15. Rooster
ROOSTER
“So, what’s the deal?” Torch motioned his head over to Wrath’s truck, where he and Two Bit were watching over us. “Why do we need all the extra precautions?”
“Just playing it safe.”
“Cotton and Grant on the rooftop is playing it safe?”
“I don’t know what to tell ya.” I shrugged. “This whole thing is new to everyone. We’re still learning all the ins and outs, and we don’t want to take any chances until we have figured everything out.”
“And if these runners are looking for trouble?”
“Then, they’ll find it. We just drove four fucking hours.
I’m hungry, tired, and I need to take a piss.
” We were at an old, abandoned school in Portland, and the place was in rough shape.
There were remnants of broken windows and graffiti-covered walls, and the grounds were covered in litter.
“I’m not in the mood to fuck around with some fucking assholes with an axe to grind. ”
“Same, brother. Same.”
Torch and I stood in the center of the courtyard, waiting impatiently with Chains, Clutch, and Q, and it wasn’t long until two black Camaros pulled up to the school.
I squared my shoulders and watched as the car doors eased open, and one by one, the handlers stepped out of the vehicles.
They were wearing leather cuts that bore the unmistakable emblem of a reaper wielding a scythe.
“Fuck,” Clutch muttered. “It’s the California Reapers.”
“Yeah, what about ‘em?”
Clutch remained eerily calm as he explained, “Our California chapter has run into some trouble with them.”
“We could always tell them to fuck off.”
“I’m with Q. They can get their guns from someone else, especially if they’re using them to go against our brothers.”
“It’s not their guns, remember?”
There was always a level of distrust when doing an exchange, but meeting with a rival MC took that feeling of distrust to a whole new level. The first to start walking towards us was sporting an enforcer patch. A mountain of a man, he exuded an air of intimidation as he gave us the once-over.
The second was slightly taller and much thinner.
He was covered in ink and moved with a calculated ease, much like the man behind him.
This guy was a towering figure with a shaved head and a gaze that seemed to pierce through the shadows.
The last guy was muscled up like his brothers, only he was much older and walked a bit slower than the others. But he wasn’t any less menacing.
The air crackled with an unspoken challenge as the first approached and asked, “So, you boys are Fury?”
“We are.”
“We’ve had run-ins with your brothers from the Los Angeles chapter.”
“So, we’ve heard.”
“They’re some real pricks.” The enforcer glanced over at his brothers before adding, “Bet you boys are cut from the same cloth.”
“That’s what makes us brothers.” I knew he was trying to fuck with me, but I wasn’t going to have it. “You want the fucking goods or not?”
“Wouldn’t be here if we didn’t.” His lip twitched with disgust as he asked, “So, how’d you boys manage to pick up this gig?”
“Don’t see how that’s any of your concern,” Q barked.
“It’s a curiosity. Not a fucking concern.” He glanced over at his brothers as he scoffed, “Damn. You Fury boys really think a lot of yourselves.”
“You best watch your fucking tone.”
“You best watch yours.” His eyes narrowed. “We already had to show your brothers what’s what. Don’t make us do the same with you.”
He was goading me, and it was working.
I didn’t want to let the motherfucker get to me, but when he put his hands on my chest and gave me a hard shove, I was done. I reared my fist back and slugged the asshole right in the jaw, sending his head flailing back.
And just like that, we were at each other’s throats.
And not just us.
The others joined in, making it a full-on brawl. It was intense. The enforcer was on me like white on rice, hammering me with one blow after the next, but I held my ground. I took him punch for punch until Wrath came up and put his gun at the asshole’s temple, causing everything to still.
His brothers were going for their weapons when a round of gunfire exploded at our feet, causing all of us to withdraw and cease fighting.
Disheveled and bloody, we all glanced up on the school roof and found Cotton and Grant staring down at us.
Cotton still had his rifle aimed at the Reapers when he growled, “That’s enough. ”
“Bunch of fucking pussies,” the enforcer barked. “You’re lucky I didn’t fucking kill each and every one of you.”
“I said that’s enough!” Cotton was his typical controlled self when he ordered, “Get your shit and get the fuck out of here.”
I could tell by looking at him that Cotton was on the brink, and I was right there with him.
These assholes had crossed a line, but we weren’t in position to let our tempers get the best of us.
We had a business deal to complete, and like it or not, it had to be done.
That didn’t mean Cotton was going to take anymore bullshit off this asshole.
He was done.
