“Listen, before we get into all of that, I think we should have the Scorpions’ Harleys disposed of. Can your people take care of that like now? Just in case their supreme leader decides to take it on the lam without waiting for darkness,” Jack said.

“I already gave the order. One of my people is picking up the ambulance I left in Annie’s parking spot, and they’ll fit as many of the Harleys as they can in the back. It’s just a shell vehicle, so there’s plenty of room, but it will still require two trips. Possibly three. That’s why I said there was a change in plans. And before you can ask, yes, I have operatives watching the Cricket house in case the Scorpions opt to skedaddle before dark. This is just a wild guess on my part, but I don’t think the Scorpions trust Mr. Meadows any more than he trusts them.”

“I think you’re right, Avery,” Charles said. “What do we need from him that we aren’t getting from his laptop and cell phone?”

“The names of the Scorpion members as well as the names of the Lobos members he’s in contact with,” Jack said as he drew a deep breath. “And we need the records of . . . of tenants he had killed and dismembered, and where we can find their remains.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, and I don’t know any members of the Lobos. You have this all wrong,” Meadows bellowed.

“Really! Do you seriously think we believe that?” Maggie snapped. “You need to get it through your head—it’s over. You lost. We won. We caught you. By tonight, we’ll have all of the Scorpions and those Lobos members under lock and key. Mr. Cricket is talking. If you help us, maybe we can help you. Or not.”

Meadows tried to inch his way farther from Cyrus to avoid the dog’s hot breath on his neck. In his whole life, he’d never been this scared. These people were crazy, and the damn dog seemed like a human robot more vicious than Alonzo Santiago and the Lobos members. Was it really over? He perked up a bit when he thought these people still needed him. Maybe he could negotiate. Such wishful thinking. These people would not negotiate. Not now. Not ever. And yet here he was, alive and more or less unharmed, which was the proof they still needed him. His mind raced. What to say, what to give them? He squeezed his eyes shut so he wouldn’t have to look at the killer dog fixated on him.