Chapter 45
Vincent da Silva
An old warehouse on the edge of town that was due for demolition had been commandeered by the Serpents over a decade ago.
The construction crew had shown up to the site the day of flattening, but we had politely sent them running.
For nearly a year, the owners of the property had tried to reclaim the land, but all their efforts were for naught.
Once we rightfully claimed something, we did not let go.
They’d gone to the police many times, even hired lawyers, but nothing ever came of it.
Nothing ever did with Ross Murphey in control.
My arms crossed, I stood on a large platform near the rear of the main room.
Leaning my weight to one leg, I was staring at the far wall with a painted mural of our logo, a large serpent coiled into a figure eight.
Black trimmed in white with red eyes, all of us had it tattooed somewhere on our bodies.
Bowing my chin, I rotated the top arm slightly to visually trace the lines of mine.
Gotten when I was about seventeen, the image had always filled me with a sense of pride.
I’d never been ashamed of my gang affiliation, I’d always showed off my ink like a badge of honor.
Until the last few weeks, I had never envisioned my future without the Serpents.
Now, I was afraid of the very people I’d always proudly called family. The next few minutes would either prove I’d been right where I staked my loyalties or bite me in the ass.
“Hey, man, how the hell you doing? Good to see you on this side of the grave, man.”
Craning my neck, I peered over my shoulder at the crowd gathering, Dash strolling through to head my way.
Wearing a basic pair of jeans and black tee shirt, he looked anything but basic with his hair brushed back and his face cleanly shaved.
The last couple days, his wounds had been hurting more than usual, probably exacerbated because he’d been helping me build my fence, so he was relying on his cane again, but my god, the man stole my fucking breath.
My heart rattled about my chest and my stomach shook, the corner of my mouth tugging.
“Holy shit, look at you, man!” someone else shouted, going in for the gang’s special handshake. They laughed and he tugged him forward for a small hug, vigorously patting him on the back. “Goddamn, it’s good to see you.”
“Ah, ah. Still broken, fuck!” he chuckled, shrugging him off.
“Oh, sorry, man. Damn, you healing like a quickness, aintcha?”
“Yeah, well, it’s easy when you got people taking good care of you,” he said with a wayward glimpse my way.
I smiled and turned to face the gang. It had been two months since we fled Mobile for the mountains in Georgia, two months since we’d seen any of our brothers and sisters.
More than two months since we had an official meeting.
Of course, then, Jackyl was the leader under The Boss, and I was his righthand man.
Hierarchy was changing tonight. So many things were changing and my stomach was curdling, pushing bile up my throat at all the possible reactions we were about to face.
My sight raked over my man, my chest puffing out.
Studying his Serpent tattoo, I grinned at the similarities.
When I got my brand, I hadn’t told anyone, I just got it.
Showing up at Jackyl’s that night to show it off, Dash had burst through the door to brag about his own brand-new tattoo.
My Serpent was on my left arm, wrapping from shoulder to wrist, the head spanning the back of my hand.
Dash was almost exactly the same, but on his right, his snake ending at the wrist.
A chuckle pushed through my nose as I shook my head.
We had always been in sync since the day we met.
It shouldn’t be so damn shocking we ended up together.
If one of us had a pussy, the announcement of our relationship in a few minutes wouldn’t be an issue.
No one would bat a lash. Because we both dangled between the legs, it was going to cause friction, and that made no sense.
Then again, I’d been living this life as long as I could recall, none of this was new to me.
To them, it wasn’t only new but more than likely offensive to most.
One hand lifted to rub the spot between my eyes, a headache tightening around my skull. “Shit.”
The clicking of the cane grew louder as Dash approached and climbed onto the makeshift platform. Peeking at him through my fingers, a battle erupted inside of trepidation, relief, and excitement.
“You packing?” he grumbled while thumbing his nose and bowing his chin.
“Goddamn right, I am. You?”
“Yeup. I got a sick feeling about this, Vin,” he muttered, inching closer as he stared past me to the wall.
“Yeah, me, too.”
“The Boss said he’s got our backs, though, right?”
“Yup.”
