Avenged (Angel's Halo MC 7)

“Where’re we going?”

Bash nodded toward the SUV. “Badcock has some connections. Might be able to draw Fontana out. I want to check it out, make sure it’s legit before we move forward with working with him on this.”

I glanced around, making sure no one was around who could overhear us before lowering my voice. “What’s it going to cost us?”

I wasn’t talking about money, and he knew it. Money, we could pay. It was what else he might want as repayment that didn’t sit well with me.

Apparently, it didn’t sit well with Bash either. “He hasn’t said yet. We can discuss that once we figure out if his information is credible. I want you to go with Jet and Spider. Stay vigil. Don’t trust anything Badcock tells you until you see it with your own eyes. And even then, question everything.”

“We got this,” Jet assured him. “I’ll call you when we know something one way or the other.”

“Stay safe,” he told us as we climbed onto our bikes.

We waited for Spider to come out of the clubhouse to join us. After a nod from Jet, the SUV pulled through the gate, and we followed. We drove west, to the coast. It took just over two hours to get there, and as we drove past gated Victorian mansions, I became even more uneasy. The idea of Fontana being in Eureka, California, shacked up in one of these multimillion-dollar mansions pissed me off.

After shooting up my bar, killing Uncle Chaz, and shooting my niece, the fucker came back to this place to relax? The need to torture, maim, kill the sonofabitch made my hands tighten around the handlebars of my hog until my knuckles turned white and my fingers began to ache.

In front of us, the SUV circled around the block of the most expensive mansions and stopped. We parked behind it and walked up to the back windows as Badcock powered down the glass.

“Two mansions back,” he informed us. “Fontana has been staying there periodically over the last few months. For the last three days, he’s been in there and hasn’t come out.”

“How the fuck do you know that?” Spider demanded, leaning in the window menacingly.

Badcock didn’t even flinch at the closeness of the lethal enforcer. “The mansion isn’t his. It actually belongs to a friend of a friend.” His lips lifted in the beginnings of a smile but dropped before it could form completely. “I have a lot of friends.”

“This friend of a friend a client of yours?” I asked, remembering what Kelli said earlier about the man’s job.

“No comment,” he said with the trace of amusement in his voice.

“Right.” Jet’s eyes were already scanning the rest of the neighborhood. “I need proof he’s in there. You understand, right, Badcock?”

“Perfectly. Take your time. Get all the proof you need. I’m headed home.” He pulled a card from his wallet and handed it to me. “Call if she needs anything. I don’t care what it is or how much it costs. If she needs me, I’ll be there.”

I clenched the card in my hand, but I didn’t throw it back in his face. There was real emotion in his eyes when he spoke of Kelli. Remembering the way she had talked about him, I knew he meant something to her too.

“We’ll be in touch,” Jet told him before stepping back.

With a nod to Badcock, I waited for his window to power back up and the SUV to drive off before following my brother and Spider.

In this neighborhood, the three of us stuck out like a sore thumb, so we had to wait for the sun to go down to do any real recon. We found a place to wait in town, grabbing something to eat and waiting for darkness to fall. It was just after six when we went back.

Parking our bikes several blocks away, we snuck up to the gate of the mansion. Of the three of us, I was the leanest one, and shorter than Jet by an inch or so. It was only logical that I be the one to get closer for a better look.

If Fontana was in there, the lack of guards outside told me he wasn’t expecting anyone to sneak up on him here. Cocky sonofabitch. I kept my eyes open for signs of cameras or any other security systems. Every window was wired, so that if they were opened, an alarm went off. And other than a camera by the garage, there was nothing else to be concerned with. Strange for a house of this size and expense, especially if a security-conscious mafioso was in there. Both Vitucci’s compound and Santino’s mansion were crawling with guards twenty-four seven. With enough cameras, even the Secret Service would have been impressed.

But as Badcock said, this wasn’t Fontana’s house.

Going around to the back of the mansion, I found a window that seemed to belong to the family room. I saw the silhouette of four people, and from the size of them, they were all male. I leaned closer, trying to get a better look and hear what they were saying.

The windows were so thick, I didn’t catch a single word they spoke, but as one of the other men shifted, I caught sight of Enzo Fontana.

He was right there, a smug-ass grin on his face, laughing at something one of his men had just said and not paying a lick of attention to anything outside of those four

walls. I could have lifted my gun, pointed it right at his head, and taken him out then and there.

But a quick death was too good for him. It should be long, drawn-out, and as painful as possible. I wanted him to beg for the end, and to deny him the relief of death for days before I finally put a bullet in his skull.

Fifteen minutes later, the three of us were on our way back to Creswell Springs. Now that we knew where Fontana and his men were, we could all come up with a plan to take the bastard out.