“I’m surrounded by fucking idiots,” I growl.
If Chul gets wind of this, all of my damn hard work will have been for nothing. He won’t let someone who can’t even manage to dispose of a biker, who is as dumb as a bucket of shit, help run his operation.
This is my fucking father’s fault. When I killed him and took over the business, I saw his mistakes. He let age make him soft. The men I had at my disposal were idiots and so fucking sloppy it’s ridiculous. The only good thing he managed to do in years was fuck a woman whose father ran the Korean mob. Bastard wouldn’t let me into that chair, but having my stepbrother there is enough… It gives me the power I need, but to get access to all of it I need Chul to trust me more.
That won’t happen if I draw attention to the failure inside my own organization. Which is exactly why I’ve been trying to extricate my son, without making obvious moves. This fucking sucked, but I had no choice. Regardless, I have him now. I just hope it’s not too late to train him.
“Who was in charge of disposing of Cross’s body?” I ask, dragging my attention back to the shit-storm I have to deal with.
“Troy and Hunter,” Sanchez answers.
I curse under my breath, looking around my office for something to punch. I could probably take Sanchez, but then I’d have to kill the dumbass and I don’t have the patience to find someone who could actually follow a fucking order and dispose of a damn body without leaving a trail.
“I want their heads,” I bark. Their blood might be the only thing that makes me feel even a tiny bit better.
“Attached?” Sanchez asks.
“What in the hell do you think?” I ask, because that’s a pretty stupid question.
“I’ll take care of it.”
“Good and this time find someone fucking smart enough to torch the body too. Do you think that’s possible?”
Sanchez gives me a look, I can tell that I’m pissing him off, but I don’t give a damn.
“I’ll take care of it,” he says again. “Personally.”
“Please, for the love of all that is holy tell me that they at least made sure that fucker was dead before they left him.”
“Reports say he was taken to the Whitefish hospital, but I’m sure that was just to deliver to the morgue.”
“Find out immediately and you better pray that he was dead. If not, I’ll be looking for new men—all new men.”
“Will do,” Sanchez responds.
“Who is in charge of the investigation on the FBI?”
“Gavin Lodge out of the Montana field office.”
“So not on our payroll,” I growl, knowing this is going to be a headache. FBI are like fucking flies, always buzzing around my shit and giving me grief. If Chul catches wind of this shit, I’m screwed. I need to lock it down immediately.
“We can call Wheeler. He’s not in the Montana office, but he’s in Topeka. He could step in before shit is totally fucked up,” Sanchez suggests.
“Do it. Let me know at once. If we need to we can eliminate Agent Lodge.”
“Might buy more heat if an FBI Agent goes missing.”
“Not if it’s done correctly and not by idiots who don’t bother to burn a fucking body.”
“I’ll get on it immediately,” Sanchez says and he leaves.
I let him go, staring out the window over the lawn of the front of my estate. This wasn’t a problem I needed. It’s taken me way too fucking long to get my hands on my son. I need time to mold him into the type of progeny I can be proud of.
Fuck.10RoryI’m hiding in the half bath outside of King’s office. I listened to everything they talked about. I didn’t plan on it, but once I heard them mention the FBI… I had to. I’m not going to get many chances to leave and take Ryan to safety. I need to do it soon. I’d like to see a doctor, although after yesterday I’m sure I’ve lost my baby. I’m still bleeding, although not as heavy. I hear King’s office door close, but I still wait another five minutes before I go outside.
I can’t be away from Ryan too long. He’s promised me he will play nice with King for now. I hate that he has to, but my body can’t take any more abuse. Still, I can’t leave him alone and totally unprotected. I carefully leave the room, after looking to make sure the coast is clear. I’m almost back to the false safety of my own room, when I hear his footsteps.
“What are you doing out, sister dear?”
I hate when he calls me that.
“I needed to use the restroom and Ryan was in ours,” I invent. King studies my face and it takes everything inside of me to keep it devoid of emotion.