Page 79 of Vengeful Mates
“Got some pussy,” Brix grunted, adjusting his belt, making a big show of it in front of his brothers.
Not a single one laughed.
Asshole didn’t even address me as President. I burst from my chair, moving to him so fast, he didn’t get his defenses up. My fist smacked him in the jaw and sent him reeling.
“Pussy isn’t an excuse to be late, asshole!” I shouted. “When your president gives you an order, you obey.”
This asshole never learned to follow an order and was regularly punished by Castor.
Brix stumbled over a chair to the floor. “Fuck, Prez. I’ve been locked up for three days. Have pity on my blue balls.”
I didn’t give a fuck about his tiny blue balls. Or that the asshole probably forced his wife to suck his tiny dick. Violence was top of the fucking menu today when I got to the bottom of all this bullshit.
Under the weight of my stare, Brix took a seat, clutching his bruised jaw in his palm.
Hands flat on the table, I leaned forward. “What the fuck happened?”
All eyes went to Brix for an answer as crew leader.
“Cops showed up before we left,” he grunted, flexing his clearly aching jaw since I really let the asshole have it. “Claimed we were transporting illicit substances. Searched the vehicle. Wouldn’t let us leave, then arrested us.”
Shit I already knew. What I didn’t know was how or why, although, I had a good idea. “How’d they know where you were?”
Brix shrugged, playing dumb, when we all knew he wasn’t. Fucking cunt. Had him in my sight for a while now. Only Colton’s death would give me more pleasure than cutting off Brix’s cock and shoving it down his fat throat.
My gaze cut to Castor, signaling for him to take it from here. Hacker was in the fucking house.
Castor swept up a pile of papers, flicking a sheet across to Brix. “You didn’t send a text on a burner phone to an officer at Bathurst Police Station to alert them of your activities on the night you were arrested?”
We all used burner phones from time to time. The club fucking supplied them. The paper showed a message sent from an unregistered phone from a tower near Brix’s home.
Brix glanced at the paper with a dopey eyebrow. “My burner phone’s tucked away for safekeeping. Hasn’t been switched on since you gave it to me.”
Castor’s eyes narrowed like a solicitor about to get his guilty man. “You never met with officers from Bathurst Police Station?”
Brix huffed and glanced around the table. “Guys, I’m not a fucking snitch.”
Innocent, my ass. My pinky finger had more innocence than this cunt, and I killed too many men to remember.
Castor slammed down a second piece of paper, and Benny jolted. “You didn’t meet with the cops on three occasions?”
“Three?” Brix choked out, the gravity of the situation sinking in, his eyes darting about the room, desperate for a lifeline. Anyone to vouch for him, save him from a world of fucking pain.
Castor layered on paper after paper of evidence. “One of the cops on our take came to me a few months back to warn of a snitch.”
My men’s eyes sank to dangerous slits.
“You ratted on us?” Benny snarled.
“Bit convenient that the cops nailed us and no one else,” Pitbull tossed his beer bottle into the center of the table.
I took a long pull of my drink to wet my dry throat, scorched by my rising anger. “Also convenient that the cops trailed my team from the Lithgow chapter and pulled us over too.”
Four pairs of accusatory eyes went to Brix.
Castor threw his final sheet of paper at Brix. Poisonous to touch. “Convenient that they had two cars follow the real delivery when we threw every possible diversion at them to keep them busy.”
Brix put on a pretty unconvincing act. “I ain’t no snitch. And I don’t appreciate the accusations.”
