Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Rage studied the patch carved into the center of the wood table. Four generations of Dirty Angels’ blood ran through his veins.
Four.
The club couldn’t end with their generation. Fuck that. His ancestors would come back to haunt him if that happened, so it fell on his shoulders to do something about it.
He lifted his head. “Been thinkin’ about this shit.”
Next to him, Zeke sucked on his teeth. “Thank fuck someone has.”
“Know we talked about pickin’ off those fuckin’ Souls one-by-one. Not sayin’ that ain’t the way to go, but think it’s better if we go after the main players. The motherfuckers controllin’ the purse strings.”
Tension crackled in the air around him. The same way it shot down his spine when he thought about this plan.
Across from him, Chill stated the obvious. “The Russos.”
Rage’s gaze sliced from the president to Zeke’s younger brother, the VP. “Yeah. They’re the reason the Souls wanna use our territory as a fuckin’ pathway to a fuckload of scratch. Eliminate the Mafia and the Souls ain’t gonna have a reason to come close to Shadow Valley.”
“So you fuckin’ hope,” Chaos muttered.
Wheels spoke up from the other end of the table. “Thinkin’ the Souls are gonna get pissed if we fuck with their windfall, though.”
“Could be,” Rage answered.
Cruz almost launched from his chair when he yelled, “Are you fucking crazy? How the fuck do we eliminate the goddamn Mafia?”
“And survive it,” Chill tacked on. “If we hit them, they ain’t gonna hesitate to hit us back.
And let’s be real, their hits are gonna be so much fuckin’ worse than ours.
Even if we somehow succeed, who’s to say, like the Souls takin’ over the Demons’ territory, some other Mafia family—or another branch of the Russos in this case—won’t take over Pittsburgh and just continue on with business as usual? ”
Chill was right, but they couldn’t sit on their fucking hands and do nothing. Especially after the Russos took Zeke’s son, Ledger, and the Souls injured some of their women. The first one was done as a warning. The second was an actual attack.
“No guarantee that ain’t gonna happen, but nobody’s comin’ up with any fuckin’ ideas how to deal with it,” he answered. “And the fuck if we can let it go unchecked.”
Cruz countered with, “We could.”
The thought of simply letting that shit slide pissed him the fuck off. “Sure,” Rage responded, “and other clubs are gonna see us as weak for not defendin’ our patch. Could end up fightin’ other clubs to hang on to what we built, like the OGs did with those goddamn Warriors.”
Zeke sighed and clawed his fingers through his hair. “We’re fucked either way.”
“Yeah. So, we need to take the path that ain’t gonna fuck us the hardest.”
“Cut the head off the snake and the rest of the snake dies,” Chaos mumbled.
If it was only that fucking simple. “That’s what I’m thinkin’.”
“Thinking is different from actually fucking doing it, though” Cruz bit off.
Wheels leaned forward. “Dunno ‘bout you all, but just the thought of goin’ after the…god…damn…Mafia makes my asshole pucker.”
“Better check for hemorrhoids, brother,” Chaos told him.
“Would rather have a fuckin’ hemorrhoid the size of the goddamn moon than take pot shots at the fuckin’ Mafia,” Wheels muttered. “Never heard of anyone dyin’ from an itchy asshole.”
“Look, get that this shit is fuckin’ crazy.
But we can’t fuckin’ forget that they snagged our prez’s boy.
They put our women—our fuckin’ family—in the hospital.
They expect to use our goddamn territory as their own.
Ain’t gonna sit back and not do shit. ‘Down and dirty ’til dead.
’ You assholes forget that? We ain’t ever been a club where we let shit slide ‘cause we’re pussy-ass pansies.
” Rage glanced over at Zeke to see him grinding his hand against the back of his neck and wearing a grim expression.
He knew it would be difficult to convince his brothers to go after a criminal organization like the Sicilian mob, but he didn’t see any other way to go about it.
Taking down the Mafia wasn’t going to be an easy task.
War was always bloody and could result in some losses.
They simply had to minimize the damage as much as possible.
Somehow.
But yeah, thinking about the bullshit the Warriors pulled all those years ago, and knowing this fight would be so much worse, did make his fucking asshole pucker. He’d be a fool if it didn’t.
“This is bigger than all of us,” Chill said. “Agree with goin’ after the organization fundin’ the Souls, but damn…”
“Got three fucking Shadows in our club. Got the whole damn team in our back pocket. Need to use them,” Cruz reminded them.
Chill nodded. “Could be four Shadows if Reaper wants to join us.”
