed up in minutes to deal with the body. I stood by growling orders at the prospects, taking my tools and stripping up the bloodied carpet myself. Good thing half the guys in this club had some carpentry experience.
We never had to rely on outsiders, thank fuck.
Loose lips always sink ships, and the club had almost struck an iceberg over the years. Covering our tracks the right way and keeping as much talent as we could in-house went a long way toward keeping our asses outta prison.
Fuck, prison. I'd never go back. Just like I'd never allow another armed man to come in here and threaten my family.
It took all night to finish the job, working non-stop. When Southpaw and Asphalt finally came home from dumping off the Mexican's carcass, they looked at me like I'd lost my fucking mind, stapling shit in place like I was a mad man.
“Christ, brother. Settle the fuck down before you have a heart attack. You realize we can all help wire this place up in a couple more days?”
“No!” I pointed my finger like a dagger at Asphalt. “Truce or no truce, I don't trust the cartel motherfuckers 'til every last one of 'ems gone. This shit almost went rotten because their own right hand didn't know what the left was doing. I'm not risking my old lady and my kid again. You can either help or keep your damned mouth shut.”
Asphalt clenched his jaw, but he didn't bark back. He marched up and got to work, helping me run wire over all the doors, perfect for installing the new security cams the prospects picked up at a twenty-four hour department store.
Everything human leaves a man when his family's under the gun. It was like I had a goddamned second sun burning in my guts, turning my blood to pure fire, hellbound to finish the job so she never, ever had to worry again.
'Course, Sally's trigger finger just might've saved my ass in the end too. But she'd also put herself in harm's way, and I'd be a dead man before I ever let that happen again.
We worked like dogs past sunup. When we were close to finished, I got the call, and so did the rest of the brothers. We needed to get to the clubhouse by eleven.
Just enough time to test the shit. It all worked, minus a few finishing touches, and I'd polish that off later. There was also time to make a quick stop by Brass and Missy's place.
I rode in, parked my bike, and knocked on the door. The Veep let me in, and nodded.
“Hurry up. It took my girl half the night to calm her down. Fucking shit, Roman, you realize you almost wound up like those poor bastards who get themselves shot after the war's technically over?”
“He broke into my house. He threatened my girl. You wanna give me any shit about the truce, Veep, then that's on you. I'd have blown his fucking brains out if Sally hadn't beat me to it.”
He shook his head. “No, brother. You made the right call. Truce wasn't official 'til this morning. The cartel's not gonna do shit about a missing grunt as long as they've got their golden boy back.”
I stepped into the house as he walked off into the kitchen. I found her sleeping on a fold out sofa, baby in her arms, both of 'em making soft, peaceful sounds.
Sitting on the sofa, I stretched out, wrapping one hand around her shoulder and pulling her tight. The movement caused her eyes to open.
“You're here!” She whispered. “Is it safe to go home yet?”
“Soon, babe. I'm gonna ask you to put 'til we know this thing's locked down with the cartel. I'll be welcoming you home in the evening to see a few home improvements?”
She cocked her head. “God. Don't tell me you've thrown up barbed wire in the yard or something.”
“Just cameras and some really earsplitting burglar alarms. Trust me, woman, nobody's ever getting in our home again. Knowing it happened once makes me fucking sick.”
It really did. My guts churned, but what I really meant was sick in the head. Dismembering anybody who actually hurt her or Caleb crowded by head, alongside a thousand other tortures I'd inflict on the twisted fuckers.
“It's all over, isn't it? I can't believe it.” She sighed. “I'll have to help Norm back to the farm next week. He's going to need a lot of help while he gets back on his feet.”