Largo

Fucking hell! Kooper was here. Just fucking great. Not one fucking day off. Damn it to the nine hells and back. I turned to Omarion to get him out of the club only to see him chop the big shit house in the front, grab his arm and fold his ass on to the floor.

“Shit!”

“Largo! Get the mark.”

Whitehall was wide eyes as I threw my drink in his eyes before I punched him in the throat hard enough to end his ass quick. I got my datapad out taking a quick picture of him and sending it to our client.

Omarion was on the floor finishing off the Invader with a lightning fists to the invaders face. He got up as the bouncers came at us. Lightning Baby’s touch was on him. His right arm was touched with lightning. His gaze was directed toward where Kooper and his brats stood in the entrance. “LB gave me a job.”

I shook my head. “No way, bro.”

“You shit head nomads need to get the fuck out of here. There’s the door.”

Nomads?! Ah shit! That’s just what we didn’t need.

“Order or death. How do you plead?”

A chill went down my spine at the cold as steal words. I glanced behind over to Omarion to see a P9 Authority pistol pointed at the right side of his right temple by black leather wearing dude with dark sunglasses and dark presence.

The judge Bran Rafe stood aiming the pistol at my brother.

“Order. Request you take me in.” Omarion said.

“Granted. You and your brother are coming with me. Hands behind your back. You to Largo.”

I did as ordered but I had one thought. “How the fuck did he know my name?”