Page 96 of Broken Pact

He regards me for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he nods, clapping a hand on my shoulder. “Whatever you say, man. You let me know if it becomes a problem, yeah?”

I nod and drag my hands through my hair and tip my face toward the ceiling. “Goddamnit,” I breathe out, trying to exhale the anger boiling in my blood. I look at Hawke, clocking the concern etched in his low brows. “Speaking of problems, tell me there’s an update on those assholes.”

He palms the back of his neck. “Yeah, man, I found ’em. But maybe we should wait another day, yeah?”

“Nah. I’m not going to let those motherfuckers walk around unchecked. I’m in the mood to fuckin’ ruin someone’s day, maybe even their life. So, let’s go pay them a visit.”

“You got a plan or you flyin’ blind? I’m in either way, but I like to know what I’m getting myself into.”

I cross the garage and grab a heavy duty wrench off the workbench. “Yeah, I got a fucking plan.”

Hawke’s brows rise as he regards me. “So it’s gonna be like that then? What about the garage today?”

The still image of Coraline slumped over after that motherfucker backhanded her flashes before my eyes, and I squeeze my fist around the wrench.

“You wanna work on Mr. Thompson’s car, or you wanna go fuck up a couple of wannabe gangsters who don’t know how to keep their hands to themselves?”

Hawke’s eyes light up with a dangerous gleam. “You know I’m always down for a little extracurricular activity.”

I heft the wrench over my shoulder. “Good. Let’s go remind these pricks why it’s a bad idea to touch what’s mine.”

“God, I love a teachable moment,” Hawke muses.

We find Chad Fell and Ernie Slater loitering outside some rundown bar in the outskirts of Avalon Falls. They start running when they see our bikes, but lucky for everyone, there’s nowhere to run.

Hawke and I corner them in an alleyway, the rumble of our engines echoing off the brick walls on either side of us. I cut the engine and swing my leg over, grabbing the wrench out of my saddlebag. The weight feels good, solid and reassuring.

The alley stinks of piss and stale beer, the dumpsters overflowing with trash bags and broken glass. Sweat beads on the back of my neck, the summer heat oppressive even in the shade.

It’s the kind of place that goes overlooked in a town, rundown and largely forgotten. The perfect place to teach a couple of dirtbags a lesson.

Fell and Slater back up against the brick wall behind them, their eyes wide with fear but their chests puffed out in misguided intimidation.

“Yo, we don’t want any trouble,” Slater says, jerking his chin high.

“Bummer, bro. Because that’s all we’re here for,” Hawke replies with entirely too much enthusiasm.

I smirk and saunter toward them, the wrench resting casually on my shoulder. ”Funny you should say that, considering you two had no problem causing trouble for my girl the other night.”

Slater and Fell exchange an uneasy glance, beads of sweat dotting their foreheads. “Your girl?”

“Five and a half feet, dark hair, stunning. Owns a bakery downtown,” I supply.

"Hey man, we didn't know she was with the Reapers," Fell stammers out, his voice pitching high with barely concealed panic.

He should be fucking panicked.

I stop a few feet in front of them, tilting my head as I regard Fell coolly. “Doesn’t matter if she’s with Reapers or not. You don’t ever put your hands on a woman like that unless you’re willing to lose them.”

Fell spits on the ground next to him. “Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, Reaper.”

“Tell me something,” I start, pacing a few feet in front of them. “Did Falcone give the order to hurt my girl, or was that something you two idiots came up with all on your own?”

They exchange a look, fear and uncertainty flickering across their faces.

"Look man, we were just following orders," Slater says, holding his hands up in a placating gesture. "Falcone said to send a message."

My grip tightens on the wrench, anger pulsing hot through my veins. “What business does he have with my girl?”

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