32. Rhett

Chapter 32

Rhett

" N o one called," I snarl at the man that steps out of the black car. They always come in black cars, and the bastards always have a tattoo on them. This one has the eightball tattoo on his neck and a cross under his right eye. A real creepy motherfucker if I say so myself, but I'm not exactly scared. We've dealt with these fuckers for years now.

"The boss says he doesn't have to," the man answers, his eyes dancing over to the cabin. "Who's the broad?"

My chest tightens. "No one you should be worrying about. Stay out of my business and we'll stay out of yours."

The man grins and reveals a gold tooth. Jesus, could he have looked any more the mobster? He must really enjoy his job.

"What do you want?" Colt asks as he steps inside the barn. "I thought we'd settled our business two weeks ago."

"The boss has changed his mind. He wants more," the man shrugs. "I'm here to deliver the message and collect."

"We've discussed this," I growl. "You don't come unannounced, and we certainly don't go back on our deals. Your boss already agreed to an amount, and we paid it."

"He changed his mind," the man says. "Pay up."

Or else. He doesn't say the words, but they hang in the air between us. This isn't good. This isn't good at all.

"What's this really about?" Gunnar asks, his arms crossed over his chest. He looks more peeved than usual. I don't blame him. He'd called after him and Fable got back which means his date was interrupted. I'd be pissed too. "Your people don't just show up like this. The Eight Balls are usually more professional."

The man glances at Gunnar and then over at Trent where he stands like a silent sentinel. "Your job is to move product, not ask questions."

"We move product," I snarl. "We agreed to moving more of it when your boss demanded it. We pay what we need to, but we're not giving any more. You can go back and tell your boss that."

The man levels his eyes on me. "I'm not asking for more money. I come to collect."

"You're goin' back empty-handed," Colt declares. "Tell your boss he can come out and discuss it with us if he wants to make changes, not send his goonies to threaten us. We ain't scared of him."

The man narrows his eyes. "The boss also heard you've been working with another group, and he doesn't like that."

I pause. "What the fuck did you just say?"

"You heard me," he replies, his fingers twitching toward his hip. "This ranch sure seems like it means a lot to you. Would be a shame if it was burned to the ground."

I straighten. "Are you threatening me?"

"I thought that was obvious," he answers. "He wants another twenty thousand. Either you pay it or I'm taking someone's head back as payment. One way or the other."

"Why, you motherfucker!" I snarl, and before I think better of it, I leap toward the asshole. Colt immediately springs into action as chaos fills the barn. Fuck! If he gets a shot off, Fable will hear it. Colt seems to have the same idea.

"No guns!" he snarls, wrenching forward to try and tackle the guy, knocking the gun out of his hand.

The guy gets a good punch in before I can dodge his swing, striking me right across the cheekbone and I stumble back. Fuck, that's gonna bruise. I see stars for a few seconds before I'm able to shake it off and leap back into the struggle. Trent is there, holding the guy's arm so he can't grab his gun off the floor. Gunnar has a large wrench in his hand he starts trying to get a good hit with.

The goon's hand latches around my throat and squeezes so tight, I can't get any words out. I choke, trying to kick at him, but nothing works until Trent latches his forearm around his neck and tightens. He starts to struggle, but Trent holds strong, falling on the floor as they struggle. Trent is bigger than him. He ain't getting' out of that hold.

"Fuck," Gunnar snarls, looking toward the door.

"We can't let him go," Colt says. "Not letting him leave sends a message."

"And if they come back and hold good on their promise?" I croak, rubbing at my neck. "What then?"

Colt runs a hand through his hair. "We figure it out when that time comes."

"Fuck," I draw out, looking down at where Trent holds the guy in a chokehold. "Kill him."

Trent jerks without hesitation and the guy's neck snaps. He immediately slumps.

"Fuck!" I snarl, punching the wall. My knuckles split and leave a little bit of blood behind. "We're fucked!"

"We knew this could happen," Colt points out. "We were playin' with fire working with two gangs."

"What do we do now?" Gunnar asks, a hand pressed to his forehead. For a second, I'm reminded that Gunnar has remained relatively clean throughout this. He has to for Callie, and we always make sure he doesn't do any of the dirty work, but now here he is, looking down at another dead body. Fuck.

"They're gonna send someone else," Colt says. He sighs. "We need to get rid of this guy before morning. Fable can't suspect anything."

"Fuck," I snarl, hitting the wall. "Call Mel. Make sure he knows to watch Fable's door, so she doesn't come back out while we're handling business."

"It's time to start finding a way out," Gunnar growls. "Like I told you a long time ago."

"That doesn't help right now," I spit. Because there's no way out. Not once you start. We all know that. Gunnar still hopes, though.

"And what do we do with him?" Trent asks, kicking the guy as he stands to his feet.

Colt eyes the man with disdain. "Strip him and throw him to the pigs. They'll finish the job before morning since they haven't eaten in a few days. Just make sure none of you assholes take Fable down there tomorrow in case they aren't done."

I hold my head in my hands and take a seat on the nearest crate. My head is really starting to hurt. My eye feels like it's swelling up. There's gonna be no way to hide it tomorrow. I'm gonna have to avoid her.

"Motherfuckers," I growl through the pain. "Those motherfuckers."