Wolfe had a brief sense of déjà vu. Same warehouse as he had found Shel, same bench, same dingy lightbulb providing completely inadequate light.

It wasn’t raining outside, though.

“Sit,” Wolfe commanded.

Billy sat in the chair—the same chair that Shel had been in just under forty-eight hours ago.

“Cuff him to the chair,” Wolfe said.

Shel took some handcuffs from him and cuffed Billy’s legs, then released his hands adnd cuffed them to the chair’s arms.

Billy smiled his smug smile the whole time. Boy was acting like he had won the lottery and not just gotten caught by his enemies.

“So, talk to me,” Wolfe said, squatting in front of Billy. “Why kill Heinrick?”

Billy laughed, smiling at Wolfe, still strangely at ease. “Good one.”

What?

Wolfe pulled his gun out and smashed it down on Billy’s hand, feeling parts within the Cobra’s fingers crunch. Billy screamed.

After a moment, he calmed, but tears were running down his eyes. “What the fuck, man? What’re you doing? Why’d you hurt me?”

“Answer the question if you don’t want to get hurt.”

“What? I followed orders! I was doing was I was told!” Billy said, now struggling against his bonds.

Shel gave a slight sob and fled from the warehouse, out the front door. Damn. Well, it was fun being admired while it lasted.

“Told by whom?” Wolfe asked his victim.

“By Nico! Nico told me to do it.”

Why is the head enforcer, and not the leader, of the Cobra’s ordering hits?

“Not Jason Klaus?” Wolfe asked.

Billy laughed. “No, of course not.”

What?

“Of course not?” Wolfe asked. “Why of course not?”

Before Billy could answer, Wolfe’s phone rang. He was tempted to ignore it, but he reached down and checked.

Damien Grimm.

Wolfe stared at the phone for a moment, but finally stepped a bit away from Billy in the darkened warehouse and then hit ‘accept.’ He placed the phone to his ear.

“Wolfe here.”

“Ethan,” Damien said, causing Wolfe to grit his teeth. “I hear you captured one of the Cobras.”

“Yeah, Billy Jenson. The jackass that murdered your uncle, Heinrick. I got him.”

There was a brief pause on the other side in which the receiver was obviously covered, then Damian said, “I need you to let him go.”

“What?” Wolfe said, stunned. Let him go?

“Yeah. I heard you snatched him from the Lucky Fifty-Two, beat up some of the Reinfeldt family guys. They’re pissed, threatening a street war. If we let him go, no harm, no foul, and I can smooth everything over.”

“No one got hurt,” Wolfe said.

There was another pause of silence, then Damian said, “Well, two of their guys got beat up pretty badly, and one has a fractured skull. Besides, I have more important matters to discuss with you then some low-ranking thug.”

Low-ranking thug? Wolfe thought, reflecting that he felt behind the curve on everything that was happening. How is the guy that murdered Heinrick a low-ranking thug?

“I don’t know if I can do that, Damien. I mean, he killed Heinrick.”

“Ethan, your loyalty is your primary attribute, and I assure you it’ll be your primary attribute going forward, once I oversee the family. Don’t throw that away now.”

Wolfe seethed. He was loyal to Big Man Grimm because of what Big Man Grimm had done for him, and because of who Big Man Grimm was. He wasn’t loyal to his entitled little shit kid.

But Wolfe didn’t want to cause problems until he could speak to Big Man Grimm himself. “I’m always loyal to the Grimm family.”

“Good. That’s what I want to hear from my best hunting dog. But you need to release this one back into the wild.”

Way to really milk an insulting metaphor, asshole.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

“What’s the other thing you needed to talk to me about?” Wolfe asked.

“Well, two things, actually. Have you found my brother? I’m worried about him. I hear the Cobras are out to get him.”

“Not yet.”

“Be sure to call me if you do,” Damien said.

“Sure. What’s the other thing?”

Slight panting came from the phone. “I found out where one of the special cards is—Jason Klaus has it. And better, I’ve learned about a disgruntled member of his inner circle that’s willing to help me kill the head of the Cobras.”

Holy shit! “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Dad declared open season on the Cobras, right?” Damien asked.

Big Man Grimm did declare that. “Yeah.”

“Well, there you are. What better way to make war on the family then to kill its head? Now, I have some details. If you make this happen for me, I’ll give you any cards from Klaus’ deck that I don’t need for my own—fair?”

So generous, so kind. “Yeah, sure. What’re the details?”

“In three days, the Cobras are putting on an internal, underground MMA event. Their entire leadership will be attendance, to watch a few of their enforcers beat the shit out of each other for their leader’s amusement. The event is literally underground as well as being illegal. It’s being put on in the basement of the Two Fang motorcycle bar.”

Wolfe knew of the place—it had been one of the very first places the Cobras had risen to prominence.

“And my role is?” Wolfe asked.

“We have an insider that wants to dispose of Klaus—your old friend, Nico. He’s agreed that he’ll keep security light. There is a sewer tunnel right to the side. I want you to mine the thing with high explosives to take out the Cobras leadership—its entire heart—in a single hit. The Grimm family can pick the pieces up afterward.”

Wolfe was metaphorically floored. That is a plan that requires some brass balls.

