Chapter 29 Marcus
MARCUS
Standing at the top of the stairs, Marcus adjusted the sight on his rifle as he crouched down, ready and waiting.
He figured his best chance of success was to set up at the top of the stairs; this way, he could see the bedroom, the front door, the living room, and part of the kitchen.
It was impossible for him to cover all corners of the cottage, but he figured these were the few strategically important places he needed to defend.
He didn’t need to kill them all; he just needed to hold them off until the rest of his crew arrived.
Judging by the sheer number of men coming to attack them, Marcus figured it must be a rival crew seeking revenge or taking advantage of a vulnerable opportunity to take him out.
They must not be aware of the rest of his crew lurking in the shadows and keeping an eye on things.
That only left one question: How did they know that he was out here, alone, in the cottage?
Crouching in the shadows, Marcus waited for his attackers to make the first move.
The cottage was dark except for the tiny slivers of moonlight that streamed in through the open windows. Some might call the lighting romantic. Others, unsettling. To him, it was perfect, offering just enough light to track the shadows while keeping him safely concealed.
A creak on the front porch betrayed someone’s position.
Marcus cocked his rifle and fired. The blast tore through the front door, wood exploding outward as the figure beyond it dropped with a painful cry.
“Shit!” someone said from the other side of the door, followed by what sounded like several men scrambling for cover.
Marcus smirked. That’s right. Who’s next, motherfuckers?
He didn’t have to wait long.
The window in the living room shattered as two men dressed in black jumped through the window and began shooting in all directions.
Amateurs.
Marcus pumped his rifle once again and fired two shots at the idiots currently murdering his living room. Both men dropped to the floor, dead from multiple shots to the chest.
Three down. Several more to go.
The next thing he knew, chaos erupted. Glass shattered behind him, then two more windows exploded in the kitchen below. The front door crashed open, while three men rushed the corner, weapons raised and eyes searching for their target.
Whirling around, Marcus opened fire on two men scaling the upstairs windows. One got hit, dropping his assault rifle and clutching his arm.
The second man returned fire, causing Marcus to leap to the other side of the hallway, ducking quickly behind a small table he used as a decoration.
The wood exploded in front of him.
Okay. Perhaps that was not the most intelligent spot to hide.
Marcus dove to the other side of the hall, returning fire at the man trying to murder his bloody ass.
He still couldn’t tell which fuckers were trying to kill him.
He had a feeling it was the New Mexico Greens.
He had humiliated their leader a few weeks ago, so he wouldn’t be surprised if this was their boss’s way of trying to prove that he actually has balls.
But when you are part of the criminal underworld, you never really know who your true enemies are.
Something exploded downstairs. Most likely a result of a grenade that had been thrown.
Man, these guys really meant business. It was almost flattering that it took this many men—and this much firepower—just to try to take him down. Marcus felt his pride flare, his peacock feathers ruffling.
Because Marcus was never one to back down from a fight, he jumped to his feet and began shooting at the men down the hall.
Pain-filled cries and the agonizing sounds of death followed, indicating to Marcus that his targets were no longer threats.
“Marcus! We’re here!” Blade shouted from somewhere downstairs.
Something that sounded like metal cutting through air could be heard, which was suddenly silenced by the gut-wrenching sounds of a man who was drowning in his own blood.
Marcus smiled. It sounded like Blade got his target.
“Get your ass down here!” Ace shouted between bursts of rapid fire, followed by shouts and crashes as people fell dead, apparently taking plates and other breakable items with them that Marcus would surely have to clean up once all this bullshit was done.
“Marcus!” Ace shouted again.
“Yes! Coming. Just have to grab Gavin,” Marcus shouted down to his brother, dodging a bullet that nearly took off his head. He took off running down the hallway back to his bedroom.
Once Marcus reached the door, he turned the knob, then slammed his body against it to push it open.
The door moved slightly.
What the fuck?
Marcus peeked through the tiny opening.
