Titan (Dark Kings 1)

“What’s the plan?” he asks me.

“Collect what we’re owed,” I answer.

“And if he doesn’t have it?” Cross asks, exiting the passenger side of the Zenvo.

“Then you get to burn something,” Bones answers, slamming my passenger door shut. He’s in a mood, and it’s not a good one.

All four of us make our way up the concrete steps and knock on the big wooden doors.

They don’t keep us waiting long. A little Mexican woman answers the door. Her black hair is up in a tight bun, and she wears a traditional black and white uniform that allows her to scrub his piss off the floor when he’s too hammered to make it to the toilet.

“May I help you?” Her eyes widen as they run over the black ink that curls around my neck.

I lean forward, and she stiffens but doesn’t back away. “Run,” I whisper.

She sucks in a breath, and I grab her shirt by the collar and yank her through the door. She gasps as I shove her away from us. We enter the house and slam the door shut. Bones locks the door, keeping her out.

“Margarita, who was at the door …?” The man who comes to look over the railing trails off when he sees the four of us standing in his house. “Shit,” he whispers under his breath.

“George, nice place,” Grave says, smiling as he looks around at the expensive wall art hanging and the glass sculptures on the shelves. He walks over to the round glass table that sits in the middle of the foyer and picks up the glass vase that has a red rose painted on it. He removes the flowers, lies them on the table, and then drops the vase to his feet. It shatters to a million fucking pieces.

“Kings,” the man says, swallowing hard. His big eyes go to Bones. “I was gonna call you—”

“Good thing we decided to come see you then,” Grave interrupts him. That stupid grin still plastered on his face.

His hands grip the banister, knuckles turning white. “Have Margarita show you to my office.”

“She won’t be joining us,” I state.

He takes a deep breath. His eyes shoot to the right, and I quickly look at Bones. He gives me a curt nod, silently informing me he caught that too.

“Give me ten …”

“You have three,” I say.

Glass shatters to my right, and I hear Grave giggle like a fucking schoolgirl at destroying shit.

George pushes away from the banister and disappears.

“He could be getting a gun,” Cross states, looking at us.

“He’ll only have time to shoot one of us,” Bones says.

Another sound of glass breaking and Bones sighs but makes no move to stop his brother. Grave is the little kid who destroys every-fucking-thing he touches. The kid who lies down in the middle of a grocery store and throws a fit ’cause his mother won’t buy him ice cream. And Bones is that parent who walks away from him, pretending he’s someone else’s problem.

“Two,” Cross calls out.

We hear a door open, and George comes back into view. He walks briskly down the stairs but keeps looking over his shoulder.

“Let’s go,” I order, gesturing for him to show us the way.

“Grave,” Bones calls out as we begin to walk. He doesn’t follow.

We enter a door, and the man goes to sit behind the desk, but Bones grabs the back of his collar and yanks him back before sitting behind his desk himself. I shove George into a chair across from the desk.

“I have checks … my checkbook is in the drawer.”

Bones places his inked forearms on the brown surface. “We don’t accept checks as a form of payment.”

George swallows, nodding quickly. “I have cash.”

“Where?” I ask.

“It’s not here.”

“Where is it?” Cross growls.

“I can have it tomorrow.”

“Not good enough,” Bones states, leaning back in the seat. He looks up at Cross. “Go ahead …”

“No. No. No,” George says, jumping to his feet. “I can get it. I just need time …”

“You’re out of it.” I grab his arm and pull him down onto the rectangular coffee table that sits in the center of the room. He screams as he fights me, but I manage to get the rope out of my pocket and wrap it around his wrists. Then I yank them back and tie them to the legs of the table. He kicks his legs out, but there’s nowhere for him to go as he lies on his back with his wrists tied above his head to underneath the table.

“Please … please …” he begs. “I have it …”

“You’re three months behind,” Bones says, slowly standing and coming around to lean back against the desk.

George flinches. “Something fell into my lap. It cost more—”

“Not our problem,” he interrupts him.

We all turn to look at the office door fly open, and Grave enters. He has his right hand wrapped around the back of a neck. He shoves the girl into the room. “Look at who I found.”