However, fucking the guy up until he agreed it’d be in his best interest to leave town would do the trick.
“We split up,” he announced as he reached his truck. “Scott, you okay to leave your bike here so you can ride with me? Ty, you too.”
“Sure thing, prez,” Scott said as Tyler nodded. “Jinx, Pulse, Locke, you three give it five minutes then leave. Want you three guarding the farmhouse. Check the barn for stragglers. Call if anyone gets close.”
“We sure the dog fight’s over?” Scott asked as he faced Jinx.
The other man nodded. “One hundred percent sure. It never happened. Scott’s plan was fucking perfect. Prick was furious, and most of the handlers took their wasted dogs and stormed out. Everyone else left once they realize there wouldn’t be a show.”
“Good.” Scott slapped Curly on the back. “Let’s go make sure your woman stays safe.” His grin grew feral. “And get us a clubhouse.”
His woman.
Curly was pretty sure he’d destroyed any chance of that. Fuck. Goddammed stubborn woman.
She’d take on the whole damn world if it came gunning for her.
He yanked his truck door open, wishing he could just rip the thing off. A murderous surge of adrenaline coursed through his veins, giving him enough energy to run the ten miles to Prick’s farm. He wanted to smash his fist into the man’s face, wrap his hands around that fat throat, and press his knee into Prick’s chest until he gasped and struggled for air in the most satisfying display of panic. He deserved nothing less than to experience the same near-death fear Brooke felt only hours ago.
“Prez?” Scott asked.
“Huh?” He jerked his gaze away from the windshield.
“Need me to drive? You haven’t started the truck. We’re just sitting here.”
“Fuck. No, I’m good.” He was so far from good it was laughable.
“Brooke holding up?” Ty asked once they were on the road speeding toward the farm.
“She’s tough.” He didn’t want to talk about this. Or anything.
“Sure as hell is,” Ty said with pride in his voice. “Gotta tell you, brother, she’ll make a fantastic ol’ lady. Hope you’re not stupid enough to let that shit pass you by.”
Christ, they needed to shut the fuck up.
Curly's anger expanded as the miles flew by until it filled the truck and seeped out the windows. All he could see was Brooke’s devastated face stained with tears and soot. All he could hear were agonizing sobs. All he could think about was how different this night would have ended if he’d been two minutes later.
By the time they reached the long stretch of road that led to Prick’s farmhouse, Curly was vibrating with so much repressed fury Scott and Ty exchanged multiple troubled glances.
“I’m fine,” he barked when their concern reached annoying. “I’m not gonna kill the fucker. You can stop worrying.”
With a snort, Scott checked the clip on the nine-millimeter he wasn’t willing to be more than three feet from. “That’s why I’m worried. I wish you would kill him.” Once satisfied, he rested the weapon on his lap. “Or give me the green light to take him out myself. He’s the kind of scum that I get a hard-on putting down.”
Ty frowned. “You’re not in the military anymore, Spec. We kill him, and we’re going down for murder. Anyone who knows Prick knows Curly hates his fucking guts. He’ll be hauled in before the body cools.”
“Relax, Mom, I said I’d restrain myself.” The smirk Curly was coming to think of as Scott’s homicide grin appeared.
Curly met Ty’s gaze in the mirror. His cousin’s lips pressed into a thin line of disapproval. Last thing he needed was his VP and his enforcer differing on such a basic topic as how kill-happy the enforcer should be. Tyler had the balls to do what needed to be done regardless of the task, but he also had no desire to be part of a gang of trigger-happy thugs, whereas Scott seemed ready, willing, and eager to pump anyone who crossed him with a gut full of lead.
Once the rest of this shit settled, he’d grab a beer with Scott to see where his head was at. Maybe he’d give Rocket a call and pick his brain. If anyone would be on the up and up about Scott’s mental state, it’d be Rocket. As Scott’s sister’s ol’ man and former black-ops assassin, he’d have some solid insight.
Curly slowed the vehicle as the ramshackle farmhouse came into view. A dim light shown from one window to the right of the front door. Otherwise, the rickety house sat dark and silent. He killed the engine about a hundred yards out. They’d complete the trip on foot to keep from alerting Prick of their arrival.
A fission of excitement zinged through his veins. This moment had been a long time coming. Prick had countless sins to atone for, and Curly couldn’t wait to dine on the man’s fear. He sucked in a breath to settle the violence rising from a long-buried place. A place he hadn’t visited since he’d been in prison.