“Does that mean he’s actually here somewhere, cuz I can’t really see how he can if he ain’t physically here.”
Resisting the urge to look at the office on the other end of the building, I cleared my throat.
He was, indeed, here, locked, loaded, and ready.
Naturally, he wouldn’t come out unless I lost control, and if that happened, I’d probably be taken out, as well.
If I couldn’t control my gang the same day I’m given ranks, I didn’t deserve the position.
My sight scanned the crowd, wondering who would take over if I was gone.
It should go to Dash, but I had a feeling if Boss took me out, Dash was going with me.
Wads? Einstein? Christ, this was a nightmare.
Why the hell did Jackyl have to be so goddamn unhinged?
He should be here, he should be in control.
No one ever stepped out of line with him in charge.
Clucking my teeth, I cursed and straightened my stance to peer down my nose at everyone.
Then again, if he were still here, there was no way in hell me and Dash would be in love right now because he would kill us himself.
He’d stated once upon a time he didn’t really care what we did behind closed doors, but I had a feeling he wouldn’t have been as accepting had he known it was me and Dash.
We were too close to him, and he was the type of person who believed in guilty by association…
and Jackyl Bianchi would go on a killing spree if anyone remotely considered him gay.
He said he didn’t care, but he certainly did rag Einstein about it every chance he got.
Every time he made a comment about homosexuality in the gang, saying it was okay if they were discreet, I equated it to an angry woman telling their man, “It’s fine, do what you want.
” In other words, don’t, under any circumstances, do what they want.
My cellphone vibrated in my pocket, so I pulled it out and checked the screen. My stomach sank with dread, another curse slipping off my tongue. “Here we go,” I muttered.
“Fuck.”
I cleared my throat and went to the low table a couple feet away.
“All right, everyone,” he shouted, waving a palm in the air. “I’m pretty sure we all know what we’re doing here tonight.”
A sudden quietness fell across the fifty or sixty people watching us, the unspoken name of our fallen leader lingering in the air. Feet shuffled on the cement floor, a couple of people coughed, but no one spoke. It was eerie.
An arm curling around my ribs, I grimaced and hissed through my teeth as I squatted at the table to hook my phone up to the projector. It was weird how during normal activity, the pain was still bothersome, but the moment me and Dash got turned on, my body could shut that off.
A few murmurs rolled through the crowd at my visible show of pain, so I shot them a glare, finding some pointing and whispering. As I was rising back to my full height, someone asked a question that had me pausing midway, my heart ceasing.
“We gonna know what happened in Georgia?”
My mouth running dry, I cast Dash a worried glance. He was visibly uncomfortable, rubbing his nape and tapping the cane on the floor. Sucking my teeth, I finished rising and cleared my throat.
“Uh, well? What, um, do you wanna know?”
“What happened,” someone else snapped bitterly.
Though there was to be no backlash for killing Jackyl because The Boss had ordered it, that didn’t mean Jackyl didn’t have a few very loyal members who might go rogue if they didn’t like our answer.
In fact, it was one reason Boss ordered me and Dash to lay low until told otherwise, he wanted us locked away while emotions mellowed out.
Filling my lungs, I tugged at the black and white bandana tied around my head, my cheeks puffing out with the exhale. “Well, uh. Ahem. Y’all ain’t all gonna like what you hear.”
“Say it anyhow,” Tinkerbell chimed, drawing my attention.
For a moment, my sight skimmed over her, taking in her physique.
Around five foot eight, she had the perfect, slightly plus sized, hourglass figure.
Tiny waist, wide hips, large breasts, small poof to her stomach, thick thighs, and short, bleached blonde hair, she was gorgeous and the envy of a lot of other sisters in the gang.
Her dark blue eyes glaring, she crossed her arms and leaned to one leg.
For years, she’d pursued me relentlessly.
I had always brushed her off as gently as possible, but the last year, she’d gotten rather aggressive, leading to me exploding and saying things I wished I hadn’t, wounding her ego.
Tonight, she was finally going to understand why I’d rejected her all this time.
“Ahem.”
I cast Dash another look, more for support. He gave a stiff nod, his profile to the group so no one could see him wink.