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It had only been a matter of time. None of us had said it, but we’d all been thinking it. There was no way for them to get us unless they got out of the relative safety of their vehicle.
Slash reached up, moving the rearview mirror around until, I assumed, he got a view of them.
I watched as he waved toward us, silently giving instructions.
Slash and Seth were to go toward the back of the SUV. Vance and Crow were going to go toward the front.
Which left me in the middle, behind the safety of the vehicle.
I tried not to take offense to that. To be fair, they were each more experienced than I was in any sort of action sort of scenario, even if, arguably, I had just as much experience with shooting.
Still, it was a bitter pill to swallow, knowing that I was not likely to be the first line of defense until I proved myself able to handle the position.
Even as I thought that, though, Slash was calling out to the others, making them rush to the edges of the car, take aim, and start shooting. While I squatted with my back to the SUV, doing nothing but listening and trying to discern if any of our bullets hit home.
“One!” Slash called out a moment later.
But how many were there?
“Fuck,” Crow hissed, falling back and letting Vance move forward.
He slammed back against the SUV, chest heaving, face contorted, making me search his body, looking for the bullet I knew must have been wedged somewhere.
It didn’t take long to notice the bright red seeping through the blue material of his jeans.
“It’s lodged in the muscle,” he explained before I could even ask if he was okay. “I’m fine.”
“Enough of this,” Slash growled, moving to stand, and moving out from the safety of the SUV.
The others followed.
“Get back here, fuckers,” Slash called, voice rougher than usual, which was saying something.
“They’re retreating,” I said, glancing up to look in the rearview Slash had positioned, watching as what looked like four men made their way back to their own vehicle.
“Yo,” Crow called, drawing my attention. Once he had it, he jerked his chin toward the side where someone was running down between a set of houses. “Go,” he said when I hesitated, not wanting to leave him alone and wounded. “I’m fine,” he added.
With that, I didn’t stop to think. Because I knew this was it. My chance to get the guy, to prove myself a more valuable member of the team.
“Get the bastard,” Crow called as I straightened and ran.
I didn’t know if any of the guys followed as the others retreated, or if the SUV was swinging around to get their guy.
In my mind, at that moment, it didn’t matter.
All that mattered was getting this guy who had the home field advantage of knowing his way between buildings and had more experience than I did with leaping over fences.
If I could catch him, we could get some answers out of him, figure out who the fuck he was working for, and why they were coming for us.
Shit had been busy since I’d prospected for the Henchmen.
Growing pains, Malc, my best friend, had mumbled with a shrug.
And that seemed fair. By the time I came around, the old organizations in the area were having leaders that were aging out, leaving their kids to take over. Including the Henchmen with Fallon taking over for his father, Reign. It meant everyone was trying to figure out the new power dynamics.
It also meant that outside syndicates were flexing, stepping to us, trying to see if the new leadership was as strong as the previous one.
Leadership change was a vulnerable time for an organization. Everyone else knew that. So if they had any mind to try to prove themselves as some sort of superpower that shouldn’t be messed with, or if they wanted to take over the well-established gun trade on the upper East coast, making a move while the club was still growing was the best bet.
Or so they thought.
Some of us had a lot to prove. We were hungry to make a name for ourselves. And that hunger made us dangerous.
“Fuck,” I hissed as a loose fence wire ripped through my shirt and sliced into my skin, making me momentarily wonder when my last tetanus shot was as I followed the guy out of the neighborhood and into the business side of town.
Where the asshole disappeared behind an old, abandoned bar.
I did two turns around the place before I realized he’d had no choice but to go up.
“Shit,” I huffed as I got to the fire escape.
Up meant he had the advantage. He could not only see me coming, but he could take a shot without me easily being able to return fire.