“Gav. Open up. It’s me,” Marcus called, twisting his neck as he tried to see around the door and into the bedroom.
Nothing. No answer.
“What the fuck?” Marcus gulped, pushing against the door like he was the Hulk and the door was a piece of paper.
Adrenalin can be powerful.
The door flew open.
Marcus stepped inside and looked around the room.
Nothing.
The room was empty and quiet.
Not even Puppy was found, bouncing around or nipping at his ankles.
Where the fuck was he?
A soft, warm breeze blew across his face, drawing his attention to the large open window.
Did he…?
Marcus ran to the window in a panic and glanced out.
Outside, the attack continued. Men were shooting, and bodies were falling.
They took him! Marcus thought to himself. He glanced around at the chaos but couldn’t see his black head of sunshine anywhere.
His stomach dropped as his mind started racing.
Who knows what kind of sick and twisted things whoever these guys were had planned for the young man he’d spent weeks protecting?
Anger and nausea flooded his system.
One thing was certain: He was going to take his time murdering whoever broke into his house and kidnapped the one man who had taken hold of his heart.
“Marcus!” Ace shouted once again.
More gunfire erupted.
These men were dead.
Running to the closet, Marcus grabbed the second assault rifle he hadn’t had a chance to grab earlier.
Eye’s narrowing, he ground his teeth. It was time to blow off some fucking heads.
Anger fueling his muscles, Marcus ran into the hallway to take out his revenge.
Forgetting that he was human and not a muscle-clad superhero, Marcus leaped over the banister and landed on the hardwood floor of his living room below.
He had to admit that the move was fucking awesome. Too bad the rest of the guys weren’t there to see it. Perhaps he could show them the security feeds later on.
Marcus opened fire, taking out two surprised men, before diving behind the sofa, which was nothing more than shattered wood and floating fabric.
“Marcus, behind you!” Blade shouted from the kitchen doorway as he threw two blades at a man approaching Marcus from the other side of the sofa.
The blades found their mark—one striking the man in the chest, the other his eye. His body convulsed before collapsing to the floor, blood spreading quickly beneath him.
Blade was a killer shot. He’d been trained by the best—his father, who also tried to kill him—and he never missed.
“Nice shot.” Marcus jumped to his feet, then jogged over to where Ace and Blade were waiting.
“Where’s Gavin?” Ace asked, glancing around the room.
“They took him,” Marcus growled, pissed and ready to pull apart some limbs. “Where are the others?”
“Outside, cleaning up the garbage,” Blade answered, walking over to the man lying dead in the living room and pulling his blade free from his eye. He wiped the man’s blood and brain matter on the thigh of his jeans.
He didn’t seem to care that he was now walking around with someone’s DNA and probably last thoughts smeared all over the surface of his leg.
“They couldn’t have gotten far with Gavin. I only left him alone for ten minutes. Let’s go,” Marcus said, rushing toward the front door and leaping over two bodies whose faces were now splattered across the stone walkway.
God. He’d have to pressure wash his home just to wash away the remnants of a failed murder attempt.
Fuck!
Outside, the world around him was at war. Caden, Nikolai, and Jake were crouched behind trees, shooting at men approaching from the east.
Across the yard, Midas drove his fists into a man with brutal force. Blood and spit stained his knuckles as a maddened smile spread across his face. There was no hesitation in him, no restraint. Some men were born for chaos and violence. Midas was one of those men.
To his left, Marcus heard shouting. His head snapped to the side just in time to see a massive stream of fire lighting up much of his front yard.
Men dived for cover, others burst into flames.
“Die, motherfuckers!” Lucas shouted, holding a flamethrower in his hands as he attempted to barbecue every gang member he spotted outside of Marcus’s cottage.
“What the fu—” Marcus began before diving to the ground, narrowly missing the stream of fire as it passed by his face.
“Oh, where’d you go?” Lucas shouted. “Why are you running? Thought you big, bad gangsters wanted to come out and play?” Lucas taunted before shooting another stream of fire toward two men cowering behind a large boulder on the front lawn.
