Chapter 10 #2
“Caesar didn’t double-cross the club.” He pauses and swallows hard. “It was Brick. He’s feeding intel to the Disciples.”
Tank leaps to his feet, murder in his dark-brown gaze. “What the fuck you say?”
Fuck me. Caesar leads the Latin Maniacs—a fast-growing street gang with ties across several states. Zeus supplies the firepower they and other criminal groups need to protect their territories for a steep sum. It was a shaky alliance, but it worked until three weeks ago.
Five of our brothers went to deliver guns.
None came back. Slaughtered. The weapons, gone.
Caesar swore innocence, asserting his people arrived at the meeting location after the bloodbath.
Efforts to locate the merch and uncover the truth led to a dead end.
The brotherhood couldn’t take Caesar at his word and let the slaying of five Gods go unpunished. Blood had to spill.
We hit back hard. His crew lost twice what we did, ending the business arrangement and igniting a war. Now Buffalo’s saying Brick sold us out to the Disciples instead. If true, we’re in deeper shit than we thought.
An alliance broken and a possible snake in our midst. Mistrust is bound to spread and chip away at the brotherhood’s once-ironclad bond.
This isn’t just bad. This is catastrophic.
“Let him finish,” Jigsaw says, his stern tone brooking no argument. He’s a no-nonsense type of motherfucker. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him crack a smile.
His aquamarine gaze shifts to Buffalo, waiting for him to continue.
The healed lacerations dominating Jigsaw’s rugged features resemble a puzzle, hence his road name.
In addition to ensuring club laws and rules are upheld, he used to handle Zeus’s kill orders until I inherited his unofficial secondary position.
Jigsaw was far more ruthless in the role.
He prolonged the agony until his victims begged for a bullet.
The tragic story behind his horrific disfigurement is a mystery. That hasn’t stopped the speculations, though. Zeus is probably the only person who actually knows the truth. A confidence he’d never betray. They’ve had each other’s backs since basic training.
“I overheard Brick on his cell talking all whisper-like,” Buffalo recounts to the group. “I could tell he was real pissed—”
“Get to the fucking point, Buffalo,” Zeus growls.
“I heard Brick say, ‘That wasn’t the deal, Spider. You promised me a quarter mil for the guns.’”
“Hearsay,” Draco protests, skepticism evident in his voice. “Do you have any proof to corroborate your story?”
It’s hard to believe Buffalo would fabricate a claim like this, especially against his own cousin and roommate.
They were patched in together. What would he even gain from lying?
Nothing, as far as I know. The decision to come forward must’ve been a difficult one, knowing the revelation would result in Brick’s death sentence.
And it’s no secret Spider has a personal vendetta aimed squarely at Zeus. His ragtag MC, the Lawless Disciples, ruled the heroin and gun trade around here until Zeus rolled into Kent and gutted his empire in under a year. Blood painted the streets.
In the end, Spider folded. Been lying low ever since, licking his wounds. But maybe now he figured it’s time to slink out of the shadows and make a power play. Bad move. He doesn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell.
“No,” he admits. “I could try to get his cell phone, but he has the face recognition and passcode lock on.”
“Bring it to me,” Snake offers, interlacing his fingers on the table. “I can unlock it, no sweat.” At seventeen, Snake is already a tech genius. No title, but he’s on the board. Being the president’s son gets you perks.
“What if he notices it’s missing?” Butch questions. “He could get spooked and be gone with the wind.”
As the club treasurer, Butch cleans the cash and keeps our finances in order. At sixty-two, he’s also the oldest member of the brotherhood, but he’s still a force to be reckoned with.
“Where is he now?” I ask Buffalo.
“Still at home,” he replies, leaning back and propping his elbows on the armrests. “Said he wasn’t going out till later.”
“You four, head over there now. Check his call log, text messages, voicemails, emails… leave no stone unturned. Nip this situation in the bud tonight,” Zeus orders, then looks at me. “There’s only one place for a rat.”
I dip my head, acknowledging the unspoken order. “Say less.”
Zeus slams the gavel down and we disperse. The night is about to get bloody, and bloody is what I do best.
I swing the driver’s side door shut and join the others on the sidewalk. We took the SUV instead of riding our bikes—better to catch Brick off guard. The night is still. No nosy neighbors. No witnesses.
In grim silence, we start toward the deteriorating single-family home.
It’s a wonder this place hasn’t been condemned.
I’m betting a strong wind would blow the peeling wooden structure clear across the county line.
The lawn, if you can even call it that, is predominantly dirt and overgrown weeds.
A weathered garden duck is the sole adornment.
Buffalo slowly opens the rusted chain-link fence surrounding the property, and we follow behind him with quiet footsteps. It’s dark inside the house, save for the dim light visible through the curtains hanging over the window to the left.
My hands buzz. Heart hammering. I love this part. Killing hits like a high. Twisted? No doubt, but damn if it doesn’t get my dick granite hard.
We scuttle up the rickety porch steps and stealthily enter the house, turning into the scarcely furnished living room.
