Kings of Chaos (Dirty Broken Savages #1)(57)

Unless you’re Gage.

If you’re Gage, then you’re being a moody fuck, sitting in the back office with a scowl on your face as you read over some papers.

“Who pissed in your cornflakes?” I ask him from where I’m lounging on the couch, tossing a ball against the wall and catching it in one hand.

“What?” Gage asks, and the word comes out with a bitter edge to it.

I catch the ball and roll it around in my hand. It’s nowhere near as cool as all those fancy coin and card tricks Ash always does, but fuck it. I don’t have the patience to learn that shit.

Craning my neck a little, I glance over at Gage. He’s always kind of moody, kind of pissed off, but he’s been worse lately.

“What’s your issue?” I rephrase. “You’ve been glaring at that paper for the last ten minutes.”

“I don’t have an issue,” he bites out, not even looking at me. A couple strands of his dark brown hair fall over his forehead as he glares at the papers in front of him.

I just laugh. “Yeah, okay. Sure. This is you all sunshine and rainbows. You’re having a great day.”

“Fuck off, Knox,” he snaps, and I just laugh again.

“It’s River, isn’t it?”

“What part of fuck off do you not understand?”

That’s basically him saying I’m right. This little silver-haired fox is reaping chaos in our lives, and if I’m being honest, I kind of like it.

It’s something new. Something that shakes up the routine, and there’s nothing wrong with having someone around that keeps us on our toes for a change. We are the Kings of Chaos, after all. Maybe we’ve just been waiting for our queen all this time.

I don’t say any of that to Gage, though. I might not be the brightest bulb in the box, but I know better than that. He’s in a mood, and he’s not above taking it out on other people.

I can practically see the vein in his head threatening to explode each time I toss the ball and it thwacks into the wall, so I do it a couple more times just to be an asshole and then get up before he decides to cut my balls off.

Gage doesn’t stop me when I leave the office, and I make my way out of the club, leaving the flashing lights and thumping music behind for now.

It’s been quiet since I let Reggie go, and I almost wish the Diamond Devils would fuck with us again, just to have something happen. I want to let my monster out again. Ever since I fucked River in the basement, I can feel it closer to the surface than ever, just coiled there, waiting to be able to strike again.

The crazy thing is, she doesn’t even seem scared of it. Most people are. Even the other guys keep their distance when I’m in that mode, letting me handle things and coming in later when they know it’s over and done with.

But River was right there in the middle of it. She saw what I was doing and wanted to join in. She was fucking turned on by it, and the sex we had while Reggie hung there in chains was some of the hottest I’ve ever had.

Maybe that’s why I want to ruin her even more. Maybe I want to see what it would take to make her scared of me. To see fear flash in those vivid blue eyes.

I head home, and when I arrive, I find River in the kitchen.

There’s a sniper rifle on the table, and she’s got a maintenance kit spread out around it while she cleans it. I smirk and walk up behind her, leaning down to lick the shell of her ear.

She goes stiff, then melts a little into it, then goes stiff again. Like she was into it for a second, then figured out a reason not to be.

Her hands go for the gun and she turns around with it in her grip like she might use it, but I just laugh.

“You’re not gonna shoot me with that.” It’s a long-range weapon, and she knows it.

Her eyes narrow, but she puts it back on the table anyway, admitting wordlessly that I’m right. Her nails are painted a different color than they were yesterday. I’ve noticed she changes her nail polish a lot, and I kind of like it. It’s fun to try to guess what color she might pick next.

I move to sit down across from her and run my hands over the gun, checking it out. It’s good quality, and I’m not really surprised. River seems to know her shit.

“You’re gonna shoot him from a distance,” I say, leaning back in my chair.

She glances up, her expression guarded. “Yeah. So what?”

I just shrug. “Just wondering what your plan is.”

She lets out a breath. “He’s having a meeting at some Italian place. Out in the open. It’s the best way to get to him and take him out.”

“You scoped the place out?”

She nods. “Yeah. There’s a roof in the right spot. He won’t see me, and he’ll get a bullet in the brain.”

“Quick,” I reply. “Neat.” My tone is neutral, but she can hear what I’m not saying. I can tell by the way she glances at me.

“You don’t think it’s enough.”

I shrug again. “It’s not my plan. I’m just thinking… Ivan St. James is a piece of shit. Maybe he doesn’t deserve quick and neat. Maybe he deserves to suffer. He’s definitely made a lot of people suffer who would rather have had quick and neat.”

Something flashes through her eyes, but I can’t figure out what it is before it’s gone. “You’re right,” she says. “He does deserve to suffer. But I’m ready to just end it. I’ve been trying to get through his guard for way too long. I’m not going to pass up this chance just because he deserves worse.”