Page 86 of Lucky's Trouble

They still don’t answer, but the one on the right gives me a subtle chin lift to where I know the asshole’s office is located.

“Thanks. My buddy, Dutch, will keep you company while we go have a chat with him.” I walk around them, shaking my head as Dutch’s voice fills the room.

“You guys have a deck of cards or a board game handy? This might take a minute.” He slaps a hand on the bar. “Please tell me you have Monopoly. It’s my favorite.”

“Goofy motherfucker,” Rigger says from behind me.

I glance over my shoulder. “You guys ready?”

With a jerk of his arm, Judge cocks his rifle. “Let’s get your girl back.”

I motion for Judge to take one side of the door and Rigger to join me on mine.

I’m not surprised when I find the door to Neal’s office locked. He no doubt heard our entrance and is hiding like the pussy he is. Rigger moves to kick it in, but I hold him back. It’s a good thing, too, because Neal opens fire through the door, bursts of light appearing in the dark hallway from the holes he created where Rigger would’ve been standing.

“Shit,” Rigger says.

Once the shooting stops, I’m quick to jump in front of the door, rear back, and send the heel of my foot into it. It swings open, bouncing off the wall and sending it forward again. I jump to the side and push it in with a hand as more bullets spray through the open doorway, hitting the wall on the other side.

“You’re outnumbered,” I call out. “Might as well give up now.”

“I called the cops. They’ll be here any minute.” Neal’s voice is shaky, making me smile.

“How stupid do you think we are?” Judge asks.

There’s not a chance in hell he wants the authorities snooping around his club, not when his primary source of income is not only morally bankrupt but illegal as fuck.

I peer around the corner, seeing the top of Neal’s head just above his desk. Aiming carefully, I shoot, hitting my mark.

“Shit,” he cries out. “You shot me.”

With a jerk of my chin, we file into the room, guns aimed.

“It’s a graze, you dumb fuck. But if you don’t drop your weapon and take a seat, I’ll do more than shoot you,” I say.

We fan out, Rigger and Judge moving to either side of the desk while I position myself right in front. There’s a thunk of something heavy hitting the carpet before two hands lift into the air. He slowly rises and takes a seat in his office chair. The steady stream of blood flowing from where I grazed his scalp pleases me, but I want more than his blood. I want to watch his head explode and chunks of brain matter hit the walls.

Judge crouches at his side, grabbing his discarded weapon and tossing it onto the sofa on the other side of the room.

“Where is she?” I ask calmly, even though that’s the very last emotion I feel.

“Who?” Taking aim, I fire again. This time, I hit his left ear, blowing out the cartilage. He cries out, briefly covering the wound before wincing and pulling his blood-soaked hand away. “Fuck you!”

“Where is she?” This time, there’s a little more edge to my tone. I’m losing patience, but I know I need to keep control to get the answers I need.

“We took her back to you. Dropped her off in front of the club.”

Judge slams the butt of his Tac into Neal’s forehead—not hard enough to knock him out, but definitely hard enough to make him see stars.

“He asked you a goddamn question,” he spits out.

Neal’s head circles around in a daze, his eyes blinking rapidly as he looks at Judge. “This kind of violence isn’t very godly.”

“Obviously, you’ve never read the Bible.”

“Last chance, asshole. Where the fuck is Tinleigh?”

“I don’t know.” He sucks in a sharp breath when I take aim. “It’s the truth. I don’t fuckin’ know. My clients don’t exactly give me their personal information before a transaction.”

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