Page 50 of Two Tricks

“If you’re going to play in my world it is. So either find your balls and get the fuck on the bandwagon or go home. I can’t worry about keeping you alive when Harper is my priority,” I snapped as I pulled on my helmet, effectively ending the discussion.

Seconds later I was flying full throttle though the city streets of L.A., weaving around cars, ignoring stop lights, and praying that I wouldn’t be too late. My hope was that they would see her value in drawing me out rather than trying to get information out of her. I still had the element of surprise on my side—they had no clue about her added security that was strictly known between Wes and me.

Picasso was right on my heels, leaving me impressed that he had the guts to pull the same reckless shit I did. What normally was a thirty-minute drive was cut down to fifteen after disregarding all traffic laws. As we got to her neighborhood, I made sure to park two streets over, killing the engine as we coasted closer. Thankfully she lived off a busier street, so traffic noise at this time of night wasn’t as noticeable. Stashing my helmet, I pulled one of my guns as I waited for Picasso to join me. I was pleased when I saw he too had a gun in his grip.

Maybe there was a chance he could survive this war.

I motioned for him to follow me as we headed for the back of the house. Harper was lucky enough to get this amazing bungalow with an upper loft that she inherited from her grandparents. Even better, it had a large yard with a bunch of fruit trees on the property to give us coverage. Once in the trees and as close as we could get, I reached up to my earpiece and tapped it twice.

“Go ahead. I cut the motion sensors and the floodlight to the backyard. The window sensors say that her bedroom window is open. The guys inside haven’t changed positions,” Wes informed me.

Tapping the earpiece again, I turned to Picasso. “I’m going in through her bedroom window upstairs. When I get the drop on the guys by the front door, that will draw the rest of them so you can sneak in the back door and get Harper the hell out of there. Take her back to the compound and I’ll catch up with you guys once I deal with these assholes.”

“Fuck, Dax, you can’t take them all on. That’s suicidal,” Picasso hissed.

“That’s the plan. If you don’t like it, then leave now, but I’m going to save my best friend,” I growled and headed off.

Keeping to the shadows, I followed along the trees as far as they would take me. Darting to the bushes that edged the house, I climbed the ivy-covered lattice up to the second floor. There was a small overhang just under Harper’s bedroom window, giving me a perch to stand on as I used my knife to pop out her screen. Dropping to the floor in her room, I stashed the knife and pulled my gun once again.

Crouched low, I moved my way across the room until I could peer through the railing of the stairs to see two guys in suits with guns watching the front of the house. The way the house was set up, everything on the first level was a fairly open concept, with the kitchen as the central location. Ever so slowly, I stood, took aim, and shot the first guy, quickly followed by the second, both head shots.

“Fuck, someone’s in the house!” one guy called, rushing into the living room. I picked him off next.

“Second floor!”

A shot went off, and I got clipped on the left thigh from one of them hiding behind the couch. It wasn’t a great angle, which is what saved me from getting shot worse. Returning fire, I got him in the shoulder, but he ducked down before I could get off a second shot. I needed to move now that they knew I was up here. Sliding down the wall, I crouched and hobbled down the stairs as my leg burned with the skin getting pulled around the wound. When I reached the landing that would put me right out in the open, I took a few deep breaths and dashed forward, vaulting over the railing as two more shots were fired. I landed and rolled out of the way, behind a large, overstuffed armchair that had been knocked over.

Peeking out, I saw the guy behind the couch pop his head up, and this time I didn’t miss my mark.

Four down, two to go.

“Dax, I presume,” a voice called out from the direction of the back sunroom.

Shifting, I darted over to hide behind the loveseat to get a better angle to see who was talking. There I found, standing with a gun to Harper’s head, a large bald man dressed in jeans, a t-shirt, and a leather vest. The patch on his cut told me he was part of the Mad Dogs MC, confirming what the dead guy in my basement said.

Harper was in her pajamas, the oversized shirt falling off one shoulder where it was torn. She had a black eye and a split lip, causing my anger to ratchet up to an even higher level. There would be no survivors tonight.

“Come on out now, I’ve traveled so far in the hopes of meeting you, Dax. The least you can do is have a chat with me—or do you need more motivation?” the man said, jerking his head at someone I couldn’t see.

An equally substantial man with a mullet dragged an unconscious Picasso by the back of his shirt, a large revolver in the other hand. Did the Mad Dogs only recruit giants? These assholes were ridiculous.

“Still not enough?” the bald man taunted. “Alright then, on the count of three, I’ll shoot one of them in the head, but I’m not going to tell you which one.”

“One…Two…”

Gritting my teeth so hard my jaw started to ache, I stood up from behind the loveseat, gun at the ready.

A smile broke out over the bald man’s face as he took me in. “Pint-sized and deadly, just as described. I have to say, it’s a real honor to meet you. I’m a huge fan of your work. See, I’m an enforcer as well—name’s Doc.”

“Hmm, can’t say that I’ve ever heard of you,” I replied.

“Ha! She’s got jokes, Goliath.” Doc laughed, as did his companion. “This is gonna be way more fun than I thought. Here’s the thing. Mastiff is also a long-time fan; he’s been tracking you since you helped Two Tricks take his place in the underworld. The Mad Dogs had plans, but it seems that the Phantom Saints have once again moved in on our turf.”

“What the fuck does that even mean?” I asked, cocking my head to the side.

“The partnership that you have with the Saints should be with us. We never wanted to work with the De León cartel, but we needed to do something to get your attention. The thing we didn’t factor in was Diego was pinning a murder on you to cause strife in your empire and to get rid of a rebellion in his own family,” Doc rambled on.

“Are we getting to the point where I come in soon, or is that gonna be a while?” I sighed, using my gun to scratch my head.