The Cobras and the Grimm family—hell, all the families—had taken a few swipes at each other over the years. But mostly, they had gotten along, jointly running crime and bribing the guardians not to do much about it. But the Cobras had decided to start a war and had mostly been winning it, thanks to their information and timing. But apparently the wretched dwarf had flipped it, and now, the Grimm family potentially had the upper hand.

And what an upper hand it was, if real.

“I’ll make it happen.”

“See that you do,” Damien said. “This is the most important thing we’re doing. Get those cards for me, Ethan. Your future employment prospects depend on it.”

Wolfe, who had briefly forgotten what an entitled little shit Damien was, frowned at his phone. He responded very poorly to being threatened. I need to have a talk with Big Man Grimm about his son soon.

“Heard,” was all Wolfe responded.

“So, let Billy go so I can smooth things over with the Renfeldt family, let me know when you find my brother, and start prepping to explode the basement. Got it?”

Wolfe gritted his teeth. “Yeah, I got it, Damien.”

“Good.” Damien hung up without a further word.

Wolfe stared at Billy, tapping his foot. Then he pulled his last cigarette out and lit it up, taking a drag on it, thinking about everything he’d heard. It felt as if Damien was taking over more and more of the business, and for whatever reason, Big Man Grimm seemed distracted and out of the loop both—maybe he was just getting old.

Theoretically Wolfe should be happy, but in his heart, he knew that Damien wasn’t the man Big Man Grimm was. Damien believed power was his by right, and he hurt innocent people all the time. Grimm believed you had to earn power, and had a certain amount of honor and restraint to him, even if he also had an Infernal deck.

Still, Big Man Grimm was in charge for the moment. Wolfe dialed his phone.

No answer. Fuck. It was extremely uncommon for the big guy to be unavailable at this time of day.

Not sure what to do, Wolfe called Guinevere, Big Man Grimm’s wife.

“Hello? Wolfe? Did you find Thad Junior?” she asked without waiting for him to speak.

“Um, not, not yet. Sorry. Do you know where your husband is please?” Wolfe asked, wincing as he admitted he hadn’t located her son.

But she didn’t fly off the handle about her son. “My husband is out with his little Asian slut, although he doesn’t know that I know. You won’t be able to reach him right now. Why? What’s going on?”

Big Man Grimm was cheating? Wolfe was floored—in the twenty years that Wolfe had worked for the head of the family, there had never been so much as a whiff of scandal in his sexual life—he had always been loyal to his wife.

Wolfe was a bit sad, as a great man dropped slightly in his eyes.

“Do you know where he is?” Wolfe asked.

“No, I haven’t ascertained where my husband is fucking another girl—one younger than his own sons, I might add. Why is it so important?”

Gods be damned. Wolfe had orders, but now he had countermanding orders… and no way to reach Big Man Grimm.

He decided to hedge his bets. No one could be mad if he got a third opinion when the two conflicted—he hoped. He was almost positive Big Man Grimm would forgive him at least.

“I, uh, have the man that murdered Heinrick. Your husband told me to kill him, but Damien said it was causing problems with the Renfeldt family, and to let him go. I was looking to make sure that was okay.”

“Just do what my son said,” Guinevere said. “He knows what he’s doing, which is more than I can say for you—since you should be finding poor lost Thad right now! Or at least taking care of Ms. Greenwall’s rat problem! I swear, Wolfe, sometimes I don’t know what my husband sees in you.”

Wolfe exhaled cigarette smoke forcefully, his hand trembling in rage. He took a moment to master himself. “I’ll get right on it.”

Wolfe hung the phone up this time before she could say anything else.

Then he walked over to Billy and took the keys out.

He stared down at the disgusting waste of a human body before him. “Looks like the bosses decided to keep you alive after all. Stay out of our territory, clear?”

He put the cigarette in his mouth and undid the thug’s hands.

As Billy’s hands came free, he gently massaged his fingers, wincing. “Yeah man, fuck. You didn’t have to be such a dick about it. You broke my fingers.”

Wolfe wasn’t sure if he had or hadn’t and couldn’t care less. “You murdered Heinrick and a working girl, you got off light.”

He threw the keys into Billy’s lap—he could get his own damn legs free. Then Wolfe took a drag on his cigarette. He needed to calm himself. Rage could get a man killed in this business.

“Who gives a fuck?” Billy asked, brow furrowed in what appeared to be genuine confusion as he undid the cuffs on his legs. “I followed orders on Heinrich, and the girl is just some dumb bitch that doesn’t matter. She’s not like you and me.”

She’s not evil, Wolfe thought, blowing cigarette smoke down on Billy. The real trait we share. She’s just some random victim.

Billy stood. “Give me my gun back.”

Wolfe laughed out loud. “Fuck you.” Not about to give the punk a chance for unsanctioned revenge.

“Alright, take me back.”

Wolfe took a last drag on his cigarette then dropped it to the floor and ground it out. “That’s also a giant fuck you. Orders were to free you, not be your gods damned Uber. I’ve got things to do.”

Wolfe stomped from the warehouse and out to the car, where Shel was waiting for him, her expression downcast.

“He’s alive, let’s get the hell out of here,” Wolfe said, entering the driver’s seat and slamming the door closed.

Shel stared at Wolfe with wide eyes and then got in the passenger side, slowly and quietly.

They drove away from the warehouse.