Firestorm (Sons of Templar MC #2)(70)

I realized there was still a grim reality to face.

“What about Clark?” I asked the group around me later once I had settled onto a couch. More like once Gwen had forced me onto a couch after she had demanded to see my injuries. After paling slightly she had declared I wasn’t to move or otherwise I would face her wrath.

Brock, Cade, and Garrett all exchanged a look before Cade answered. “He’s going to be taken care of.”

“Taken care of?” I repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Yep,” Cade stroked Gwen’s shoulder absentmindedly. She had allowed him back within touching distance but still scowled at him every now and then.

“Sorry, we’re going to have to expand a bit on the vague badass terminology. What does ‘taken care of’ entail? You’re going to give him a stern talking to? Or are you going to off him?”

“No one says off, babe. You watch too many movies,” Brock said from beside me.

I turned to him. “Well, obviously not because I didn’t think that people said ‘he’s going to be taken care of’ in real life, but the phrase was just uttered from Cade’s lips. So there we are,” I snapped at him.

“We’re sorting it out,” he replied stiffly.

“Can you expand on that?” I asked sarcastically.

“No,” Brock said.

I sat up. “No? Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure I was the one who was kidnapped, so I think I’m entitled to be kept updated on the fate of my kidnapper,” I snapped at him.

Brock opened his mouth but Garrett beat him to it.

“Slugger, that’s precisely why you aren’t going to worry about what limited future that piece of shit has.” His voice held a bite I had never heard from my easygoing uncle. “You got a family here that is going to take care of it. We aren’t shutting you out because we don’t respect your ability to handle what’s going on—we’re doing it so you don’t have to think about him anymore.” His voice was soft and I found myself loath to argue with him.

“Okay,” I relented. “But you’re giving me the lowdown on what kind of business my freaking father was involved in with a crime lord, and how said business translated into me getting carved up by a crazy person,” I demanded.

There was a pause and I raised my eyebrow threateningly at my uncle. I was not taking no for an answer.

He sighed. “You know from experience the variety of pies your father has his manicured fingers in.”

I nodded. I had helped bake some of those freaking pies, so to speak. My mother may consider me an irresponsible party girl, but I had a certain knack for the business world. Not that I would ever pursue it. It was boring as f*ck.

“Well,” Garrett continued, “your father has certain amount of control over certain high-ranking officials thanks to these businesses.”

“Let me guess. He owns the notes to more than a few home titles and is a capital investor is many business ventures of certain high-ranking officials.” I deduced.

Garrett smirked. “Spot on, Slugger. Your father, despite being a f*cking twat, is a shrewd businessman. In addition to making a f*ck ton of money he also gained influence.”

“So that’s what Clark wanted—Dad to blackmail some city official?” I interrupted. It was the logical conclusion, but I didn’t think something that simple would result in me getting involved.

“In part,” Garrett replied slowly, his face hard. “Clark was more interested in the Silversdale deal.”

I sat up straight, shrugging Brock’s arm from around my shoulders. “You mean the deal I closed?” I asked quietly. I ignored the hand at my back and the eyes I could feel on me. I focused on my uncle who nodded, mouth set in a grim line.

“That deal not only had your father’s company importing milk products from around the world, it also gave him significant control over the docks. And since he had control over not only what came in but also the people that let it in, he was of particular interest to Clark Devon,” he explained.

I was silent for a moment. “I’m guessing Clark wanted to smuggle something into the country and didn’t want to declare it to customs,” I said dryly. “What exactly was he trying to get in? Elephant tusks? Fake designer bags? Freaking illegal immigrants?” I rattled off sarcastically. In truth I knew the probable substance that would warrant all of this shit and account for Clark’s wealth.

“Drugs,” Garrett answered, proving me right, his eyes flaring in distaste. “Clark Devon is a major player in the heroin and cocaine game and had been trying to get access to a deal like the Silversdale one for over a year. When your father’s company closed the deal it was a prime opportunity for him.”

I got up quickly, ignoring the glare I got from Gwen. “So you’re telling me that the deal I f*cking facilitated was what got my father involved with Devon in the first place?” I said, my voice bordering on shrill as I paced the room.

Garrett’s face turned soft. “Slugger...”

I didn’t let him finish. “My mother was right, it is my fault I got kidnapped.” I laughed without humor. “By trying to prove to both her and my f*cking father I was good enough for them I shot myself in the goddamn leg,” I paused. “Or more aptly I stabbed myself in the leg,” I laughed coldly again.