“Won’t join ‘less he don’t gotta prospect,” Zeke grumbled.
It was no surprise when more grumbles could be heard around the table.
Despite being fourth generation DAMC, Rage had to prospect for a whole fucking year, just like someone off the street. Unlike Zeke, he never expected anything to be handed to him.
Did it suck? Sure as fuck did. He swore the OGs made it worse for their kids than outsiders when it came to being a club bitch. Then they laughed about it. A lot.
Why? Because all of them had to do the same. Nobody got a free ride no matter who you were. Because of that, he wasn’t sure about letting Reaper get a full set of patches without earning them. From the sound of it, nobody else was, either.
Including Zeke. And if anyone had felt entitled enough to not prospect, it would’ve been him.
“Know we talked to Vi and Reaper ‘bout pickin’ off the Souls one at a time, but maybe we should do a sit-down with all of the Shadows about changin’ our focus,” Zeke said.
Rage nodded. “Think it would be smart.”
In contrast, Cruz shook his head. “Smart would be not fucking with an organization with the capability of blowing up our shit, like our businesses.”
“Let’s not forget our women and families,” Chill added.
“No matter what we do, it’s gonna be a risk,” Wheels said. “But Rage is right. Can’t just let this shit go. Ain’t who we are.”
“Then we need to stop jawin’ about it and actually fuckin’ do somethin’,” Chaos growled. “They fucked up my sister.”
Rage’s chest immediately tightened and his teeth clenched when he thought about what the Souls had done.
Seeing Piper in that hospital bed…
Seeing Bri and Lyric with injuries…
He took a deep breath to keep his blood pressure from spiking.
Zeke rapped his knuckles on the table and turned his eyes to Rage. “All right, thinkin’ me and you should sit down with all the Shadows and let ‘em know who we wanna deal with first.”
“Need to let them assess the risk of goin’ after the Mafia, brother,” Chill warned Zeke. “If it’s too high, gotta think of another way.”
“Yeah, agree with that. They’re better at assessing threats than us, so if they say it’s fucking stupid, then it’s fucking stupid,” Cruz concluded.
Rage agreed with that, too, but he had a feeling he already knew the answer and, if he was right, they’d be back at square one.
For fuck’s sake.
For fuck’s sake, his asshole might not be itching, but his skin sure was where the touch-ups Lyric gave him a few days ago were healing.
He might not admit it out loud, but the reason he had so many tattoos was because being in her chair gave him hours at a time to spend with her.
He always felt at peace around her and she was the only person who could soothe his soul and settle his thoughts. Who could calm him down when he was spinning out of control. It only took a simple touch from her. A word. A look. Though, sometimes all three were needed.
She might not even be aware of the calming effect she had on him. He never told her that when it came to him, she had a gift with her touch. Way more than with ink.
No, that was his secret to keep.
“You good, brother?” had him pulling his gaze from one of the tattoos on his arm to the people sitting around the table.
Not the DAMC’s table, but one in the conference room in the Shadows’ warehouse.
Where Vi ruled, not Zeke.
Her sister, Indie, was her “second in command” in the same sense that Chill was VP. But it wasn’t exactly the same since In the Shadows Security was a business, not a club, established by her father Diesel long after the DAMC was founded.
He started off offering personnel for simple security jobs like providing bouncers, security details, and shit like that. Then Diesel dumped the average Joe employees once he hired Mercy, then the rest of the original six-man team of former special forces.
It wasn’t long before the simple jobs became more detailed, more dangerous, more…
Mercenary like.
The Shadows were known to do “jobs” others wouldn’t touch.
Diesel’s cut-throat team was good. So fucking good that they could eighty-six someone without a trace—and had too many times to count.
Better yet, do it and not get caught.
Vi’s goal was to keep her team at that level of expertise. Because if no one else wanted a job, she could charge a fuckload to get it done.
Did her current crew have all the military experience of the original Shadows? Fuck no. Reaper might be an exception.
Not all on the team had military experience.
Indie, Vi’s middle sister, was an Air Force vet and former Operations Intelligence Specialist. Reaper, the newest addition, was some kind of former hotshot sniper in the Marines.
Grim was a former Army Explosive Ordnance Disposal Specialist as well as the son of a retired Shadow.
Scarlet had managed to become a Green Beret in the Army National Guard, but still needed to finish serving her time.
All were impressive and solid assets to her team. But the rest?
Vi was just a bossy bitch. The other two without former military experience were T-Bone and Ghost. They were young, but those two had learned from the best—their fathers, also former badass Shadows—starting from the day they were born.