Page 117 of Roses Are Dead
“What’s going on?” I asked him before he could pull away.
“We get to kick some ass.” His smile wasn’t creepy at all. At least, that’s what I told myself.
A tow truck—not one of ours—sat outside the club. Attached to it was Zoe’s car. Next to them was my SUV.
Jackson took his time to walk around the vehicles to inspect for damage. His brows were down, casting his eyes into shadow. With the precision he carried himself, and the glowering seriousness of his expression, I knew he plotted murder.
Bad timing for it.
Then again, if the club was going down, maybe it was the perfect time to show everyone why we earned the moniker, “Destroyers.”
I peeked into the cab of the tow truck out of curiosity more than anything else. No sooner than I did, I smacked Jackson’s arm as he paced another slow circuit around the vehicles. “Check it out, blood.”
His face flushed red and his eyes met mine. “That better be his because if it’s not…”
“Boss?”
“What?!” He was at the end of his leash and ready to snap free at any second.
I kept my voice low. “If it isn’t his, I think everyone would want a piece. I know I would appreciate at least one bite.”
His body shook with rage. “We’ll see.
He practically ripped the screen door off its hinges, then kicked more than opened the door as he powered into the club. The rumble of voices cut short.
Near the entrance, Baldy and Coop flanked a greasy pig of a human who wore filthy overalls, a squalid T-shirt yellowed by dirt and sweat, and mud-caked work boots. Blood dripped from the towel he had pressed to his neck, and more of it stained his clothing rust-red.
Zoe raced to her father with a high-pitched, “Daddy!” Her momentum practically took him down but he recovered quickly to put her at arms-length and check for damage. Seeing none, he smiled.
“May I please get my gun out of the car? Please, Daddy?”
He shot a glance at the bleeding man. “Give me a minute to catch up first.”
“Who cut him?” I interjected, because that was important.
Rose stepped forward. Unlike Zoe, she did have blood on her hands and clothes. “I did.”
My head went a little fuzzy.
Before I thought to blink, she was standing in front of me, holding out the athame I’d given her. “Long story, but he had Zoe’s car attached to his truck when I got to the school to wait for her. I tried to make him unhook it but, well, eventually had to force him to see things my way.”
I snatched the weapon from her hand and inspected the blade to make sure she’d cleaned it before sheathing it. There was a little residue near the pommel. I pulled out my bandana to clean it off.
Meanwhile, Jackson set Zoe to the side, drew his gun, and confronted the tow truck driver. “Before I kill you, do you have anything to say in your defense?” He was maybe a dozen words away from pulling the trigger.
I tipped my head to have Coop and Baldy stand clear of the splatter zone.
“I’d gotten a call.” His defense was weak even to his ears.
“From who?” Jackson may have sounded calm, but he was far from it.
The driver licked his lips, preparing to fabricate a lie. His eyes shifted to my left where Rose stood.
She leaned in and whispered to me, “From Carl.”
While that wasn’t news to the driver, he had the good sense to look down and piss his pants.
“Gross,” Zoe observed.
