Chapter 28 #2
“Dude, calm down.” Tats opens the mag of his revolver.
He’s been with the MC for as long as I can remember.
He’s about ten years older than me, but he’s been with the club since he got his motorcycle license.
With his short mohawk in his dark-blond hair, that perpetual sad look on his face, and the tattoos covering every inch of visible skin below his face, he’s a frightening sight. The exact opposite of his calm nature.
In contrast, Crusher is eager to take action. “I’ve been sitting around too long,” he mutters.
“That doesn’t mean you get to act now, though,” Tats grumbles. “Best-case scenario, they’ll just hand Brooks over to us and we’ll be out of here in a few minutes.” Shrugging, he tucks his freshly loaded weapon into the back of his waistband.
“Fuck no.” Crusher cracks his knuckles.
Josh sighs and decides to join the conversation. “Shut up, man. We’ll be lucky if we get away like that. What the hell was Ballistic thinking?” He turns his accusing gaze on me.
Before I can respond, Crusher does. “Oh, Joshie, you afraid they’ll fuck up your pretty little face?”
Shaking my head, I say, “No idea what his plan was. He didn’t discuss it with me.” I nod toward the building. “Shall we?”
Tats nods. “Come on, boys, let’s get him the fuck out of there.” He walks to the door and we all follow him.
Once there, I slam my fist against it. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Josh clenching his fingers over his weapon. I give him a warning look, telling him not to draw too much attention to himself. When the door opens, I spin my head.
Torres appears in the doorway.
Fuck, it’s bad news when the president is there himself.
“Hey, we’re here to pick up Ballistic.” I take out a pack of cigarettes as casually as possible and pull one out.
Torres snorts and laughs at the same time. “You’re here to pick ‘im up?”
“Mm-hm,” I grunt, and put the cigarette between my lips. “That’s what you asked me to do, right? No idea what he’s doing here, but whatever.” I look up at him and wiggle the cigarette back and forth between my teeth.
Torres tilts his head. “Your club member stormed in here with two guns drawn and shot five of my people, two of whom are down for the count.” He snorts. “And you’re coming to pick him up?”
What the fuck did Brooks do? “Five?”
“He put my club at risk for no reason, Young.”
“Well,” Crusher begins. “He thinks you kidnapped his wife and… hmpf.” He cringes as Josh gives him a not-so-gentle jab in the ribs.
“Kidnapped his wife? What the hell do we want with his wife?”
“Well, there have been some rumors, but we already got intel on where she is. Sorry for the inconvenience. Hand him over to us and we’ll make sure this doesn’t happen again.”
The president of the Knights of Mayhem makes a disapproving clicking sound. “Unfortunately, it won’t be that easy.”
“It will be that easy,” Tats growls beside me.
“You hand Ballistic over to us. We’ll make sure he leaves you be, and we’ll make sure you get a pound of coke per corpse from us within two weeks.
Free of charge. You can resell it to compensate the families of the two men you lost. What do you say?
” Tats looks at Torres with a disinterested expression.
“It’s that or you keep him. See how that works out for you?
” He shrugs. “He’s called Ballistic for a reason… ” he mutters.
I almost swallow my tongue. They’re not keeping him. We don’t leave anyone behind.
Rolling his eyes, Torres mutters, “Fine. But next time you won’t get a call; I’ll shoot him right in that crazy head of his.”
Tats shakes his hand. “Fine.”
“Just a sec.”
The door closes again and I spit at Tats: “What did you say? You keep him, then?”
This time, he rolls his eyes. “You think they want that? To be stuck with someone else’s crew member? There was no chance he would keep him.”
“And those two pounds? Where are we going to get those?” I’m seriously pissed off. What the hell is he thinking?
“We’ll sort that out with your dad. He anticipates some form of compensation from us. And your dad will sort it out with Brooks.” He pulls a cigarette out of the pack I’m still holding and lights it. “Relax, kid. We’ll get ‘im back. That was the plan, remember?”
I run a hand over my face. Yeah, that was the plan, but I’m not sure this is the best solution.
“Damn, I would’ve loved to get my hands on ‘im,” Crusher mutters behind me.
“You swing them around way too often.” I shake my head and light my cigarette just as the door opens again.
A battered Brooks is thrown against my chest with his wrists tied together, forcing me to take a step back.
Thank God the lighter is still unlit, otherwise I probably would’ve set one of us on fire.
“Untie him at home before he causes any more damage.” Torres turns to Tats. “Two weeks, no exceptions, or we’ll be back on your doorstep, understood?”
“Will do.” He moves his index finger from his forehead to Torres.
Then the door slams shut and Tats hits Brooks over his head, causing him to visibly cringe. “Are you completely out of your mind, kid?” Shaking his head, he walks to his motorcycle and stomps out his cigarette. “Get on.”