A red dot from Cotton’s AR flickered on the enforcer’s chest as Cotton warned, “’Cause the next time I shoot, it won’t be at your fucking feet.”
“You got it, boss.”
With a sinister smile on his face, the enforcer gave the other three a nod, signaling them to get the crates from the back of my SUV. They didn’t even bother to open them and check them out. Instead, they just picked them up and carried them over to the trunk of their car.
Once everything was loaded, the enforcer stepped over to me and handed me an envelope. “Until next time.”
“There won’t be a next time,” Cotton announced.
“The fuck?”
“You heard me.” Cotton showed no emotion as he told him, “Tell Bauco that he’ll have to get his goods elsewhere.”
“You don’t want to do that.”
“It’s done.”
“This isn’t over.”
“Oh, it was over the second you started running your fucking mouth.”
The enforcer glared at him, then shook his head and started over to his Camaro. He was about to get inside when he stopped and looked up at Cotton. “I hope you know, you and your boys are as good as dead.”
The words had barely left his mouth when Cotton lifted his rifle and pulled the trigger, shooting the Reaper’s enforcer right in the head. The second his body hit the ground, a fury of gunfire erupted around us, and chaos ensued.
We darted behind my SUV and used it for cover as we returned fire. Cotton and Grant continued to shoot overhead, and it wasn’t long before the man next to the first car had been taken out. I was doing my damnedest to do the same with the men in the second car when I heard Chains shout, “Fuck.”
A hard thud followed, and I quickly turned to see him on the ground with blood rushing from his throat.
He was clutching his neck, trying in vain to stop the bleeding, and I had no idea what to do to help him.
Guilt washed over me as I quickly ripped the sleeve from my t-shirt and pressed it against the wound.
“I got ya. I’m right here. I need you to hold on. ”
“It’s bad,” he muttered.
“Nah, it’s just a graze,” I lied. “I’m sorry, brother. This shit’s on me. I shouldn’t have lost my cool. It’s my fault...”
“No,” he mumbled. “Not... on... you.”
His eyelids started to grow heavy, and I knew we were losing him. With bullets still flying overhead, Q knelt beside me and said, “He’s right. Those assholes came here looking for a fight, and they found it.”
“But...”
“I mean it, brother. It’s on all of us.” Q glanced down at Chains as he said, “We need to get him to Doc.”
“We don’t have that kind of time.”
The words had barely left my mouth when the shooting suddenly stopped, and silence fell over us. I could hear my brother’s footsteps as they trudged through the gravel, and as soon as they approached, Torch grimaced and asked, “How bad is it?”
“It’s pretty fucking bad,” I answered. “He’s lost a lot of blood.”
Knowing time wasn’t on our side, Wrath opened the back hatch as he said, “We gotta move, or we’re gonna lose him.”
“Let’s go.” I looked down at Chains, and he didn’t look good. He was pale, and his eyes were glassed over. I put my hand on his chest, trying to get him to come around. “Chains, are you with me, brother? I need you to hang on. You hear me?”
Nothing.
No groan.
No movement.
But I wasn’t giving up.
I swallowed hard, trying to release the knot in my throat as I told him, “We’re gonna have to move you. You with me?”
Again, nothing.
Torch shook his head as he helped me and Clutch lift him into the back of the SUV. As soon as we laid him down, Torch stepped back and said, “I think we lost him.”
Clutch reached over and placed his fingers on his neck, checking for a pulse. Moments later, he turned to us, and his weathered face bore the weight of grief as he said, “He’s gone.”
“Fuck.”
Losing a brother was tough, but to lose one during the heat of battle cut deep. One minute, you're side by side, fighting for survival, and the next, they're gone. The loss hits you like a Mack truck, unexpected and merciless, and the fact that I had a part to play in his death hit even harder.
Anguish marked Cotton’s face as he stepped forward and growled, “Damn.”
He sighed as he draped a blanket over Chains’ lifeless body. He stood there, breathing deep as he tried to collect himself, and after a few moments, he looked over to me. “This is on me. No one else, and you have my word that his death won’t be in vain. They will pay for this shit.”
“Yes, sir. Understood.”
“You gonna be able to manage that without blowback on the club?” Torch motioned his hand over at the two cars we’d just shot up. “Bauco had to know we were doing the drop, and if I had to guess, I’d say he’s not going to be happy about how things played out.”
“You don’t have to worry about that,” Grant answered. “As soon as you say the word, I’ll handle Bauco, and I’ll do it in a way that’ll leave them with no means to give you boys any trouble. Same goes for the Reapers.”