There, we find our target conked out on the tan leather sofa, snoring loudly and mouth agape.
A commercial for a popular fast-food restaurant plays on the muted flat-screen television.
I perch on the coffee table, pulling a Glock from my shoulder holster. Another Glock is strapped to my ankle, and a knife rests at my hip. My holy trinity.
Cricket grabs the half-empty beer bottle next to me and dumps the amber liquid over Brick’s face. “Wakey, wakey, motherfucker.”
He sputters, lurching to a sitting position. “What the fuck?”
“Sorry for disturbing your beauty rest,” Snake retorts sarcastically.
Brick’s wide gaze darts between us, anger quickly morphing to trepidation. “What’s going on, boys?”
“Give me your phone,” Snake states, motioning for him to hand it over.
“Why?” He chuckles nervously, his beady eyes glued to my firearm. “Did you lose yours?”
I latch onto the fucker’s scrawny neck and yank him to the edge of the sofa. “Where is it?”
“On the charger,” he croaks, grappling for air. “In the kitchen.”
“See, that wasn’t so hard,” I quip and shove him away from me.
Cricket retrieves the device and tosses it to him. “Unlock it.”
“What’s this about?” he asks, sweat forming on his blotchy forehead.
I slide my finger over the trigger. “Unlock it. Now.”
He scurries to obey, prompted by the unspoken threat. Snake plucks the mobile from his trembling grasp and begins searching for the smoking gun. Brick looks to Buffalo for help, but his cousin planted himself in a corner and noticeably avoids eye contact.
“Who are all the unknown callers?” Snake asks, his thumb flying over the screen.
“Telemarketers,” he answers, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
“Or maybe you have something to hide,” I accuse.
“Is this a joke?” he scoffs, feigning nonchalance, but he isn’t fooling anyone. He’s scared shitless.
“His call log and text messages are clean, but—”
“See, nothing to hide,” Brick gloats triumphantly.
“I wasn’t done talking, pencil dick. As I was sayin’, his call history and deleted texts are easily retrievable.” Snake aims a taunting smile at him. “You gotta love technology.”
And abracadabra, Brick’s exuberance disappears in a flash.
“Did you think it’d be that easy, you rat fuck?” Cricket crows, bouncing around like a goddamn lunatic. “Snake is a tech genius, motherfucker.”
“Here’s the thing, Brick,” I announce, pausing to study my fingernails for several beats. “We know you sold us out to the Disciples.”
“I didn’t—”
“Listen, tell the truth and I’ll convince Zeus to spare your life.” I aim the gun at his protruding midsection, which is weirdly disproportionate to his thin frame. The sleazy scumbag is skinnier than a two-dollar crack whore. “Lie and kiss your ass goodbye.”
“Okay, okay,” he concedes, threading a hand through his mousy-brown hair. “I set it up, but Buffalo was in on everything.”
“You lying motherfucker!” Buffalo shouts, charging forward. He punches his cousin in the mouth before Snake manages to haul him back.
Brick spits blood onto the worn carpet. “Why am I not surprised you skipped the part about your involvement, little cousin?”
“Don’t believe this piece of shit,” Buffalo sneers, jabbing a finger at him. His voice is too loud. Too panicked.
“I brought him on for twenty grand, but later he switched up and demanded more money. I refused and he got pissed,” Brick explains, pinning his narrow gaze on Buffalo. “Thought I’d be killed right away, no questions asked, huh? Too bad for you.”
Buffalo pales, guilt written all over his face. “H-he’s l-lying—”
I raise the gun and fire once, silencing him forever. His lifeless body crumples to the floor, blood oozing from the gaping hole in his skull.
“Thanks a lot,” Snake grumbles, wiping blood and brain matter off his face with the hem of his shirt. “Some got in my eye too.”
“My bad,” I say to him before giving my full attention to the disloyal fucker cowering on the sofa. “Any last words?”
“Wait a minute,” he shrieks. “You said you would talk to Zeus.”
“Oh, about that,” I drawl, scratching an imaginary itch on my neck. “I lied.”
Crocodile tears gleam in his eyes. “Honest to God, no one was supposed to get hurt.”
“But they did.” Two bullets enter his chest, and his eyelids stretch in terror.
Twin red spots bloom on his white tank, saturating the cotton in seconds.
I blow him a kiss. “See you in Hell.”
Undoubtedly, Lucifer is eagerly awaiting my arrival.
His breathing grows shallow, then his journey on Earth comes to an abrupt end.
“Get the burner from the car and call the cleaner.” I issue the directive to Cricket. “Tell him to get here ASAP.”
“On it,” he says and leaves the house.
“You shouldn’t have killed Buffalo without the okay from Zeus first,” Snake remarks, shaking his head at me. “He’s going to bust a vein.”
“Fuck his bureaucratic bullshit.” I dismiss my brother’s warning and stand, dropping my sidearm back in its holster. “Help me find something to wrap the bodies in.”
Zeus will have to wait to chew me out. Right now, we need to get these bodies to the crematorium, then regroup. We’re bound to find more dirt in these fuckers’ cell phones.