Page 28 of Own

“Fuck off, man.” We step into the street at the same time. Z meets me on the sidewalk with a favorite tool of the trade.

Barely lunchtime and the doors are open, the booze is flowing, and the ladies waiting tables scatter when they see me coming. Probably the machete in my hand that scares them off.

Before we enter the main dining area, where our presence will be clear, I receive a text message. I read it, and a satisfied grin spreads across my face.

“Oh fuck,” Z says, stepping back and letting me enter first.

Arturo has given me the green light on his nephews, clearly understanding that what I’m about to do is not only what’s best for me, but will save him future headaches as well. All I need now is permission to go after his bastard child, because, have no doubt, we’ll have a location very soon.

“Gentlemen.” The brothers jump at my voice; their security guards stumble to their feet, already six sheets to the wind and unable to react fast enough to stop me from chopping Jordan’s uninjured arm off at the elbow, where it rests on the table, holding an empty glass.

Screams, cursing, and threats echo around the room. Jordan passes out, Jacob vomits, and their security is fucking useless.

“I believe we had the discussion about attacking me already, no?” Jacob mumbles and nods, reaching for a glass of water.

I sit next to his bleeding brother and motion for Z to handle him. He picks the man up, tosses his body at two of the guards still on their feet, with instructions to stick him in the freezer and wrap his arm. He’s not dead yet, but it won’t be long without help.

“Sit up,” I snap at Jacob. He’s pale and still looks like he’s about to vomit. Blood soaks the floor beneath my feet as it runs off the table. Gripping the machete’s handle, I pull it from the wooden slab and lay it out in front of me. “You were going to explain why you thought it was a good idea to attack my woman.”

Jacob swallows, choking on his own spit. Z waves someone over. A woman appears, shaking and looking like she’d rather be anywhere else. I don’t blame her.

“Bring over your best bottle of Tequila.”

She nods and runs off, reappearing with clean glasses and an unopened bottle of Don Julio. Well, at least they don’t have terrible taste.

Z pours Jacob a glass and the fool downs it in one gulp. “You were saying, Jacob.” He needs a push to speak words, it seems.

“He…I…we…I…”

“Jesus, you said that. Spit out something to explain your actions,” Z snaps.

His eyes are glued to my weapon, and his mouth remains shut. The silence rattles him even more. When more men step into the room, I’m almost positive he pisses his pants; that’s how badly he’s shaking.

“Take them both to the greenhouse,” I instruct, annoyed that I’ll have to extract information from them there.

I want the location of the man who attacked Hester on the bus. Nobody survives, or someone else will try this same shit in the future, and I refuse to have my woman roaming around a city where she needs to fear what could happen to her if I’m not there to protect her. That’s not the world I’ll allow my family to live in, especially if Hester’s already pregnant with my child.

She should have the same freedoms as everyone else, and as much as I hate the idea of her doing anything without me, I won’t suffocate her either. She’s suffered enough trauma; I won’t add to it or use it to amplify her own fears.

“You want to go to the greenhouse before cleaning up?” Z points to the blood staining the front of my suit. Fuck, I liked this one.

“Consequences of my actions, I suppose.”

He snorts a laugh in a situation where one is not warranted and earns a few shocked looks from those around us.

“I’d say so,” he mutters to me, then speaks louder. “In case it’s not obvious, folks, you’re closed for business. I would strongly urge you to seek employment elsewhere and stay away from scumbags like those two idiots.”

“Give them all a week’s wages,” I offer. I don’t know what they make here, but I doubt it’s much. “Double it and ensure they understand the importance of keeping their mouths shut as well.”

He agrees, shrugs, and gathers everyone in the kitchen as I message my mother to make sure she’s up for having the kids with her overnight.

I hadn’t asked her yet when I told Hester that, but she normally doesn’t say no. And she doesn’t now, even suggesting I order pizza and candy so they can have their own little party. Agreeing to her terms, I give the instructions to Miles.

“We’re good to go, boss.” Z returns just as our men drag the Santos brothers out.

“Who owns this place?” I ask, not thinking the brothers would, but I’m not sure who else would allow them to come in here and cause as much chaos as they have.

“An old friend of theirs. They’ve been blackmailing him for years for free booze and food whenever they like. They’ve damn near bankrupted the man by scaring off staff and customers.” Fucking idiots.