Chapter 11 Marcus
MARCUS
The air was thick and muggy and clung to Marcus’s lungs like a thick layer of honey he just couldn’t swallow, no matter how hard he tried.
It was early afternoon, and the sun was bearing down on Marcus and the guys as they sat outside the waste management landfill, watching the New Mexico Greens drink their beers and laugh at their stupid jokes.
The New Mexico Greens was a local street gang that dealt in drugs and petty robbery. They were a smaller crew, just starting out, with maybe nine or ten neighborhoods under their thumb. They were relatively new to Marcus, having done business with them only twice so far.
Amateurs.
Sitting on his bike, Marcus watched the men as he pulled off his riding gloves one by one.
He’d been contemplating what sort of approach he should use this whole ride over.
Should he give Rowan, the leader of the New Mexico Greens, just a warning? Verbally remind him of what happens to people who disrespect and talk shit about him and his crew?
Or should he take more extreme measures and physically show the New Mexico Greens exactly what happens to leaders when they piss off the head of the Shadow Vipers motorcycle gang?
The more he thought about it, the more scenario number two made sense.
He’d shown mercy before, and look how that turned out.
It was twelve years ago when the Shadow Vipers paid a visit to one of the local drug dealers who was behind on three of his payments. Marcus met with the man to discuss the missed payments and what should be done.
The dealer had begged for an extension, saying that his kids were sick and he needed the money to pay for hospital visits, which was why he didn’t have the money he owed just yet.
Feeling sorry for the guy, Marcus decided to give the man a two-week extension, while forgiving the interest owed on the outstanding debt.
The dealer was grateful and thanked Marcus profusely.
But that act of kindness was to be rewarded with blood.
Two weeks later, Marcus sent three of his crew members to Colorado to deliver an order of guns a local drug dealer had purchased.
That dealer had heard of Marcus’s… compassion and decided that he really didn’t need to pay for all the merchandise he had purchased from Marcus.
Instead, he killed two of Marcus’s men, then sent the third man home to give a big fuck you to the man of compassion.
Realizing in that moment that compassion and mercy did not bode well in the criminal underworld, Marcus decided that business was business, and he would never show mercy or compassion to another man he was doing business with again.
He was the head of the Shadow Vipers and needed to protect his crew. And the best way to do that was through fear and intimidation.
So, option two it was: Show Rowan’s crew what happens to leaders when they fuck with the head of the Shadow Vipers.
“So, how do you want to play this?” Caden asked, sitting on his bike next to Nikolai.
Nikolai was loading his gun as he sat there waiting for Marcus’s response.
“Want us to go in there first? Clear out the place for you?” Jake asked, pushing his light-brown hair back before spitting into the dirt next to his bike.
“Nah. This is my fight. I say we ride up in there, guns blazing. I’ll have a little one-on-one with Rowan, then his crew can watch as I beat the piss out of the little piece of shit.
Remind them what happens to assholes who cross the leader of the Shadow Vipers,” Marcus explained, smirking as all his men cheered back at him.
No mercy.
“No killing. Just wound the motherfuckers. We want them to be able to spread the word about tonight.” Marcus smiled. “Let’s ride.” Marcus kicked up his sidestand before bringing his bike to life with a monstrous roar.
He floored it, leading his men straight to the landfill’s entrance.
A few men started to yell when they spotted Marcus and his crew riding right for them in a cloud of dirt and dust. They didn’t have much time or warning before Marcus and his crew crashed through the flimsy fence and began opening fire on all of them.
Men fell to the ground, clutching their knees and gripping their arms. Guns lay scattered around as men dropped them in pain and agony.
Following Marcus’s instructions, his men weren’t killing them, just incapacitating them, so they were fuckin’ useless in defending their leader. The real prize was their leader.
“Hey, hey, boys!” Marcus shouted as he rolled in, firing shots at anything that moved.
