Page 70 of Wrath’s Nightingale

“Chief has a cleanup crew circling the block,” Knight adds.

I hurry to Millie’s side. “Are you alright Nightingale?”

I quickly scan her for possible injuries.

“I’m better than he is,” she says with a smile, pointing to the guy on the ground.

Then continues. “I didn’t know if there would be more. That’s one of the reasons I kicked him in the balls. It’s a quick way to disable him.”

“Never be ashamed of how you protect yourself, Nightingale. If you burst a ball sack, you burst a ball sack. Your safety is top priority.”

“Are we in the clear?” Millie asks.

I look toward Trinity. He holds up one finger and pulls his phone from his back pocket, and steps away a few feet. I hear him talking but can’t make out what he says. A couple minutes later, he hangs up and gives a thumbs up.

“All clear. Trash and Screw are coming with a van to pick these rats up.”

I sweep Millie off her feet and carry her down the sidewalk toward the sled.

“I can walk.”

“I’m aware. It’s my privilege to carry you.”

“They’ll keep until morning,” Trinity yells.

I chuckle.

Chapter 44

Wrath

Islip out of bed around three-thirty in the morning. After leaving Millie a note, I head downstairs to my sled. Trinity sent me a text earlier to tell me to meet them in the cellar.

I’ve been there a few times over my years with the New Orleans chapter of the Kings. It’s at the back of their property. An old pet crematorium. It was there before they built the school. It’s a good quarter mile away from the school.

By the looks of the sleds parked out front, I’m the last to arrive. I park my sled and hurry inside. They made the old reception area into a comfortable seating area. A large screen TV Sectional with reclining ends. A pool table and small bar complete the room’s decor.

The brothers from the club were here.

Chief greets me first. “Good to see you, Wrath.”

“I’m ready to get the party started,” I say.

“Hell yeah,” Preacher says.

Preacher is Baton Rouge’s newest member. He patched over from a club in Nashville. One of Chief’s former police brethren. Has a club in Nashville. Preacher needed a change of scenery. That’s all I knew. One day, maybe he’d tell me his story.

I follow Chief as he leads us into the back room. They installed a drain in the cement floor. Off to one side is the incinerator. They have five guys strung up hanging from hooks and standing on their tiptoes. The other guy, looking deathly pale, sits with his back against the wall.

“Sentry patched him up. He’s not dying tonight unless we decide he doesn’t need to breathe anymore,” Trinity supplies.

Chief looks at us, then them.

“Have at it, boys. Loosen their lips.”

I go for the one that Millie kicked in the nads. Without a word, I begin working his body over. Using it like it’s a punching bag. I work him over for several minutes before he begs me to stop.

“Who hired you?’

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