Page 120 of Duty and Desire
Until Mo had.
In his house, there was no sick-fuck shrine to Lottie.
What they found after Jaylen asked the man for a word, he tried to bolt, Axl locked him down, they detained him in Smithie’s office and got his wallet off him, then sent a team to his house, a team that included Hawk, were a number of very disturbing journals.
And a basement that was being equipped to do all the things to Lottie he’d written that he intended to do.
Yes. He was building his confidence and preparing to follow through.
That was part of his visit to the club that night. Keep an eye on his mark, or now his marks, build his hate and assess the lay of the land.
The man was still in Smithie’s office.
This huddle was about next moves.
“Any involvement of law enforcement at this juncture that has any hope of sticking would include perjuring ourselves repeatedly,” Hawk noted.
“I’m down with that,” Smithie said.
Mo said nothing.
He was still trying to get out of his head how much plastic sheeting had been put up in the basement.
And the neatly aligned instruments laid out on a table.
But Hawk knew Mo would never perjure himself to the cops.
Unless ordered to do so for the good of the mission.
Or to protect someone who meant something to him.
So he didn’t have to answer.
“Second option is I contact a man I know who’s adept at disappearing people,” Hawk went on.
Mo focused more fully on his boss.
“I’m down with that too,” Smithie declared heatedly.
He was still seeing plastic sheeting as well.
Not to mention that table of instruments.
“I’m not talking a hit, Smithie. I’m talking forced relocation where the chance of return is nil. This includes check-ins to make sure that nil stays nil. For an added cost, it includes permanent incapacitation,” Hawk explained.
“I’m down for that too, even if I don’t know what permanent incapacitation means if it doesn’t include this sick fuckingfuckbeing very fuckingdead.”
Right.
Smithie was holding on by a thread.
Mo knew the feeling.
“No fingers. No tongue. No eyes. A combination. Or in extreme circumstances, no legs or paralysis,” Hawk told him.
“And again I’m feelin’ like I hit the lottery because none of these choices sound bad to me,” Smithie returned.
“Smithie, you would have to live with that,” Hawk pointed out.
