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As I meandered to the entrance, I stopped to see their bikes parked perfectly. If I pushed one, it would start a domino effect and the rest would fall. Yet, I wasn’t stupid or suicidal, so I chose not to do that. If you want to piss a biker off to no end, fuck with their bikes.
When I entered, immediately two of the Akdicks flanked me. “Who in the hell are you?”
Lowering my head, then slowly raising my chin, I studied these two with scrutiny. Neither was intimidating. They were comparable to the boys on ‘Big Bang Theory’, not ‘Sons of Anarchy.’
“I’m a prospect from Nanuq Shila and I have a message for the dickwad that emailed the Nanuq Shila president, threatening the Chief’s daughter.”
Both of the guys expressed embarrassment and burst into laughter. “That was Max. Dude is a fucking genius.” They continued laughing and gave each other high fives. “Do you think we’re stupid enough to go after Chief Dixon’s daughter?”
“Yeah, yeah I do.” I answered, clenching my fists as I bared my teeth, showing them I was ready to fight if need be. Gritting my teeth, I hissed. “Who’s this Max guy?”
One guy nodded his head toward the bar. “He’s the big guy acting like he’s a bartender.” They both laughed once more. “Yet all he knows how to do is remove the cap from the bottle.”
I shoved past the idiots and rushed to the bar, reaching behind me to arm myself with the cap gun that freaked Austin out. The two men from the door stopped in my path, blocking me with their hands. “What are you going to do? Max used to be an MMA fighter and it will take nothing for him to pound you into Nanuq Shila dust.”
This was a destructive idea coming here, yet I wasn’t afraid of these men. Widening my eyes, I shunned at the threat. Honestly, it was a ruse, and they learned that the moment I cold-cocked the one who did all the talking and punched the other one in his family jewels. “Apparently, you ill-educated twats don’t know how to communicate without the threat of violence.” I stepped over the one I knocked out and headed to the bar. “Are you the one they call Max?”
Before he could say a word, the door opened and, as expected, Dallas called my name. “Johnny, don’t even think of it.”
Max chuckled and bit down on the toothpick in between his teeth. “Saved by Marquez.”
“Get outside, now! That’s an order from your veep.” Dallas commanded, no doubt, to make himself appear high and mighty to this gaggle of ruffians. Yet, I wasn’t moving. I had a score to settle. My father was shot in this very room and the ugly troll behind the bar threatened to violate me in a thousand ways. Even though the email didn’t use that exact verbiage, it may as well have.
“I’m not moving. Give me a beer, Max.” I asked, never taking my defiant glare off Dallas.
“No, little boy!” Max answered, while taking a drink of the bottle he’d just opened. I never expected to be wearing the contents when he busted the bottle on the edge of the counter.
He moved from behind the counter, approaching Dallas and I had to think of something or he was going to use his weapon of convenience on my guy. Just as Max approached the line of fire, I stretched out my leg, watching the big man fall flat on his face and the glass broke into small pieces across the floor. I slid off the stool and bent over to retrieve a switchblade from my boot.
“No, no -Johnny.” Dallas urged me, but I didn’t see the man behind me until I felt the surge of pain. When I looked over my shoulder, it was the same guy I punched in the balls with a menacing grin on his face. He gripped my neck, kicking at whoever got close to us.
Dallas rushed toward us, but Max was back on his feet with a gun pointed at Dallas’s temple. “You move any closer and your brains will be splattered all over the bar.”
Mushu appeared out of nowhere, with his gun pointed at Max’s head. “Easy there, big guy. I think your club of miscreants has done more than your fair share of bloodshed, don’t you?”
Max spit to the side, “Fuck you.” However, he took into consideration what Mushu said and slipped his weapon back into its holster.
However, this guy behind me wasn’t through with his assault on me. I felt the source of the pain and my shirt was soaked with blood; my face soaked with tears. Yet Dallas was tenacious at getting to me and moved until the man held up the bloody knife.
“I will kill this little twerp if you think to come any closer to me. These are orders from Sarge. If anyone from Nanuq Shila treads on our turf, we kill them, regardless of rank.” The bloody knife he gripped in his opposite hand seemed to move in slow motion as he lowered the weapon and pierced my gut. The man tossed me to the ground, kicking me where he’d just stabbed me, only stressing the consequential pain I was already in.
Dallas dropped to the floor and pulled me to him, cradling his pathetic prospect who had no business putting herself in the middle of this deadly rival.
The men yelled at one another, but I didn’t make out a word. It was all muffled and all I could do was cry myself to sleep, with the hopes I would die and be put out of my misery. No one ever wishes to die, but in this case, I wanted to.
DALLAS
Kennedy Townsend walked into the bar while I was on the phone with emergency services. The shock in his eyes as he surveyed the catastrophe was clear he didn’t order this. “What in God’s name happened here?” Kennedy wanted answers and wanted them now, yet no one seemed inclined to tell him anything. “You were left in charge, Max.” He nudged Max with his boot. “Yet, you left a hell of a mess for me to walk into.”
The dispatcher told me an ambulance would be here in thirty minutes and I disconnected the call. “Mushu? Get me some towels and dampen them. We need to put pressure on these wounds or Johnny’ll bleed out.” Kennedy knelt next to me. “SGT Townsend, your men took it upon themselves to punish my prospect when all he wanted to do was talk about the email we received this morning.”
Kennedy gently placed his hand on Johnny’s neck to check for a pulse. “His heart’s still beating, barely.” He studied Johnny’s face, and when Johnny barely opened his eyes, Kennedy gasped and covered his mouth. I do not know what warranted the change of the man’s hard expression, but sorrow replaced anger and his complexion turned ashen.
Kennedy jumped to his feet and growled. “Who did this?” The assailant backed away from Kennedy. “Jarhead?”
“Yes, sir?” Jarhead asked, while straightening his posture, standing at attention as though he was in basic military training. “Is there a reason this young man is on the brink of death?”
“He assaulted Max, and I took matters into my own hands and punished this kid. He was armed with a switchblade and was about to use it on Max until I stopped him.”
