Page 127 of Relentles
“Would you care if I put a bullet in Rory’s head? Or, maybe, you wouldn’t. I’m sure your bitch would.”
Johnnie turned his head, his nose almost touching Cleaner’s. “What is it, asshole? Did your mother not love you as a child?” he taunted.
Predictably, the words set off Cleaner’s temper and he yanked open the door, snatching Johnnie out. In his haste tofuck up Johnnie, Cleaner paid no attention to him shoving his hand into his jacket and pulling his Glock.
If Bash hadn’t come outside the moment Johnnie jammed the gun between Cleaner’s eyes, he would’ve pulled the trigger.
“Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!” Bash called, running to them, along with four other men, guns drawn. “Little brother—”
“I’m tired, Bash,” Johnnie gritted, his hand trembling with the need to pull the trigger. He was staring into Cleaner’s eyes, almost breathless in his anticipation of seeing the blood spatter and the life fade from his gaze. “I came here as you requested with my son and my nephew—”
“I can grab that fucking gun from you, boy,” Cleaner snarled.
“I’ll pull the fucking trigger if you make one motherfucking move,” Johnnie warned, fed up.
“He’s serious, Cleaner,” Bash said.
“No, he isn’t,” Cleaner insisted. “He won’t risk Rory and Ryan.”
“They’re with me, fuckhead,” Johnnie said. “That’s a fucking risk right there.”
“I invited them here to talk. Nothing more, Cleaner, so stand down.”
“Johnnie has the fucking gun on me, Bash.”
“And I’ll keep the fucking gun on you as long as you’re within three feet of me, Rory, and Ryan, and while your brothers are fucking aiming at me.”
“Stand down all of you!” Bash ordered. Once the four Scorpions who’d come out with him followed his instructions, he nodded toward the door. “See to breakfast for us. Johnnie,” he said, after the men returned inside the building, “you and the boys will leave unmolested. Overlook Cleaner’s ferocity. For me.”
“For you? That’s a fucking joke, motherfucker.” Unfortunately, if he shot Cleaner, he’d guarantee Rory andRyan’s deaths. He lowered his gun. “This is my last fucking warning, fucker. The next time, you’re fucking dead.”
“That sounds like—”
“Shut the fuck up, Cleaner,” Bash warned. “Drop it.” He sniffed, then nodded toward the door. “Come on.”
“Before I signal the boys out of the car, I want you to know they’re armed,” Johnnie said.
Bash shrugged. “Don’t make a difference. They might take one or two motherfuckers out before they’re mowed down.” He narrowed his pale green eyes. “Are you okay, little brother? You look a little pale.”
Johnnie was in tremendous pain. He refused any meds because of his driving duties, and he needed all his faculties.
“I’m fine.”
Turning, he nodded to Ryan and Rory. The fear on his son’s face disappointed him. He’d hoped Rory came into this situation was a façade of indifference. He only saw Ryan’s apprehension by a very careful inspection. It was in his eyes, not written all over his face like Rory’s.
“Walk in front of me,” he instructed his son. If shots were fired from behind, he’d take them in his back first. “Ryan, you go ahead of Rory.”
“But—”
“You get your ass shot off first,” Bash said, laughing. “You better hope I don’t have assassins lying in wait.”
Rory trembled.
“Keep steady,” Johnnie ordered. He didn’t have time to shelter him from the reality of how dangerous involving himself in this was. He should’ve minded his fucking business.
Bash led their little parade into the club. Cleaner’s presence loomed large behind Johnnie, leaving his skin prickling in expectation of a bullet tearing into his flesh.
They walked to the usual table and, like always, Cleaner situated himself directly behind Bash, standing with his arms folded and glaring at Johnnie.
