Chapter 11
Bolo
“Fuck!” Isaac slammed his back into the wall as a hail of bullets flew past him.
The dumbass had been the slowest runner of the three of us so they’d all targeted him as we bolted out of the truck.
That was saying something since Dad was like a hundred years old.
Thankfully they’d been far enough behind us that they were just pulling into the lot as we were running into the factory and none of the rounds found their way into our hides.
“You just let a seventy-year-old man outrun you,” I scoffed.
“I’m not fucking seventy, you ungrateful shithead!” Dad stared at me in disgust and shock. Then to Isaac he said, “You did let an old man outrun you, though.”
“Fuck you,” Isaac snapped at the same time. “I’m more of a long distance runner than a sprinter.”
They were both right. Dad was only in his fifties and Isaac could whoop my ass any day in any running event over a mile long. But—even when our lives were in danger—I couldn’t miss an opportunity to take a dig where I could.
“Seriously, fuck Relay,” Isaac huffed as more bullets sprayed through the door. “How is it the one damn day he’s not here this shit happens?”
“Guess we’re just lucky and get to take care of them ourselves,” I replied. “Trust me, Relay’s going to be disappointed he missed this.”
“He’s going to be pissed,” Dad said with a grim chuckle.
He knew everything about his sons. He was one of the few people—me being one as well—who knew Relay’s whole story.
Not even Mom knew the full details. She knew just enough that it wouldn’t completely upset her.
And yet Dad loved Relay as much now as he ever had.
He was constantly trying to get Relay into therapy, but my brother was a stubborn man. Not that all of us weren’t.
“What’s the plan?” Isaac asked. He’d been the kind of soldier who you’d point in a direction and tell him to decimate an area, not a planner.
He was as deadly a killer as the rest of us.
He just didn’t need to keep doing it in the same way Relay and I had.
So he’d retired from the Army and was happy just working with Dad.
Ruck had been massively disappointed he hadn’t been able to recruit all three of the Dunn brothers when Isaac had turned down the offer to prospect for the MC.
Hell, Ruck even offered for my father to come into the brotherhood, but Dad and Isaac were just a little different than Relay and me. They didn’t need this. We did.
“We need to draw them in,” I told them.
“Don’t we want to scare them off?” Isaac asked.
Dad was studying my face. “You sure you know who they are.”
“Pretty sure,” I told him. “And if they are, they’ll come back again. But next time it’ll be when you’re sleeping so they can slit your throats.”
Dad’s eyes hardened into that look I knew so well. The killer instinct had just taken over. I saw it in the mirror often enough to recognize it. Saw it in Relay’s eyes. In my MC brothers’ and now there it was in my Dad and brother’s eyes as realization set in. “Is your mother in trouble?”
“I fucking hope not,” I told him as I pushed down the helpless feeling that something could be happening to Devyn and Mom right now. Or hell, even Relay wherever he was today. “But Ruck will make sure she’s safe even if they go after her.”
He nodded, satisfied for now. “So we draw them in,” Dad said.
“And kill ‘em all?” Isaac asked, voice completely devoid of worry or any other emotion.
“And kill ‘em all,” Dad and I echoed together.
“We need a plan,” I told them as we started backing toward a metal staircase that led up to the rickety looking planks of metal high above the factory floor.
Worry flashed in Dad’s eyes. “You two, cover that door. I’m calling your brother. And your mother. Even with your MC heading their way, I want them to know what’s coming.”
I nodded pointing my Glock at the opening. I wasn’t going to warn Dev. I didn’t have time to explain and this would freak her out more than if she didn’t know.
Sunlight was filtering in from the windows up high, but we were back in a shadowy area. It gave us some concealment, if nothing else. Coming in from the bright morning, they wouldn’t be able to see us right away.
Isaac and I shot at the same time as one of the bastards poked his head through the door. Dumb fucker. He dropped like a sack of potatoes. Hopefully that would hold off the others for a couple minutes.
I heard the unmistakable sound of a shotgun racking a round. “We’re about to have more company,” I warned Isaac.
I met my father’s eyes as he walked back over to us. His call to Relay had taken about two seconds while the call to Mom had taken just slightly longer. “Get through?”
He nodded. “Yeah. They know.”
“Sorry ‘bout our shit spilling over into your lives,” I said. “We’ll do whatever we have to in order to keep everyone safe.”
Isaac just shrugged, because I’d met his gaze, too, and included him in the apology. “Sometimes it feels good to stretch my legs. Reminds me why I go to the range once a week to practice.”
Dad laughed. “Let’s hope you shoot better than you did last weekend.”
“I told you I was hung over as hell,” he muttered.
The shitbags got wise this time and six of them came through the door as fast as they could, two at a time, elbowing each other out of the way as they ran for cover.