One of the men made the unfortunate mistake of lifting his head too soon to see if the crazy fire-starting twink was still on their assess.
The man lit up like a Christmas tree.
Fire took hold of his head and spread fast, swallowing his chest and legs.
Marcus watched in fascination as the man ran blindly through the yard, screaming as the flames engulfed his body.
“What? Can’t take the heat?” Lucas shouted, firing another stream at the second man still cowering behind the boulder. “You bitches think you can come out here and try to murder my friends? I don’t fucking think so.”
Another stream of fire.
Lucas began walking toward the second man, murder and rage glistening in the flames reflected in his eyes.
Marcus glanced over at Ace, who was still taking cover from Lucas’s wild fire attack.
“Okay, I think we need to get that boy some counseling. Clearly, he’s got a lot of pent-up anger,” Marcus noted.
Ace nodded in agreement.
“We got him! Over here!” Nikolai shouted from somewhere across the property.
Marcus sprang to his feet, hoping to see Gavin’s smiling face staring back at him.
Instead, he saw two men, on their knees, hands behind their heads, staring up at Niko and Jake, who were holding them both at gunpoint.
Marcus walked over to the men.
It was just as he’d suspected. This whole attack had been led by Rowan and his crew. A poor man’s attempt at revenge.
All this was because he had humiliated the leader of the New Mexico Greens in front of his men. But what other choice did he have? He could have killed the man, he guessed.
Truth be told, at the time, he was too distracted by Gavin coming to live with him to deal with the headache of taking out a crew leader, then dealing with the shitstorm that usually followed.
Showing the man who the true alpha was seemed like the easier option.
“I should have known,” Marcus said, staring down at his rival and competition. “Hate to say it, but you failed. You can’t even get revenge right. I’m still alive, and my men have kicked your crew’s asses.”
“Woo-hoo!” Lucas screeched as he chased another man down to the water, a stream of fire scorching the terrified man’s ass as he ran for his life.
Marcus tried not to laugh. That boy had issues.
“I might have failed to get my revenge, but he didn’t,” Rowan said with a toothy smile.
Marcus’s stomach dropped. “What do you mean?”
“Might want to check on your boyfriend,” the man said, chuckling darkly. “Who would have guessed that the big bad Marcus liked to swallow dick?”
Rage taking over, Marcus grabbed Rowan by the shirt collar and yanked him to his feet. The man went flying upward, like he didn’t weigh a thing.
Staring into the man’s eyes, Marcus sneered back at him. “What did you do?”
Smirking, Rowan shrugged his shoulders.
“I just kept you busy while that psychopath snatched your boy. Did you know that he’s killed over six young men?
The Valentine Killer. I believe that’s what the newspapers are calling him.
Quite frankly, I support the crazy psycho’s efforts.
That’s six fewer faggots in this world to worry about.
I was more than happy to lend a hand when he approached me and offered to team up. ”
“You still failed,” Marcus snarled, rage snapping through him as he drove his fist into the man’s face.
He continued to beat the man, over and over, blood flying everywhere as Marcus crushed the man’s face. It was because of this piece of shit that Gavin’s life was now in danger.
The world fell away as Marcus’s mind disconnected from his body. All that remained was pure rage and violence.
It wasn’t until Ace’s voice finally cut through the haze that Marcus realized he was standing over Rowan’s crushed skull.
The man was dead.
“We gotta find Gavin,” Ace shouted, bringing Marcus back into focus.
“Give me a gun,” Marcus snarled, extending his hand toward Jake, who handed him a 9mm.
A stream of red caught Marcus’s eye.
Lucas was down by the water, firing his flamethrower like he was trying to burn every mosquito that dared haunt the place.
“Lucas! Stop trying to burn down my cottage and get your ass over here!” Marcus shouted, walking with the guys toward their bikes.
They were about to go hunting, and their prey already had a head start.