Chapter 15
“Where the fuck are they?” Draco growls, kicking the steel wall.
We lie in wait behind the warehouse, tension hanging heavy in the air. It’s one of two locations used to store weapons and product. The area is secluded and surrounded by an electric fence, but as a precaution, prospects stand guard around the clock.
Those assholes should’ve been here fifteen minutes ago.
Snake found more incriminating shit on Brick’s and Buffalo’s cell phones.
The fuckers planned to meet the Disciples here at nine.
The plan was to sell them the merch at half price, then frame the Latin Maniacs for the theft.
They’re in attendance tonight, lingering at a distance, whispering among themselves.
Tension between the brotherhood and the gang is at an all-time high.
Zeus invited them to participate in the pending massacre, aiming to soothe hostilities. Enemies at our front and enemies at our fucking back. I have a gut feeling that some slimy shit is about to go down. My instincts are never wrong.
Caesar’s beady, hate-filled gaze continuously seeks me out, knowing I led the assassination of his men. If he even farts in my direction, it’s a done deal. I’m wilding the fuck out.
Snake leans on the steel wall next to me. “What do you think the holdup is?”
“Don’t know.”
He and I rode the dearly departed’s bikes here and parked out front. The others pulled up, packed into two SUVs that are now stashed in the trees beyond the property line. We wanted to be as inconspicuous as possible.
“Maybe somebody tipped them off,” Jigsaw speculates, absentmindedly stroking his beard. “Keep frosty. We can’t let those bastards catch us with our pants around our ankles.”
True, we actually don’t know how many rats are in our midst. Someone could’ve alerted the Disciples that we’re on to them and led us right to the slaughter, but I’m ready.
I never ran from a fight in my life, and I’m not about to start now.
Kill or be killed. That’s the code. The motorcycle world is full of posers—loudmouths with no bite.
But me? I made peace with death a long time ago. This life doesn’t hand out tomorrows.
Live by the sword, die by the sword. Those words are inked across my shoulder blades.
“We’ll wait another ten minutes,” Zeus orders, his nostrils flaring. “If they don’t show, then we go to their clubhouse. A message will be sent tonight. Blood will have blood.”
“We should leave now,” Draco barks, pacing back and forth. “Go to Spider’s crib and light it up. That’ll send those motherfuckers a message.”
“I second that,” Milo, a club prospect, agrees.
His lips are glued to Draco’s ball sac.
“I said we wait,” Zeus’s authoritative tone cuts through the night.
“And going to his house ain’t happening.
Just because we have public officials on our payroll doesn’t mean we can act wild west in the streets.
Making noise in a residential neighborhood would bring too much heat down on us.
Especially if an innocent got hurt, or worse, killed. ”
Did something crawl up Draco’s ass and die? He’s been sulky since this morning, which is nothing new, but his theatrics are on a hundred today. I chuckle softly to myself.
Draco’s angry gaze zooms in on me. “Something funny, motherfucker?”
“Yeah.” I nod my head in the affirmative. “Your bitch ass.”
He strides toward me, his fists clenched at his sides. “We’ll see who’s the bitch.”
“Come on,” Snake gripes irritably. “Can you two skip the pissing contest for tonight?”
“Can’t,” I respond, straightening from my slouch against the wall. “Gotta piss like a racehorse.”
“Let it go.” Cricket grabs my arm. “We got bigger fish to fry.”
“It’s cool.” I wink, pulling away from him. “This won’t take long.”
“Rein that shit in before I break a foot off in both y’all asses,” Zeus threatens.
“Then how would you walk?” I deadpan.
Zeus’s eyes narrow to slits. “Don’t test me, boy.”
Draco hocks a loogie on the ground at my feet, then spins on his heel. Some of the thick mucus landed on the toe of my right boot. That’s a slight I refuse to ignore.
“I saw Tulip yesterday.” Draco stops dead in his tracks, body winding tighter than a virgin asshole. “I don’t usually fuck older broads, but she was looking real sweet. Might make an exception for her and feed that lonely pussy some young dick.”
“Savage,” Cricket mumbles.
“Fuck, did you have to go there?” Snake whines.
Draco whips around and charges forward, a feral sound erupting from his throat. Just as we’re about to clash, Snake jumps between us, his arms spread wide to stop the fight. The punch meant for me lays him flat on his back. He staggers to his feet, rubbing along his jawline.
“Fuck, Draco, you almost broke my goddamn jaw!” he exclaims.
“Your dumb ass shouldn’t have gotten in the fucking way.”
“Motherfucker!” Snake bellows, swinging a right hook into Draco’s chin.
They go head-to-head—ducking, dodging, and throwing punches. Draco lands a calculated blow to Snake’s abdomen. He grunts, air swooshing from his lungs.