Blood splattered everywhere as, one by one, men fell and writhed in pain.
Their entrance was spectacular. A bunch of badass bikers, rolling in, shooting at any motherfucker who wasn’t a Shadow Viper.
Talk about gangster.
Finally, Marcus came to a stop in front of their leader. Pointing his gun at the man, Marcus had to laugh at how fucking dumb he was. He had been sitting in a lounge chair, chugging back beers without so much as a gun within arm’s reach.
That was rookie mistake number one. Never be more than a few inches from a gun or weapon. In their line of work, one always needed to be prepared for hell’s fire to rain down on them.
Rookie mistake number two? Bad-mouthing criminals who lived within driving distance of where you lived.
“Move another muscle, and I’ll blow your fuckin’ head off,” Marcus growled, shifting his bike into first, then kicking down his sidestand. He turned off his motorcycle, then stepped off the beast, with Nikolai right by his side.
“So, I hear you like talking smack about me and my crew?” Marcus asked, passing Nikolai his gun as he began walking toward the angry man.
Judging by his lack of weapons, the man wasn’t much of a threat to Marcus.
Those who’d been smart enough to keep their guns within arm’s reach had also been disarmed and were now sitting… or standing, listening to Marcus and his crew bark orders at each of them.
“Not sure what you heard, but I don’t appreciate you assholes rolling up in here and attacking my men. Seems kind of pansy to be shooting at men who aren’t even prepared,” Rowan growled, his eyes throwing daggers at Marcus as he approached.
Marcus stopped in front of him and knelt so they were face-to-face.
“It’s not my fault that your crew is a joke and ill-prepared for an attack. We’re criminals, not the UN. You want fair? Go join a tennis league.”
Caden and the guys behind him chuckled.
Marcus’s jaw tightened as he took in the bratty face of the man who had trash-talked him and his crew. Fuck this cunt and his motherfuckin’ crew. Marcus grabbed the man by his shirt.
“I hear you’ve been telling people that I shorted you on our last delivery. That I charged you more than other crews and didn’t deliver half the products I said I would.”
Rowan’s eyes flicked to the men around him. His crew remained silent, either too frightened or unwilling to assist their boss and leader.
“What? I said, nothin’ like that,” the man spat out.
His body was trembling under Marcus’s grip.
He’d seen the signs before—men in power at the mercy of someone much stronger than them. It was hard to take, but even harder to endure when displayed so publicly, especially in front of one’s own crew.
It was hard to maintain power when beaten down by another alpha. The pack tended not to follow betas.
It had to be done.
No mercy or compassion.
Marcus had learned that the hard way.
Letting out a growl, Marcus tugged the man up to his feet.
“I’m going to show you what happens to people who disrespect the Shadow Vipers,” Marcus snarled.
His jaw tightened, and his mind fell away as he began beating the shit out of the crew leader in front of his own men.
Word would get out of Marcus’s cruelty and savagery, once again solidifying his role and position as a man not to be messed with.
The Shadow Vipers were a crew to be respected and feared.
Knuckles bloodied and sore, Marcus finally dropped the battered man into the dirt at his feet. He held out his hand to Niko, who passed him back his gun.
He lifted the gun and pointed it at the man’s head.
“Let this be a lesson to you all. This is what happens when you cross the Shadow Vipers. Next time, I’ll put a bullet in your head.” With that, Marcus released the empty chamber of his gun, causing the beaten man to startle.
Another piece of humiliation thrown at a man who challenged his honor.
He knew he had made an enemy of the man kneeling before him, humiliated. But that was their life.
Criminals didn’t get into their line of work to be loved and make friends. They did it for power and money.
And Marcus had both.
Fear came at a cost. Marcus needed to do what was necessary to keep his men safe and ensure the success of his crew and family.
“Let’s go, boys,” Marcus called, throwing his leg back over his Harley.
They had a long ride home, and he wanted to make a quick stop along the way.