Aden

Chapter Nineteen

Aden

It wasn't hard getting her uncle alone. His schedule and routine were the same shit every day. Wake up at eight, have breakfast, and then headed to the department store he owned. His wife was your average stay-at-home wife.

She cleaned, cooked, and took care of his children, including dropping them off at school and picking them up. His eldest son was the only one that tagged along with him to the store.

His son was an idiot just like his father and I wonder if his father knew just how many girls his idiot son was fucking.

They spoke of religion, of God, of right and wrong yet they were all hypocritical bastards in the end. I had Mac with me tagging him and it was all planned. We'd catch him when his supposedly religious son went to pray.

His sons version of praying was fucking the daughter of the man who owned the dry cleaners down the street.

Mac didn't need to know all the details. All he needed to know is that man, Farhad, was going to die tonight. I respected Mac for his loyalty, his strength, and skill set from when he was a cop. He was a good man as long as he never spoke to Leila in his life.

I still remember the pure rage I felt when he claimed she belonged to The Sinners. She didn't belong to the MC. She belonged to me.

"TC," He spoke leaning back in the driver's seat. "It'll be easy to catch him right now, but he does know my face. We don't need a panic or a scene when we catch him. He doesn't know yours, though."

I rubbed my chin at the thought. "You're right. Listen, I don't want this car anywhere near the scene. How fast can you head back and bring Camo's white truck?"

He looked down at his watch. "Fifteen minutes, TC."

"In fifteen minutes, you and Camo better be in the loading area in the back. We checked it out last night, so we know there're no cameras. Fifteen minutes, Mac." I repeated.

"Fifteen minutes." He nodded and I stepped out. "You want my gun in case?" He asked, flashing me his weapon.

"No, I hate guns."

"Okay, be safe." He said, and then he was driving out of the lot.

I grabbed the sides of my hoodie and threw it on as I walked past the empty lot and toward the sliding doors. It was empty inside as well. Not many customers. Iranian music played over the stereos, and I walked through the aisles.

Hafez would head out to "pray" in five minutes, giving me ten minutes to lure his piece of shit father to the back. I kept my eyes on the cashier as I pretended to shop, and look interested in their clothes.

I walked around slowly my eyes going to the cashier and the clock on the wall. I heard his voice a minute before the five minutes were up and I peered up to see him grabbing his prayer mat.

His father smiled and nodded his head at him, and it gave me a minute extra. I pretended I was lost as I passed by the cashier, making sure he saw me, as I walked into the storage area.

"Hey! Hey! Where are you going?"

I heard his voice, but I ignored him as I made my way to the metal garage. I looked around and luck was on my side as I saw that no one was in the back.

"Hey!" He shouted again and I spun around. "This is storage." He explained, his eyes squinting as he looked at me. "Do I know you?"

"No," I said. "I'm looking for Hafez."

"How do you know my son's name?" He asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Friends."

"Hafez never mentioned you. What's your name?"