“You’re way out of your league, pup,” Draco taunts, his knuckles barreling toward Snake’s face.
Snake ducks the jab and strikes back, smashing his forehead into Draco’s.
“You little shits should’ve been swallowed,” Zeus snaps, stomping over to them.
Jigsaw keeps pace at his side. They work together to pull them apart.
Cricket sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “See what you started?”
“Well, you know me,” I drawl, shrugging a shoulder. “I’m the life of the party.”
Distinctive rumbling rends the air, and everyone stills. Adrenaline flares to life in my veins.
“It’s go time,” Zeus announces, then looks at Draco. “You, Rooster, and Tank cover the front. Wait here until the fireworks start and dead anyone who tries to make a run for it. The rest of you get ready.”
The rumbling grows louder, and we huddle at the back entrance, weapons at the ready. I slow my breathing, both hands clasping my Glock in a firm grip. The engines cut and heavy footsteps can be heard crunching the gravel as our hapless prey file into the dimly lit warehouse.
“On the count of three,” Zeus whispers. “One, two, three.”
I storm through the door first, my gun drawn and finger on the trigger. The others quickly follow suit, fanning out around the spacious interior.
Our rivals freeze. Bear, the sergeant at arms, draws his firearm. Too slow. I release a single shot, putting a bullet hole in his hand.
I lower my weapon, aiming between his thighs. “Move again, and your balls are next.”
He winces in pain, holding his bloody appendage against his chest.
We outnumber their eight. They don’t stand a chance.
“Where’s Spider?” Zeus’s question echoes through the building.
He and his VP are conspicuously missing.
“He ain’t come tonight,” Bear grinds out. “You’ll never get to him.”
“Please don’t kill me,” a prospect blubbers, tears raining down on his chubby cheeks. “I’m only doing what—”
I empty two shells into his chest. “Shut the fuck up.”
Crying is for babies, children, and women.
Shock widens his eyes, and he crumples to the concrete floor, still as the grave.
“You son of a bitch,” Bear snarls, baring his teeth. “He was just an eighteen-year-old kid.”
“Now he’s a dead eighteen-year-old kid.” I smirk, turning my gun back on him. “Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.”
The guy to Bear’s left brandishes his piece with a roar and starts blasting. Everyone scatters, running for safety. I take shelter behind a steel column.
“It’s a good day to die, motherfuckers!” I bellow, spraying bullets across the room.
Zeus returns gunfire, diving for a large wooden crate. Cricket flips a table. He and another brother drop behind it, using it as cover. I’ve lost sight of Snake and Jigsaw, but spot a few other brothers ensconced in various positions.
From the corner of my eye, I glimpse Caesar centering his gun at Zeus’s head.
“Zeus!” I swing my arm around and fire at the gang leader, striking him in the eye and neck.
He still manages to discharge one shot but misses his target by mere centimeters.
I knew we couldn’t trust those fuckers. Caesar falls to his knees and then topples over.
His second comes at me with a hail of gunfire, grazing my left shoulder.
I duck and roll into a low crouch, dispensing several slugs into his gut.
“Bye-bye, bitch.”
I sprint back to the steel column, pumping lead into Maniacs and Disciples along the way. We’ll be lucky to see tomorrow. A bullet whizzes past my head.
Fuck, that was close.
I quickly reload and rejoin the fray.
“Hold your fucking fire!” someone shouts above the din. “We surrender!”
“Gods, ceasefire, but stay sharp!” Zeus’s booming edict ends the shootout.
The silence hits hard, like someone yanked the sound from the air.
“Identify yourself,” Zeus calls out.
“Bulldog.”
“Throw your weapons out and come out with your hands up,” he demands. “Same goes for you, Maniacs.”
Guns slide out, then five men emerge—three Disciples and two Maniacs.
We cautiously surface from our hiding places. Snake drags a limping Milo at his side.
“Call the doc!” he cries out hysterically. “I’m dying over here, dude.”
“You’re fine,” Snake snaps, lowering him to the concrete floor.
“Fine?” Milo wails, gesturing wildly at his leg. “Dude, look at my fucking leg! I’m bleeding like a stuck—”
Snake’s foot connects with his face, knocking him out cold. “I said you’re fucking fine.”
The others enter the warehouse, weapons locked and loaded.
“Rooster, get the car.” Zeus digs the key out of his pocket and tosses it to him. “Take Milo to The Sanctuary. Naomi will meet you there, then I want you back here.”
“You got it, Prez.”
Draco surveys the carnage. “Any casualties?”
“Yeah,” Jigsaw responds somberly. “Claw’s gone.”
“Fuck!” Zeus thunders. “Six brothers dead within a month.”
“On your knees, you pieces of shit,” I bark as I stride toward our enemies.
I place my Glock against the first guy’s forehead.