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“You don’t know what you’ve done tonight. Striker will come for you Edge. You won’t survive it.”
“Maybe, but you’ll never know.”
He was suddenly serious, his eyes locking on mine, “Ask Mack about that night. Find out the truth about Ron, your dad, and the RRMC. Get answers Edge, don’t be a fucking pussy.”
“What are you saying?” I yelled, hating how his slurred voice seemed to ring with the truth.
“I’m going to die and I’m ready, but I die knowing what really caused the feud between us. We used to be brother MC’s.” His head fell forward and he let out a raspy sigh, “There’s a lot of shit and lies on both sides.”
“Fuck,” I whispered, certain he wasn’t lying.
I walked away from Akando, suddenly disgusted. Not with myself, but the knowledge that my own reservations and questions about the death of Rae’s father and Max’s exile were grounded in truth. “End him,” I ordered, leaving the carnage in the room behind as I walked outside into the cool night air.
It seemed only seconds later that my fellow club members emerged. Valan and Ghost retrieved the other bodies and added to the pile indoors. R.J. and Jake carried red gas cans that sloshed as they walked. Once the outside of the building had been doused they led a trail away and steadily closer, within a few yards of where I stood.
With a flick of my cheap gas station lighter, I watched the flames ignite the moment the cool plastic hit the gasoline and busted wide open, the flames traveling fast along the path until they reached the warehouse.
Flames soared high into the blackened sky as the explosion rocked the quiet night, popping sounds and loud noises coming from inside. I ducked and walked away from the blast. Finally, far enough away from the inferno, I spun and watched the results of the explosion as another rang loud setting off a loud reverberating boom through the area.
Pieces of drywall, glass, and debris filled the air as the evidence of this night was destroyed. Thick black smoke rose from the warehouse and poured into the cool dark night. Flames licked up the side of the building and engulfed the bodies of our rival MC – Satan’s Outlaws.
Not much of their DNA would remain, but that was the plan.
Enough was left behind to prove a point.
Nobody fucked with the RRMC.
The Ravage Riders liked to send a message when they struck a target. Fuck off or be fucked with. Never ended well for the other guy. I can bear witness to that shit. This night marked at least the hundredth time I had participated in some kind of dangerous and illegal activity.
All for the club.
We coughed and gagged on the stench, but it wasn’t the fire. The cooked bodies were nasty as fuck.
“Fucking stinks,” Valan muttered.
Ghost howled into the night like a goddamn wolf and I ignored his dumb ass. R.J. chuckled next to me on my left as Jake whistled a lively tune on my right.
My brothers, my most trusted confidants and closest friends. Crazy fuckers.
Family.
I straddled my hog with a deep belly laugh and pulled on my leather gloves, revved the throaty engine, and kicked up the stand before I rode away, smirking at the destruction left behind.
Ride or die baby.
Chapter 2
The mood back at the clubhouse was celebratory. Not one injury or complication. Shit went smooth as silk and that’s because I was in charge. Yeah, I might be a cocky fucker, but I had reason to be. There’s a rationale behind why Rafe made me Vice Pres once I was a full patch with the RRMC.
I got shit done, and I didn’t fuck it up.
Brothers came home to their old ladies and families. That was important.
As I entered the clubhouse, the jovial atmosphere burned and clawed at my thinly veiled composure. On the surface I was cool and collected, the same Edge that always stalked these halls, without giving any indication of how I truly felt. Caged and backed into a corner, I felt chained to this life but that wasn’t the problem.
I could live with my choices and the RRMC.
My problem centered with Rafe. My asshole Pres.
