Page 52 of Havoc

“Men and their cars,” I sighed, flicking the cigarette out the window. “Now, we need to find a new place.”

“We will,” he said. “But first, we need to track down Hendrix and figure out what he has planned.”

I sighed. I’d almost forgotten about my conniving and cowardly brother. “Chance can find him. Hendrix won’t know Chance is on our side yet, we can trap him and figure it out.”

I didn’t want to rule out the possibility of Hendrix joining us. He could easily run things in Queensland like he has been and still keep his life, but he had to know I wouldn’t think twice before I took his life if he crossed me.

“Where to now?” I asked Lennon.

He had a smile on his face. “Well, I know for a fact there’s a penthouse apartment sitting empty.”

The wise men’s apartment would be fully equipped with everything we’d need, and I knew it had a couple of rooms for us all. They’d always been entertaining guests so we could all fit in there for now. “Isn’t it messy?”

“No, I had Pierce and Caelan have it cleaned. The wise men’s bodies are taken care of too.”

“How?”

“Harbour,” Lennon told me.

“Okay, tell the others, that apartment could do a lot of good for us for now.”

Lennon dialed Hadrian who would relay the information to the others. It was time to start my empire and rule the fucking town who threw me away. I couldn’t wait to start my own brand of justice, getting rid of the fuckers who thought they could control my city.

If they didn’t follow me, they’d burn…just like Sonora was right now.

Chapter Twelve

Lennon

Presley stood at the window, overlooking the entire city, with a stern look on her face. It had been three months since we destroyed the chateau, and three months since we’d seen Hendrix. Pierce and Caelan had been out, trying to find a trace of him, but he’d not returned to Queensland and his empire was crumbling to the ground because of it. I walked up behind her and took my place next to her.

She’d barely slept the past couple of weeks, and I think it had a lot to do with the uprising we had heard grumblings of from the streets. Not everyone was happy with Presley’s aggressive claim to the seat they all coveted.

“Pierce thinks he’s found the ringleader of this so-called uprising. He’s bringing him here.”

“No,” she said, turning to me. “I want to go there, I want them to see me.”

“Okay,” I told her, knowing there’d be no way of changing her mind. “Come on then.”

She moved away from the window and we headed for the door. Hadrian was coming with us, Chance had been circling the streets to keep his ear to the ground, like he used to do when he was younger.

Presley got in the driver’s side of the Porsche and revved the engine. “Do you know how to drive?” I asked desperately as she peeled out of the parking garage.

“It can’t be that hard,” she said with a smile on her face. I gripped onto the seat as she took the corners far too late and sent us skidding down the streets, blocking traffic and the like. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel at least a little excited as we sped down the streets of Sydney and knowing no one would do a damn thing about it.

We finally arrived at the club that one of the old associates of Gideon owned. He’d passed it down to his son, Blane, or as I liked to call him, wanker. He was one of the ones inciting a war against Presley only, I knew him to be a coward, so he’d have his entire crew here to support him.

“What the hell?” I heard people mutter from outside the club, day drinkers and dole bludgers. Presley’s face would have been plastered on every door to warn people of what she was capable of. Two burly men came for us, with every intention of hurting Presley, but they didn’t know how impatient she was with people.

She pulled out her gun and shot one of them in the face, turning the gun on the other who decided to scram, leaving the door unguarded and allowing us entry.

Blane was standing on the dancefloor which looked like a normal slab of floor without the lights and music pumping. He had two men with him, and guns trained on us. I pulled my gun and both Presley and I shot beside Blane, killing his men.

“I sure hope you had more than that on your side,” she called out to him. Presley moved down the stairs and toward him. Blane stumbled back, tripping over his own feet. That was when we saw it, the dark stain making its way down his pant leg.

“Did you just piss yourself?” Presley asked, disgusted. “I haven’t even touched you yet.”

“P-please,” he begged, both his hands up in front of him. “I don’t want-want t-trouble here.”

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