ROWDY
The message from Jagger to Clint was simple: “The Baton Rouge boys are coming to kill you.” I didn’t wait for more clarification. My sole concern was getting Kat and Maria to the bunker.
Once they were downstairs, my mind began to race with questions. Seeking answers, I found Clint and Rock at the front door.
“What are we looking at?”
“One of the Baton Rouge Jokers ratted out his friends and told Jagger about the planned attack. Apparently, they’re coming in hard to kill everyone they can.”
“Are they hitting anyone else?”
Clint said, “No.”
“So, they think they can come here, kill us, and then what? Run home to Baton Rouge? What do they think will happen when they get there?”
Rock checked his phone. “They figure their daddies will keep them safe.”
Clint handed me a rifle. “Or they hope this shit will push their people back in Baton Rouge to challenge Zodiac and take back the Black Rainbow. They never wanted to be Jokers. They’ve always planned on using Tricky’s club to wage war on Zodiac.
Once that plan fell apart, the assholes came up with plan B. ”
“Okay, so, what’s our plan?”
“We kill them,” Clint said and gestured toward the staircase. “Go upstairs and play sniper.”
“Don’t fucking hide me.”
“He’s right,” Rock told Clint. “Even pussy whipped, Rowdy is better in the front line than most people. Let him hide in the buffer zone and keep these assholes from reaching the house.”
Clint studied me for only a moment before agreeing. “If they reach the house, they can start a fire. Then, the bunker will no longer be safe.”
I took the extra ammo Sabrina handed me and followed my sister to the buffer zone.
The club had run drills before with different scenarios.
Everyone knew their spots. Cher would normally be outside on the north side with Stevie.
Since last year’s attack, she had struggled with loud noises setting off her vertigo.
That’s why she was assigned to keep watch in the bunker.
I settled into a spot behind several large planters and bushes used to disguise concrete barriers.
The lights went off around the property.
The only illumination came from the road outside the security fence covered in ivy and protected by thick bushes.
No one could see in here, but we also couldn’t see outside the property.
With the darkness putting me in the right frame of mind, I lifted my rifle and aimed for the front gate.
Around the property, everyone settled into their places.
Minutes ticked away. The Sorority House was located on the north side, near a golf course and large ranches.
The quiet here was eerie. Tonight, the silence lingered, making me wonder if the message had been a false alarm.
Or worse, had the snitch been distracting us from the real target?
An ugly rage filled my stomach, making me wonder if my parents and sons were safe.
After ten minutes sitting in the darkness, I picked up the faint sounds of approaching vehicles. Not motorcycles. The enemy was driving trucks or SUVs, something with large engines. Aiming my rifle at the closed black iron gate, I silenced my fears.
The lead truck slammed into the front gate, knocking one door off its top hinges and leaving it hanging awkwardly. Backing up, the vehicle idled. The men inside seemed to hesitate.
The Sorority House likely felt deserted. Their sneak attack had been ruined. We were waiting for them. How willing were they to die tonight?
The sounds of opening doors were followed by the thuds of their boots against the asphalt. The first guy to the gate fired blindly at the house, hoping to lure us into giving away our positions.
The snipers were hidden on the roof and upper wraparound porch. Until they fired, I had to keep my finger off the trigger.
Tonight, the massive front yard was filled with vehicles. Letting the assholes venture too far onto the property would allow them plenty of cover.
When no one reacted to the asshole’s wild firing, the men crept through the broken security gate.
I counted six men enter the yard. The darkness hid their identities. I sensed more men waited outside.
The silence felt unbearable. Every three steps they took, one of them fired at the house. They moved with more confidence, likely assuming we had fled.
However, one man in the back of the group retreated toward the gate. He probably sensed we were waiting to ambush them.
The sound of an approaching motorcycle broke through the eerie silence. I had no idea who was coming this direction. Several Crimson Guard members weren’t at the party. Hell, it could be one of our parents racing over to save the day. Whoever rode this direction was about to die.
The snipers were likely thinking the same thing, since they fired on their targets. I waited until the bodies hit the ground to fire at the remaining men.
Gunfire came from every direction. The enemy wore bulletproof armor. A few seemed like fucking Terminators, refusing to go down.
Outside the gate, men yelled, a motorcycle revved, and gunfire broke out.
Inside the courtyard, I focused on the remaining men trying to find cover. I left my hiding spot when I saw one fucker running for the front porch.
Following my lead, our people shifted positions, chasing down the final targets. The men fired blindly, seeming confused by the sheer number of people emerging from the darkness.
As we eliminated the final threats, I heard a vehicle’s wheels screeching against the asphalt on the road. The question was whether the surviving assholes were fleeing or moving to a secondary target.