The Wild Wolf Pup (Zoe's Rescue Zoo #9)(81)

“We have apprehended Mr. Pastore and have brought him into solitary. That is all the information we have at this time.”

“It’s over,” Blackie says, eyes glued to the screen.

“It’s just getting started, brother,” Jack corrects. “Chapel. Now,” he orders, before pointing a finger at me. “You. Stay here. Don’t fucking move, Bianci.”

I glance around the room, spot Reina and Lacey in the corner.

I left my women to sit with Jack’s women.

What the fuck?

I step around the bar, snatch a bottle of bourbon and take a seat at the bar. Lifting my eyes and my glass to the mug shot plastered on the television.

“Here’s to you, Vic,” I toast, throwing back the shot.

Victor Pastore.

The mobster.

The legend.





Chapter Thirty-One




“He’s fucking gone,” Blackie comments beside me, glancing down at his left hand, rubbing his thumb over the spot on is finger a wedding band once lived. Slowly, cautiously, his eyes lift and turn to me. “It’s over,” he repeats. “That motherfucker can’t touch another soul.”

I bit the inside of my cheek as I studied him, trying to figure out if he was asking me or telling me. Not having the heart to burst his bubble I let him hang on to the retribution Vic has given him by killing the G-Man a little longer and turn my gaze to the other end of the table.

If they were still drunk from the restaurant, they hid it well with the attentive stares they fed me.

“Where’s Stryker?” I question, tipping my chin to the empty chair in the corner.

“He went home with some broad,” Linc answers. “Been calling him but his phone is off.”

“He didn’t have a chance to charge it. I took it from him from the can to the restaurant,” Wolf explains, averting his eyes back to me. “We’ll clue him in but why don’t you do us all a favor and clue us in.”

“Riggs, pull up the G-Man’s mug shot,” I order, leaning back in my chair, stealing a glimpse of Blackie out of the corner of my eye. His eyes were still transfixed on his ring finger but slowly he comes around, turning those tortured eyes onto me.

“You’re fucking kidding me, right?” Riggs screeches, sliding his phone across the table at me. “That ain’t no coincidence, Prez.”

Leaning forward, I reach for the phone but Blackie beats me to it, closing his paw over the iPhone, flipping it over to stare at the G-Man’s photo. Many of us had a lot riding on Vic getting the job done, we were banking on it to clear our consciences, but for Blackie it was closure on Christine’s death. With the G-Man gone, Christine could finally rest easy in his eyes and the burden of guilt would lessen for him too.

“I fucking knew it,” Blackie spits, dropping the phone onto the table before viciously raking his fingers through his hair. “I’ve been beating myself up, driving myself mad trying to figure out what the fuck Charlie had up his sleeve.”

“You two assholes better start talking,” Pipe grunts.

“We’ve been trying to piece together Charlie Teardrop’s connection to Brantley and where his bank roll has been coming from,” I recap.

“Sending that schmuck into the Bastard’s clubhouse turned out to be a dead end,” Riggs adds. “He cries as much to them as he does to us, always looking for a handout.”

I turn the screen toward everyone sitting at the table and enlarge the image of the G-Man’s mugshot.

“Three teardrops,” I reveal, passing the phone to Pipe for a better look. “Just like Charlie’s.”

“What’re you saying, Bulldog? This motherfucker built his club while being backed by the G-Man?”

“That’s exactly what he’s saying,” Blackie answers for me. “The G-Man funded the rebirth of the Corrupt Bastards which means he planned something with Charlie, something big, something that would give him control over every operation we’ve taken from him.”

“This can go one of two ways,” I begin. “Either Charlie will pull a Jimmy Gold, and take control over all the G-Man’s assets and operations, go buck wild and get high on power, trying to turn these streets into his. Or, he will avenge his ally’s death because the G-Man dying wasn’t part of his plan.”

“Either way, we’re fucked. Charlie and his club will be pushing in on our territory,” Pipe finishes.

“Everything we’ve buried over the years working with Vic will be resurrected. The drugs will pollute the streets, our streets, and the body count will double in size. I’ve lost one woman, got the blood of a bunch of innocent kids on my hands, not looking for anymore grief, Jack,” Blackie protests, clenching his fists as he closes his eyes and tries to gather his composure.

“Wait a minute,” Wolf demands, slapping the palm of his hand against the wood of the table. “Wait just a goddamn minute. The mob took out the G-Man, Pastore whacked that son of bitch, not us. How can we be so sure this cocksucker will retaliate against the club? This shit ain’t our gig.”

“You’re forgetting, Vic didn’t just avenge his underboss’ death by killing the G-Man, he avenged Christine’s too. He made that motherfucker pay for every fucking funeral we were responsible for under Cain’s ruling,” Blackie rasps, pushing his hair away from his face.