AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“You. First.” Through his pain, he manages to smile. “Sick fuck.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Valentina growls, yanking the gun from Dix’s waistband, aiming it at her brother. “It didn’t have to be this way, Bene.”
Before he can say one damn word, she squeezes the trigger, pumping three bullets into her brother. One in his chest and two in his head, splattering brain matter all over the clubhouse floor.
“Damn, that was hot.” Dix smiles at his wife, but it turns into a frown. “Also fucking stupid.”
“Thank me later,” she scoffs.
“Bene!” Arturo cries out for his only remaining son, lying dead in a pool of his own blood.
Everything is a complete fucking mess. Arturo is on his knees, tears streaming down his cheeks as he leans over Benedicto. Rojas turns to Valentina, screaming, “This is your fault! All your fault!”
Valentina scoffs at her father. “This is no one’s fault but your own,” she snarls. “Rule with an iron fist,” she spits out in a patronizing voice. “Make sure the enemy always knows who is in charge.” She scoffs again. “They played by your rules, Papa, and they won.”
Dix moves closer to his wife, wrapping a protective arm around her.
“Are you okay?”
Valentina nods, and Dix presses a kiss to her forehead, holding her close as chaos erupts all around us.
Nova arrives, attempting to help Benedicto. “Let’s see what we’ve got.” But even I can see that there’s no helping him at this point.
Arturo throws out his arms wildly. “Stay away from my boy!” His eyes are wide, and he’s frantically covering Bene’s body.
“Call an ambulance! Someone do something!”
“He’s dead, Rojas,” Ace says quietly, his expression unreadable.
“He’s my son,” Arturo cries as if any of that fucking matters to us. “Please.”
Banger steps forward and gets in Arturo’s face.
“The motherfucker is dead, old man," he growls. “Fuck you and fuck your son.”
Banger spits on Rojas, his eyes full of hate and anger. The clubhouse door opens, and Agent Stiles strides in wearing a fitted gray suit with a plain white blouse, the click-clack of her boxy black heels echoing off the concrete floor as she looks around at the MC. She smiles at the half dozen or so guns pointing at her and shakes her head.
“Jeezus Christ. What the hell did I walk into?”
Arturo freezes, torn from his grief and stupor by the familiar voice. He turns and looks at Agent Stiles and then at Ace.
“You called the feds? Fucking rats. I’ll kill every single one of you!”
Ace grins. “You showed up here unexpectedly, Rojas. We didn’t call anyone.”
Ace looks up and down at Agent Stiles with a scowl that even I don’t believe. “What do you want, Fed?”
Stiles shakes her head, laughing at Ace’s angry question. Her gaze falls as she crosses over Santiago’s dead body until she is face-to-face with Ace.
“You boys are fortunate I’m not here for you, so I’ll leave your…uhm,” Stiles looks at the blood and dead bodies scattered around the clubhouse floor, “problemsfor the local law enforcement to handle.”
Shades steps forward and glares down at Stiles.
“If you don’t have a warrant,Agent, then you can leave. Right now.”
Agent Stiles lets out a harsh bark of laughter and pokes Shades in the chest. Her voice lowers almost to a whisper. “If I wanted to haul your asses in right now, I could. But I’ve spent the past forty-eight hours with Jack Birmingham. He had some very interesting things to say.”
At her words, Arturo’s face pales. He’s worried, no, fuck that. He’s scared as hell about what the crooked cop might have said.
