Page 4 of Down & Dirty: Rage

Having access to explosives, they could blow up all their shit—their club, families, businesses, everything—then gift the DAMC’s territory over to the Souls wrapped in a goddamn bow.

Territory the Angels have ruled since 1974. Allthe way back to when his great-grandfather, Doc, was one of the founders of the damn club.

The fuck if he was going to let that happen.

He had four generations of DAMC blood running through his veins and he planned on making sure the club was around for the next one and the one after that.

Rage shook his head. “Goddamn stupid fuck Demons got in bed with the devil, all ‘cause they were greedy motherfuckers.”

“Russos might think they got the Souls on a tight leash, but that might not be true. They’re outlaws. They do their own shit, make their own rules, and might not like takin’ orders from those slimy bastards.”

“Or they plan on backstabbin’ them like the Demonsdid,” Rage suggested. And if so, the Mafia would take out the trash for them.

“Ain’t gonna turn out well for them if they do.”

“Yeah.Wefuckin’ know that, but they might be dumb fucks.”

“They proved they’re dumb fucks when they tried to fuck with the Kings of Anarchy.”

“We can be pissed at the Kings for chasin’ the Souls west, but even if they hadn’t, the Russos woulda found another stupid-as-fuck MC to do their biddin’.”

With a groan, Zeke rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Need to find a goddamn solution. Need to make sure everyone’s protected.”

“Standin’ in this goddamn ER’s a good fuckin’ reminder that none of us are protected right now. ‘Specially the women and kids.”

Zeke ground a hand against the back of his neck. “Wonder why they went after the Angels of Fury.”

“Easy targets to deliver another message?”

“Don’t let any of ‘em hear you callin’ them an easy target.”

“Callin’ it like I fuckin’ see it, Prez.” Rage blew out a breath to try to keep his shit tight. “What d’ya wanna do?”

If it was up to Rage, the first score he’d settle would be with the bastards who injured Piper, Bri, and Lyric.

Somehow, he’d need to figure out who the guilty parties were first. It would take finding the right Soul to squeeze that info from.

And by squeeze, Rage meant choking the living shit out of whatever outlaw he could wrap his hands around. But that was shit he could handle on his own and no one else had to know.

“Need to put our fuckin’ heads together and come up with a solution that ain’t gonna put a target on all our backs.”

“Easier said than done,” Rage grumbled.

“No shit. And the fuckin’ reason why we haven’t come up with anything yet. All I fuckin’ know is we ain’t partnerin’ up with the feds like my old man.”

Rage agreed with him on that. “But gotta give your pop credit ‘cause it was the easiest solution at the time.” He could see Zak’s reasoning. They didn’t want to start another war after ending a long one with the Shadow Warriors.

“We ain’t them.”

“Fuck no, we ain’t,” Rage agreed.

“Last thing we need are other clubs findin’ out we partnered with pigs. Gonna come off as weak. Could open us up to other clubs testin’ us.”

“Then we’re back to where we are now…scramblin’ to find a way to protect our property.”

“Yeah.” Zeke sighed, then growled, “For fuck’s sake. Hate feelin’ so goddamn helpless.”

He wasn’t the only one and Rage was the goddamn club sergeant at arms. The club’s protection fell on his shoulders.