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“What do you think is in those boxes?”
“Does it matter?” Shades snorts derisively. “Everybody but junkies and newbies know that the drugs they sell are garbage at best, at worst a death sentence.” He shrugs while peering through his own binoculars. “And the knock-off merch they sell is worse than the shit at the fuckin’ swap meet.”
He’s not wrong on either account, which is why we were here tonight to fuck some shit up. Hector wants his MC to be better, but he doesn’t want to work harder to make it better. He’s content with the trash they sell, and he would be more content to just take our shit, product, girls, and territory in one fell swoop. “The boxes are too small to be handbags and dresses. It’s gotta be drugs.”
Shades nods and pulls out his phone, sending a message to Ace as the planned time draws near to make sure everyone is in place.
Jordi is off in the distance, ready to pick off any Iron Kings who make it past me. Shades, Preacher and Joaquin, and the other brothers are set up all around the property.
Wild Man is in a nondescript delivery van ready to disrupt the power and other smart features on the stash house, with Nova, who will act as getaway driver when the time comes. The remaining prospects are still watching the Port.
“It’s time.”
I suck in a deep breath and let it out slowly, my own little ritual to get my mind focused. I do it several times until all thoughts of Kelsey evaporate like Shades’ cigarette smoke on the wind.
I can’t think about her now, those big blue eyes swimming with sadness. The hurt in her voice because I was distracted by club business. Later. After tonight, I’ll make it up to her.
And I will.
Moments after Shades gives the signal, the lights on the property go out, bathing it in total blackness. We wait another minute, watching as they all scramble to figure out why the fuck the power went out at the stash house, but the phones are jammed, so instead of calling or texting, the lookouts are forced inside the stash house to see what’s going on.
“All right. We’re on the move.”
I follow Shades as we approach the property, gas cans in each hand, guns strapped to my waist and tucked into a shoulder holster. The property is so fucking dark I can barely see in front of me until we’re right beneath the first-floor windows.
“Idiots,” I grumble as the inside of the house lights up with flashlight apps from a dozen or more smartphones.
Shades smacks my chest with a playful laugh. “Let’s be glad they’re idiots, or this might be hard.
Get to pouring in twenty,” he instructs and strolls right across the front of the house to take his spot on the other side.
I keep an eye on my watch as twenty seconds tick away, looking up once in a while to make sure no Iron Kings sneak up on me.
On twenty, I sidle up close to the house and start pouring one gas can along the perimeter until I cross paths with Shades at the back. We double around until the entire perimeter is a goddamn deathtrap, emptying the rest of the cans right on the front doorstep.
“I would rather kick some ass.”
Shades laughs and claps me on the back. “You and me both, brother. Stick close. We’ll get our chance.”
We drop a pack of matches at each corner to make sure the fire blazes before we settle on a spot on the other side of the driveway, waiting for one dumbass to smell the smoke. When that happens, I can feel Shades beside me, vibrating with nervous energy. The crazy fucker is more riled up than I am, ready to wreck some shit. I turn to him with a smile of my own.
“Ready to have some fun?”
“You smell that?” Finally, someone inside notices before it’s too late. “Smoke!”
As soon as the first asshole in a kutte runs through the flames licking at the front door, he’s struck down by a bullet that seems to come from outer space, right between the eyes. His body burns right away, creating a giant barrier for the rest of the panicking Iron Kings as they trip and stumble over his body in their bid to escape the burning house, the black smoke choking them and making them stagger.
Two more shots ring out, hitting one asshole in the shoulder the other in the leg, causing them to fall right in front of the first asshole.
“All right,” Shades says, his voice thick with anticipation. “Let’s go.”
The next second becomes absolute fucking chaos. Shades and I rush toward the melee, fists flying to distract the Iron Kings from the fact that we are emptying the remainder of their truck full of shit into a truck of our own. To sell? Fuck that, to burn.
