is he doing back in Vegas?”
“No idea. Justice only gives him a short heads up on everything. But what we gonna do about this Gray Man? He’s itching to do this deal.”
Lawless sat forward and pressed his palms into his thighs. “We ain’t gonna do shit. The Task Force will handle it. Just give us the information and we’ll take it from here.” He hauled his big body off the cozy, cum-perfumed comforter. “We’ll have to figure a way to get marked money. Gray Man sure as hell will want proof.”
“You mean y’all still haven’t found the money Ricky stole?”
Voodoo’s hands fluttered like a bird through the air. “Honey, not a clue. That shit has long been laundered.”
Jaw set to hide her surprise at the good news, Abigail deliberately lowered her head to study the situation. These agents didn’t have a clue. Regardless of what St. John had told her about working with these two cops, he never actually said he’d trusted them completely. No wonder they didn’t know he was back in Vegas. He also hadn’t told them she knew where the cash was stashed.
Abigail brushed her bangs away from her eyes. She exhaled. “This ain’t my game. You two are the hotshot federal agents. So tell me, what’s it going to be?” She cocked her hip and drew Voodoo’s glare.
“Lets cut the shit. St. John said you were in deep with Gray Man, and could draw him out for an exchange. If you can, lets do it. If not, we’ll leave you to go back to whatever the hell you were up to,” Voodoo said.
“Tell me what you know about Gray Man,” Abigail said to Lawless.
He stalled, his lips stretching wide in a grimace. He looked to Voodoo. Her arms were crossed so tight against her breasts it was a miracle she was able to breathe. He padded around the room—hand fidgeted with the doorknob. She finally nodded.
“All we know is he’s a killer. I don’t mean a random murderer. He’s a serial killer who preys upon cops. Not long ago we found a CHP outside Sonoma County,” Lawless said. His finger ran along the bottom of the thick window blind. He quick peeked across the parking lot. “California Highway Patrolman Charles ‘Chip’ Diego was in his crashed cruiser. He’d been killed and raped post-mortem. That’s Gray Man’s MO—kill, rape and devour.”
“Just like he did to Jeff Graham,” Abigail whispered.
Voodoo took a giant step forward, stopping inches from Abigail, her expression empty but angry. “How do you know Graham?”
Abigail’s throat closed—she’d said too much. Hands clasped as in prayer, she rested her narrow jaw atop them. Maybe she should just say fuck it and let it all out. She’d seen three of the six blood brothers’ lives come to tragic ends. She was especially pleased about Vengeance’s murder since he was the only Savage she knew for sure was on the highway the day they killed her son.
Strong hands wrapped around her upper arms, and shook her. Voodoo’s face was painted in rage. “I asked you a fucking question, bitch. It was our ass alone in that desert. We carried Graham all the way back to the ER. It’s my fault he’s dead. But you ain’t gonna stand here like some patron saint of dick sucking and decide whether or not to cooperate.”
Abigail tried to shake free of her, but Voodoo was just too powerful. Her eyes filled with tears. Her mind raced with images like a hell-bound carousel. The old feelings of helplessness, of being physically overpowered, hauled her memories over razor-sharp thoughts of Ricky Geneti.
“You killed Jack,” she screamed. Veins exploded across her temples and forehead. Her vision went red. Abigail trembled as her frail fists beat at Voodoo but hit only empty air. Her weight caved on quivering knees and Voodoo helped her to the floor.
Lawless knelt besides the two women. He grabbed the Glock from the dresser drawer and slid it in his waistband. “Abi, what are you talking about. We didn’t kill anyone.”
“Don’t fucking call me Abi,”
“No idea. Justice only gives him a short heads up on everything. But what we gonna do about this Gray Man? He’s itching to do this deal.”
Lawless sat forward and pressed his palms into his thighs. “We ain’t gonna do shit. The Task Force will handle it. Just give us the information and we’ll take it from here.” He hauled his big body off the cozy, cum-perfumed comforter. “We’ll have to figure a way to get marked money. Gray Man sure as hell will want proof.”
“You mean y’all still haven’t found the money Ricky stole?”
Voodoo’s hands fluttered like a bird through the air. “Honey, not a clue. That shit has long been laundered.”
Jaw set to hide her surprise at the good news, Abigail deliberately lowered her head to study the situation. These agents didn’t have a clue. Regardless of what St. John had told her about working with these two cops, he never actually said he’d trusted them completely. No wonder they didn’t know he was back in Vegas. He also hadn’t told them she knew where the cash was stashed.
Abigail brushed her bangs away from her eyes. She exhaled. “This ain’t my game. You two are the hotshot federal agents. So tell me, what’s it going to be?” She cocked her hip and drew Voodoo’s glare.
“Lets cut the shit. St. John said you were in deep with Gray Man, and could draw him out for an exchange. If you can, lets do it. If not, we’ll leave you to go back to whatever the hell you were up to,” Voodoo said.
“Tell me what you know about Gray Man,” Abigail said to Lawless.
He stalled, his lips stretching wide in a grimace. He looked to Voodoo. Her arms were crossed so tight against her breasts it was a miracle she was able to breathe. He padded around the room—hand fidgeted with the doorknob. She finally nodded.
“All we know is he’s a killer. I don’t mean a random murderer. He’s a serial killer who preys upon cops. Not long ago we found a CHP outside Sonoma County,” Lawless said. His finger ran along the bottom of the thick window blind. He quick peeked across the parking lot. “California Highway Patrolman Charles ‘Chip’ Diego was in his crashed cruiser. He’d been killed and raped post-mortem. That’s Gray Man’s MO—kill, rape and devour.”
“Just like he did to Jeff Graham,” Abigail whispered.
Voodoo took a giant step forward, stopping inches from Abigail, her expression empty but angry. “How do you know Graham?”
Abigail’s throat closed—she’d said too much. Hands clasped as in prayer, she rested her narrow jaw atop them. Maybe she should just say fuck it and let it all out. She’d seen three of the six blood brothers’ lives come to tragic ends. She was especially pleased about Vengeance’s murder since he was the only Savage she knew for sure was on the highway the day they killed her son.
Strong hands wrapped around her upper arms, and shook her. Voodoo’s face was painted in rage. “I asked you a fucking question, bitch. It was our ass alone in that desert. We carried Graham all the way back to the ER. It’s my fault he’s dead. But you ain’t gonna stand here like some patron saint of dick sucking and decide whether or not to cooperate.”
Abigail tried to shake free of her, but Voodoo was just too powerful. Her eyes filled with tears. Her mind raced with images like a hell-bound carousel. The old feelings of helplessness, of being physically overpowered, hauled her memories over razor-sharp thoughts of Ricky Geneti.
“You killed Jack,” she screamed. Veins exploded across her temples and forehead. Her vision went red. Abigail trembled as her frail fists beat at Voodoo but hit only empty air. Her weight caved on quivering knees and Voodoo helped her to the floor.
Lawless knelt besides the two women. He grabbed the Glock from the dresser drawer and slid it in his waistband. “Abi, what are you talking about. We didn’t kill anyone.”
“Don’t fucking call me Abi,”
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