Page 35 of Under The Greek's Protection

“Up there,” Alistair shouts. His big body is between the driver and passenger seats as he points to smoke.

Sure enough, it’s the black car with smoke coming from the hood. My people must’ve hit something in the engine, because it’s barely picking up speed. Hitting the speed dial, I call Hendrix. When he answers, I tell him, “We’re going to get in front of this asshole and you stay behind him. Make sure you leave no room for him to escape. We’ll keep him pent in until we’re able to snatch his ass out. Got it?”

“Got it, boss,” Hendrix replies before I disconnect.

After hearing my orders, Xander moves into the left lane, passing the car, then cuts in front of it. He slows down, making the car tailgate us. Looking out of the sideview mirror, Hendrix is on the car's bumper.

“I don’t see that asshole,” Alistair states. I turn in my seat. He’s looking out the back window, and even though Xander has a dark tint, only the driver can be seen.

“You think he might’ve jumped out,” Xander questions.

“I don’t know, but we're about to find out.” I take a quick look around. “Traffic has died down. Throw your signal light on to let Hendrix know we’re about to make this pussy pull over to the side of that vacant donut shop.” I point to the boarded up building.

Xander puts on his signal, then slows to a snail’s pace causing the car to bump us from behind, as Hendrix pins the car with his front bumper. The car's motor revs as we force it off the road. Once out of traffic, Xander throw’s the vehicle in park, then uses his foot to press down on the emergency brake.

Unholstering my pistol, I cautiously open my door. Through the side mirror, I see Frankie getting out, with his pistol to his side as he creeps up from behind.

Once out, we walk up to the car.

“It was just a job! It was just a job,” someone screams from the inside. “Please help, we need an ambulance!”

When I reach the passenger side, Trent is leaning over in the seat with his hands raised. He has a gunshot wound to his abdomen and shoulder. The driver has one on his side.

“What a fucked position you have found yourself in, Trent,” I taunt, pointing my gun at him.

Trent shakes his hands. “Wait, I’m not Trent! I’m not Trent.”

“Let me shoot this bitch right now, Zar,” Alistair growls, aiming his gun.

“Please, I swear, I’m not Trent. He paid me a lot of money to have surgery to look like him. I had gambling debts, so I jumped on the offer,” fake Trent tries to explain.

Reaching through the window, I grab his shirt pulling him to me, then knock him out with the butt of my gun. Hendrix does the same to the driver.

“Frankie, Hendrix, get them out, and tie their asses up. We’re taking them to the club,” I state, putting my gun away. I don’t know what kind of game Trent is trying to play, but I’m about to get to the bottom of it.

“Ahhhh,” fake Trent yells, as Alistair snips off his pinky finger.

We’ve been in the cellar of the club for the last forty-five minutes. While Hendrix and Frankie were tying these two assholes up, and throwing them in the back of the SUV, Alistair and Xander searched the car, looking for anything we could use. They found nothing but the car’s registration, which we found out is owned by the driver, after taking their wallets and phones.

While riding to the club, I went through fake Trent’s phone, and found a number with the name Boss attached to it. I knew it had to be Trent’s because when I checked his call log, the name appeared several times. I immediately called Tech and gave him the number, asking him to put a trace on it.

Once at the club, the two idiots were drug down here, and stripped of their clothes. They were placed in chairs before their arms and legs were tied to them. I ripped the tape from the driver’s mouth first, and began questioning him. He was first because I knew he wasn’t going to talk. He held his tongue when they were in the car. He was the tough one, and after being tortured for over an hour, I put him out of his misery. Plus, I wanted fake Trent to see what was in store for him if he didn’t give me what I wanted. Now, his ass is sitting here in a bloody mess.

“Hurts like a motherfucker, doesn’t it,” Alistair asks, smirking. “This could all be over if you just tell us where Trent is.”

“I...I told you I don’t know,” fake Trent cries. “He just wanted me to fuck with you, shit, I don’t know, scare you, I guess. He calls when we need to meet up, and it’s never in the same place.”

I move closer to him. “Were you supposed to call him after your failed attempt today?”

He nods his head up and down as best as he can. “Yeah, I was to call, and then he was going to tell me where to meet him to pick up the rest of my money.”

Stalking over to the counter, I pick up his phone, and return. “You’re going to call Trent, and tell him you did what he asked. Try to sound as normal as possible. If you try anything stupid, these fine looking people will be getting a visit from a few of my men.” I remov the picture of him with his parents and little sister from my pocket, holding it up to his face.

More tears fill his eyes. “Okay, okay,” he quickly says. It’s amazing what people will agree to do once their lives are on the line.

Opening his phone, I go to his call long and press Trent’s number. It rings twice before Trent answers.

“Is it done,” he asks.

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