Silas (Dirty Aces MC #4) - Lane Hart Page 0,4
on the inside instead of him. I know for a fact that my body count from the night we crashed Harold Cox’s house was higher than anyone else’s. Killing is in my blood, not his. So, just like the other guys, I’ll do whatever it takes to get Nash home.
In the chapel, I’m not all that surprised to see the pixie girl is back, leaning against the wall. Surprisingly, she’s been busting her ass with her computer skills to try and find something to help our boy. The fact that she looks optimistic and not doomed is a good sign.
I’m the last one to take a seat at the table, so Malcolm jumps right in. “Thanks to Jetta and Lucy, we’ve got a home address for the chef. She’s been laying low, probably afraid even though the DA promised to keep her name off the record. She knows we’re not stupid and would eventually realize it was her. That’s why she hasn’t been at work and the house she’s staying in is deeded to her parents.”
The chef? Oh, right, the scared redhead we found in the pantry at Cox’s house.
“How are we going to handle her?” Wirth asks.
“You’ve got the chop shop to run,” Malcolm starts. “Devlin and Fiasco have their construction jobs, I’ve got the MC businesses and a kid to take care of, so I’m thinking we let Silas handle this one. Not to mention he may be the only one of us who has the balls to kidnap and hold a woman hostage.”
“Fuck yeah,” I easily agree. If killing comes as easy to me as breathing, then kidnapping is probably something I could do in my sleep. I know for a fact I can handle it better than any other man at this table. Whatever conscience I possess won’t get in the way of making sure this woman doesn’t say a word in court about Nash. Not to mention, I’ve always had a fetish for ropes and gags…
“You cannot, I repeat, cannot kill her no matter what, do you understand?” Malcolm grits out. “I would prefer if you don’t hurt her either, if at all possible.”
Shit. If he doesn’t want me to hurt her, then I guess bondage is out the window. That means I’ll need to come up with another idea besides keeping her tied up in a secluded basement. And I’ll need to do it fast since the clock is ticking. This will need to be a nicer, more humane version of kidnapping. This chick is already terrified, probably unable to sleep at night, worried we’re going to come after her…
Ah, and there’s my fucking answer.
“I’ve got this,” I assure Malcolm. “I won’t let you all or Nash down. And the woman? She won’t even know she’s a hostage.”
“How the hell are you gonna manage that?” Devlin asks with his brow furrowed.
Cracking my knuckles, I tell him, “Now I can’t go around giving away all of my secrets.”
The truth is, if I told the guys what I’ve got in mind, they probably would think I couldn’t pull it off. I have to, though, no matter how insane my plan might be. I don’t need any of their doubts getting in my head.
“You’re a sick bastard,” Wirth says to me with a shake of his head, well aware of how my fucked-up mind works.
“Keep her in one piece,” Malcolm reiterates, as if it’s necessary, like I’m a small child who didn’t understand him the first time. Sure, I may enjoy hurting women for fun, but only when they’re into it too. That’s why I’m picky about my playmates, making sure they can handle what I dish out before we get naked. “And no mind-fucking either,” our president adds.
“I’ll do my best,” I reply when I get to my feet, already thinking of a million things I’ll need to do to actually pull this off. Holding out my palm, Malcolm gives me the piece of paper with the address for the chef. Let the fucking games begin!
“Give me…” I try and calculate how long everything will take…costume, housing, new vehicle. “Seventy-two hours; then report her missing.”
“Seventy-two?” Dev asks.
“Yeah, man. It’s going to take a little time to line shit up,” I tell him.
“You sure you can handle this?” Malcolm asks.
“Yep,” I answer. No matter what it takes, I’ll have to get it done – nab the redhead and keep her from testifying.
“All right then. Good luck. Stay in touch as much as possible,” Malcolm replies.
Shit. Is he