Chapter One #2
“We gave this charter a second chance. It won’t get a third.” Prophet said, turning toward the Ravens’ Sergeant-at-Arms. He pulled his gun and fired, and the man dropped where he stood.
Gasps spread through the crowd as Hemsworth pulled his gun next and shot their road captain.
Between him and Prophet, two of the Ravens’ officers were gone.
They were the men most likely to rally what was left of the club and fight back when this was all over.
The president and vice president had escaped, but Hemsworth wasn’t fazed.
He knew it was only a matter of time before they joined their officers.
“From this moment forward, this charter is dissolved. Effective immediately, any man caught wearing those colors again in the Hills will answer to the Council.” Hunter chimed in. He didn’t say much, but when he did, niggas had better take heed.
Hemsworth turned toward Crown.
“Whatever business you have with this Preach is yours to handle. But Gunner…that’s Council business.”
∞∞∞
On the other side of the city, Danger pulled his Harley into the body shop's lot before killing the engine.
He swung a leg over the bike, removed his helmet, and set it on the seat.
His eyes slowly swept the small property, taking in every security camera, every bay door, and every employee moving around like it was just another workday.
To them, it was. To him, it was about to become something entirely different.
He pushed through the front door, and the smell of fresh paint, oil, and body filler hit him. An employee standing behind the front counter looked up from the computer. Danger realized he was a new face. He hadn't been there when he'd brought his Hellcat in for work.
"Good evening, sir. Welcome to Next Level Auto Body. My name's Chris. How can I help you?"
"I'm looking for Redd."
Chris nodded as he stood. "Do you have an appointment?"
"Nah."
"Okay. He's in the back. Let me go get him."
A few minutes later, Chris returned by himself.
"I apologize. The boss is on a phone call, giving a customer an estimate. Is there anything I can help you with, or would you like to wait? I can also take your name and number and have him give you a call if you can't stay."
Danger's jaw tightened. Without another word, he reached behind his back and pulled his gun, aiming it directly at Chris’s face.
"A Knight waits on no mu’fuckin' body. Go tell Redd that Danger wanna speak with him."
Chris' hands shot into the air as he nervously nodded. "O-okay. Don't shoot. I'll get him."
"You got ten seconds, bitch."
Chris took off toward the back again, and Danger reached into his pocket, pulling out the printed screenshot from the security footage recovered from the clubhouse.
Just as he laid it on the counter and drew his second .
45, Chris returned with Redd at his side.
Both men froze. Danger had one pistol trained on Redd and the other aimed at Chris.
Pulling up one deep and taking control of a room wasn’t shit to a nigga like him.
It wasn’t his first time and surely wouldn’t be his last.
“Danger, what's going on, my man? I don't understand. W…what's the problem?” Redd stammered, his mind going to the Hellcat he'd customized at the beginning of the year.
Danger had paid every dollar he owed, tipped the crew well, and never once complained about the work. They'd parted on good terms. So, he couldn’t fathom why the fuck the vice president of the Knights was standing in his shop pointing two guns.
"You." Danger ignored the question, motioning to Chris with the second pistol. "Lock the front door and flip the sign."
Chris hurried to do exactly that.
"Now come have a seat and keep yo' hands where I can see ’em. Fuck wit’ me, and I'll cut both of them bitches off."
Chris quickly pulled one of the waiting room chairs over and sat down, keeping both hands visible so Danger could see them as he said a silent prayer in his head.
"You done any work on a Mustang lately?"
Redd frowned in confusion. "A Mustang? Yeah. Plenty of them come through here."
Danger nodded toward the counter. "Pick up that picture and study it. Then tell me if you recognize that one."
Redd reached for the printed image with a shaky hand and carefully looked it over. It didn’t take him long to recognize he and his crew had done the bodywork. He hesitated, wondering what this was all about.
“I do. I did the bodywork.”
“I figured. Who owns it?”
Redd's eyes drifted toward Chris before settling back on Danger.
“…I can’t tell you that, man. I don’t want no problems with you, but you must understand. I run a business. My customers trust me with their vehicles and their information. If I start giving names out every time somebody walks in here asking questions, I won’t have a business much longer.”
Danger never took his eyes off him as he lowered one of his pistols.
Redd realized what he was about to do and tried to talk him out of it, but it was too late.
The gunshot exploded through the shop. In pain and shock, Chris screamed as the bullet tore through his kneecap.
He tumbled out of the chair and crashed onto the floor, clutching his leg as blood spread beneath him. Redd stumbled backward in horror.
The gunshot cut through the noise of the garage, overpowering the music, impact guns, and air tools for a split second. One by one, the employees looked toward the front office, peering through the window to see what had happened.
Danger was already watching them through the glass, aware they'd heard the shot. In one smooth motion, he tucked one of his guns into the waistband of his jeans before snatching Redd by the front of his collar and shoving him toward the garage.
Panic spread. Two employees ducked behind vehicles while the body technician and mechanic made a run for the bay doors.
Accurate with it, Danger fired twice. The first round tore through the mechanic's leg, dropping him to the concrete.
The second struck the body technician square in the back, sending him crashing face-first. The other two employees froze where they stood, fear rooting them in place.
Seeing no one else willing to test him, Danger turned his attention back to Redd and pressed the barrel against the side of his head.
“You don’t talk, and yo’ business will no longer have you. I’ll kill every one of you niggas.”
“Aight! Aight! I can't remember off the top of my head who the car belongs to. I gotta go through my records. Hundreds of Mustangs come through here, but I'll find it. I got you."