It worked, for the men in the back. The first through the door were like bullet sponges.
We only managed to take out two as more spilled through the doorway.
“Ten left,” Dad said.
We’d all been counting.
“Remind me to pack your damn truck full of magazines and ammo from now on,” I told him. “Don’t like that we only have four mags each.” Before leaving the truck I had raided my Go-bag for all my extra mags. I had always thought I was over packing. Right now I realized there was no such thing.
“Just make your shots count, asshole,” Isaac said, firing at a guy who stuck his head up over a drum. Liquid began to pour out onto the floor as Isaac hit the drum instead of the guy.
I gave him an amused look. “You were saying?”
“Still a better shot than you,” he said, eyes on the threats in front of us.
“That’s debatable at this point,” Dad replied. “I’ll be the judge of that after this.”
“Shit,” Isaac muttered. Now that it was a contest, he was going to be even more driven to beat me. He was the oldest, after all.
For most people they’d probably be horrified to hear us.
They’d be terrified at getting shot at. Disgusted that we were making this into a game.
And they’d probably be downright offended about us joking around.
But this was life for us. All of us had been made into warriors thanks to our time in the military.
I made my way quickly up the creaky old metal stairs, to get a better view.
All the fuckers were hiding behind shit that was shoved into the corners near the doorway.
Turning, I almost collided with Isaac. Dad was right behind him.
They’d wanted to get the lay of the land as well.
Couldn’t blame them. “You two drop back down to the…” I gestured with my head.
What the hell do you call a room filled with obsolete machinery?
“Go to the next room, take opposite sides. I’ll draw them in, right past you, and you can nail them in the back as they pour through. ”
“No way, I’ll do it,” Isaac said.
“I think we proved that you can’t even outrun an old man. I’m the fastest,” I argued back. “Don’t fucking argue, just go. Besides, I’ll bring them nice and close so you can’t miss.”
“Fuck you, I don’t need a handicap.” But he was already running.
So was Dad. I fired a few rounds sparingly to keep the shit heads from closing in while they made their way down and into the back half of the factory.
After a solid ten-count in my head, I went down the stairs, swapping a fresh mag as I went, stood at the foot of the stairs, and started to fire.
I walked deliberately backwards, firing two shots to the left, then two shots to the right.
Twisting to the equipment room, I began my mad dash towards our trap, firing blindly over my shoulder as I ran full speed.
They did exactly what I expected. As soon as I wasn’t shooting consistently anymore, the chase was on.
I could hear boots pounding on concrete floors behind me.
But I had a head start, and odds were I was faster than the majority of the fuck sticks.
I didn’t have time to survey the new room as I passed through the door, to see where Dad and Isaac were.
It didn’t matter, I followed my instincts, knowing they would be well positioned.
In front of me was a giant…lathe? Giant metal machine that would stop bullets, which was the only thing that really mattered right now.
I knew it would stop bullets because I could see the sparks flying off of it from the stray rounds being fired from behind me.
I ran full bore toward it, planning to take cover.
Most people would assume a man my size couldn’t jump.
Or run for that matter. They always assumed that size meant slow and awkward.
Thing was, I never skipped leg day. I launched up in a hugely infrequent but highly effective dive over the machine, landing in a painful and ungraceful thud on the other side.
Staring up at the ceiling as I got my breath back from the hard landing, I heard shouts, cursing, and a lot of firing.
My own groans were drowned out by the screams of Collective assholes being mowed down by Dad and Isaac. I forced myself to my knees, swapped in my last mag, then peered around the side.
“It’s safe for you to come out now,” Isaac mocked.
“Hey, I had the hardest job,” I grumbled, getting to my feet.
“I win,” Dad said, a grin on his face.
“Bullshit, these two are mine.”
“Nope, those are my bullets in his back,” Dad said smugly.
“Yeah, but that’s my bullet in his head.”
“So? I have three in his back.”
Isaac kicked the body. “I hit him first, head shot is the kill shot.”
“You don’t know that.”
Isaacs mouth opened and closed silently.
“Dad’s got you there,” I pointed out. “He could’ve nailed him and you hit him on the way down.
” Anything to make sure Isaac didn’t win.
“Enough screwing around. Those assholes made quite a racket on the way here. Someone will have called the police. And eventually the cops will figure out that we’re here.
Let’s get all the bodies inside and then torch the place. ”
“Torch it?” Dad asked. “Won’t that draw more attention?”
“Probably, but we don’t have time to smuggle bodies out of here, remove their cars, and scrub this place down for blood and prints.
The only option is to torch it and their bodies.
Let the cops determine it was a gang fight gone wrong, which is largely true.
For them.” I followed Isaac’s lead and kicked another body for emphasis.
It was more than these bastards deserved.