“Remember that underground ring I had you look into?”
“Mhm. What do you need with it again?”
“Need you to hack their security feed. Look for X, then follow him until you find the moment he was attacked.”
“X?” Damien asked. “Wait, isn’t that the kid who’s hooked on you and has some kind of stalker? I’ve missed so much,” he complained. “I’d say you need to fill me in, but you’d ignore me, so I won’t even bother. Glad you finally give a shit about someone other than yourself though.” I rolled my eyes. His fingers could be heard flying over the keys of his keyboard, and then, he whistled low. “It’s your guy.”
I sat up straighter. “What?” I demanded.
“Yep. Ansel fucking Shaw. He tried to avoid the cameras, but he fucked up and missed a hidden one near the ring. Got his face clear as fuck. And—shit, Shane. He got him over the fucking head with a fucking steel pipe. Your guy alive?”
“Yeah,” I grunted, rolling my shoulders to keep my cool. My anger had to stay under wraps. I had to play this smart. “Unconscious but alive. Preston is with him at the hospital. Track that mother fucker.”
Damien didn’t say anything in response, but I could hear him working. “Daddy?” I heard Trevor softly call.
“Yes, pickle?” Damien responded, keyboard still clicking. Trevor had earned the nickname pickle from Damien from how much the boy loved everything pickle flavored. I’d always thought their bond was adorable and special, and I didn’t think much was adorable in this fucked up world, so that was saying something.
“We’re out of chips, and I wanted a snack.” There was a pout in the boy’s voice.
“Here.” The clicking stopped, then started back up a moment later. “Have some delivered. Whatever you want, okay? When I’m done helping Shane, I’ll come finish watching our movie.”
“Okay, Daddy. Hi, Shane.” And then, the boy was gone again.
“Got him.” Damien said a couple of minutes later. Thank fuck for patience because it felt like it took more than just two fucking minutes for him to find where Ansel was. “I’m sending you a pin. You want back up?”
“Nah,” I told him. “I’ve got it handled. But can you have a clean-up crew lined up? Once I take care of this guy, I want to get back to X and Preston ASAP.”
“On it.”
We ended the call, and I shifted my car into reverse just as the pin came through.
Ansel fucking Shaw, you made a grave mistake coming after my man.
Chapter 26
Shane
The pin Damien sent me to was out in the middle of nowhere on hunting land deep in the mountains. I was surprised Ansel had time to get back to his place and hide whatever vehicle he’d used, but when I came across it merely covered by some tree branches in a poor attempt of hiding it, I realized Ansel wasn’t too worried about being found. He thought he was safe from ever being found in a remote place like this.
And it was making him sloppy.
One of the biggest mistakes most stalkers made, at least in my experience, was thinking they were fucking untouchable. Sure, he’d picked a secluded location currently not being used, nor was it likely anyone would come to check on the place. It was surrounded by trees, and if someone didn’t specifically know where to look, they wouldn’t find him.
But again, people tended to get too comfortable. Finding the window at the back of the hunting cabin Ansel had started using as his new base not only unlocked but cracked to let in fresh air might have been seen as a trap if I hadn’t literally spotted him sitting on the couch watching fucking Reels on his phone as if he hadn’t just hospitalized one of my men.
He was comfortable. Too comfortable. And it was about to be his fucking downfall. Because his second major mistake was not doing his homework on me. He’d targeted Preston, and when he realized he couldn’t get close enough to Preston to draw X out, he went after X directly, even going so far as to get himself a fight lined up with X.
But I was the real monster he had to contend with.
The window didn’t make a sound as I pushed it up the rest of the way. I eased myself inside, my boots not making a single sound as they met the hardwood floors. Carefully, I lowered the window back down where he had it, not wanting to alert him to my presence just yet. Standing stock still, I took in the kitchen/dining room combo. The chairs were wooden, but they were old fashioned with a backing and legs that would make it easy to tie Ansel down.
Grabbing one of the chairs, I placed it in the middle of the kitchen, then slipped the zip ties from my pocket, setting them on the kitchen counter. Then, sliding my pistol from its holster, I silently made my way into the living room. Ansel was moving toward the fireplace, and he crouched with a piece of paper and a lighter. Patiently, I waited until he got the fireplace lit, the fat lighter inside quickly igniting and lighting the dryer wood easily.
Ansel stood and turned, then stopped, his eyes widening upon spotting me. My expression didn’t change.
“Hello, Ansel,” I greeted. “Did you have fun?”
He opened his mouth, then closed it, suddenly looking terrified. But I didn’t give a fuck. He should have thought about the consequences of his actions before he decided to go after my men. The men who’d become my fucking family.