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Jag had taken care of most of them, but Golden Boy and Lex were holding their own. And Lex didn’t fuck around. He had a fully automatic weapon that I didn’t even bother to question where he got it. And I wouldn’t.
I looked over at Golden Boy just as he took a bullet to the side, he looked okay and managed to take out the asshole before he fell to the ground with a grunt. “I’m hit, I’m hit!” he called out over the comms, Vivi quickly broke in.
“Get your fucking asses back here and we’ll have a doctor waiting.”
“I’m out of ammo,” Gunnar yelled and ran toward a big fucking dude with no neck. He took a fist to the face but that was it as his big body fell against the bigger man.
Gunnar grabbed him by his head and slammed it against a small rock sticking out of the ground. He kept going, over and over and over again, until he was more than sure that he’d finished him off for good.
“You’ll have a hell of a shiner Gunny, but hey chicks dig scars right?” Jag’s voice sounded through the comms, pure amusement. “One more left, who wants ’em?”
“Already got ’em,” Max said, seconds after a final shot rang out. “Too slow, Jeremiah.”
Jag groaned into the comms at Max’s use of his given name. “Yeah, good job old man.”
Stitch nodded towards the rock where we’d left Carlito bleeding out. “He’s mine now, right Prez?” I knew Stitch was eager to kill Carlito and I nodded.
“Yeah, go ahead.”
I followed close behind as he rounded the big rock. “Hey Carlito, you fucking prick!” Carlito was still very much alive and apparently had another piece because he took a shot at Stitch as he rounded the corner. The bullet missed its mark and only grazed Stitch on the neck.
Stitch kicked the gun out of his hand, sending it flying. “You shoot like a bitch, asshole!” Stitch wiped his free hand on his fresh wound and smiled at Carlito squeezing the trigger twice, sending two bullets straight into the little fucker. One hit him in the groin and another under his arm.
Two red dots grew into bigger vibrant red blotches against the dirty white suit. Carlito looked down in disbelief at the pool of blood oozing out of his wounds as if the fucker actually thought he’d never get shot. “I still have Marisol and you need me alive to ever see her again.”
“Actually you don’t motherfucker.” Stitch said, still holding his neck. “She’s right in my bed where she belongs.”
“Are you sure?”
Stitch nodded, his smile wide and satisfied, his arm extended with the gun pointing right at Carlito. “Doesn’t matter, right? You’re a dead motherfucker.”
A shot rang out from behind us that made half of Carlito’s head explode. Stitch and I turned to see Guapo standing there with his piece aimed at Carlito.
“Guapo.” I gave him a slight nod. Stitch helped me to my feet, removing his t-shirt and wrapping it around my shoulder to slow the bleeding. “Damn Prez, Moon’s gonna fucking kill me.”
I smirked at his absurd concern that had the distinction of being true. “Not until she’s sure I’ll live,” I grunted out and turned my attention back to Guapo. With Carlito dead he would now be the head of the Salinas Cartel. His whole family had died protecting the organization and I wasn’t naïve enough to think that didn’t mean something to a guy like him. It did.
He turned to me, holding the arm where Carlito’s bullet had grazed him. The guy really was a lousy fucking shot. “Thank you.”
I grinned grimly at his words. “Not a problem. We good?”
Guapo turned back to me. “Yes. We’re good. I hope to never see you again.”
“Good luck.”
Guapo turned his back to me, his business with the Reckless Bastards complete and I knew he had a very big mess to clean up.
I turned my attention to my own men who were hurt and bloodied, exhausted but alive, and nodded. “Let’s go home boys.”
Chapter Thirty-Four - Stitch
“Merry Christmas motherfuckers! We made it through another fucking year, can you guys believe it?” I sure as fuck couldn’t believe it. No matter how happy I was that the shit I’d stepped in had ended with more than a few non-fatal wounds, it was still unbelievable that we all sat around the table, our ladies at our sides.
Jag grinned the widest, both arms wrapped tight around Vivi. “I believe it. We got the best damn club in the world!” He raised his glass high in the air and waited until we all did the same, beers, wine glasses, shot glasses and cups all went into the air. “To Cross, for leading us through another battle and gettin’ us home for Christmas.”
“A-fucking-men!” Savior stood and pounded on the table, a gesture sure to rile up all the men. “Drink up, Cross. We gotta get you primed for a world class bachelor party!”
Moon lifted a hand in the air with a smile. “Hold on. Not until after he’s off the pain meds.” Her eyes went all soft when she looked at Cross, cupping his face and kissing the hell out of him. “He’s been banged up enough.” Moon had proved me wrong and hadn’t threatened to kill anyone. Instead, she’d hugged each of us, kissing both cheeks, for bringing her man back alive.
