Spark of Hope (MacKenny Brothers #3) - Kathleen Kelly Page 0,31

to babysit Lola’s mother, Yvette Cartland. The Rochas went searching for her, he was there, and they gutted him.” Gasps sound around the room. “They left them on the table. He didn’t die quickly… it was slow and painful.”

Arrow’s face flushes red, and his nostrils flare. “You’re fucking joking?” He points at me. “And you don’t want to exact revenge?”

The room explodes as the arguments begin. I understand why they want to wage war, but this isn’t the right way. “Shut the fuck up,” I yell.

Bags stands, knocking over his chair in the process. “What kind of a president are you if you don’t want to kill these motherfuckers?”

I raise my eyebrows in surprise. Bags has always been loyal.

“If you want to challenge me, go ahead. But let me explain first.”

Bags picks up his chair and sits back down. “It better fucking be fucking good.”

“Tell you what, Bags, if you want the title, let’s vote. Until then, let me fucking explain.”

Cutter knocks on the table, and I cast a look at him. “Kyle has never led us astray. He’s been a fair president. How about we let him spell it out for us?”

If I ever needed reassurance that Cutter was on my side, this proves it. The scowl he’s giving Bags is enough to make any man squirm. Bags nods and glances at me expectantly as he avoids Cutter’s stare.

“Lola was taken Sunday morning by two men and a woman. Garry, her brother, Suzie, her friend, and a guy called Tommy. Her other brother, Ben, was involved, and we think her mother may have played a part in it, too.” I stare around the table, waiting for someone to say something, but they don’t, so I continue, “Later, on Sunday, I took Cutter and Sean to Lola’s mother’s house to get some answers. It turns out Lola has a son.”

“No fucking way, I did a background check,” says Diesel.

“You missed it,” states Wheels.

“There was nothing. I—”

“Diesel, I’d have missed it, too,” says Sean, cutting him off. “Let Kyle finish.”

“Lola’s son, Logan, told us about another guy. We followed up with him, and he pointed us to Lola’s mother. It turns out the Cartlands bought drugs off the Rochas and haven’t paid them back.”

Rocky clears his throat. “Doesn’t make sense. Why would the Rochas give them drugs without payment? They wouldn’t.”

I shrug. “I don’t know. It’s a good question. Maybe they’d dealt with them before, and they led them to believe that we were involved somehow.”

“Everyone knows we don’t deal in that shit,” states Arrow as he glares at Wheels.

“This is the messy part. When I went to Yvette Cartland’s house, I didn’t believe she was telling me the truth, so I asked Sean to send Smokey to babysit her. The Rochas sent people to the house, and you have to remember they already thought we were involved, so finding one of us there only confirmed their suspicions, so they tortured and killed him. From the intel we’ve managed to gather, the Rochas are actively searching for Yvette Cartland and trying to make amends by helping search for Lola.”

“They killed my friend by accident?” asks Arrow in a quiet deadly voice.

Fuck! Even to my ears, it sounds insane, a total cluster fuck.

“Where’s the mother?” asks Bags.

“We don’t know. I put feelers out, but no one has come back to me yet,” replies Sean.

“There’s more.”

“More? Jesus, how much fucking more can there be?” asks Bags.

“The kidnappers phoned me. They want the club to pay their debt to the Rochas, and in return, they’ll give us Lola.”

Arrow narrows his gaze at Wheels. “Are you involved? Did you jeopardize the club for your old lady?”

“You think I’d do that?” Wheels’ eyes bore into Arrow, then around the table. “This club is my life. You guys are family. Deedee is going through a rough patch, that’s all.”

“You do appear to have a pretty fucking good relationship with Cristiano,” says Sean as he leans back in his chair and cracks his knuckles.

“Who the fuck is Cristiano?” asks Bags.

“He’s the head of the cartel here in town,” I reply.

“Wait, Cristiano? A Latino who wears fancy fucking vests? He’s the head of the cartel?” asks Rocky.

“Yeah. How do you know that?” I ask.

“Because I’ve met him at Wheels’ house.”

Wheels’ eyes flick to me, then back to his hands that are resting on the tabletop.

“Wheels, is there more we should know?”

He squirms in his seat and pulls at the collar of his T-shirt around his neck. “It’s not what