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He confirmed that he was working on our parents’ homicide. He wrote one name on a slip of paper: Armand Rodríguez, the notorious, elusive head of Víboras.
Rumor on the street is that no one has ever seen Armand except the three people closest to him. They’ve all signed over the lives of their firstborn for secrecy. If his secret ever leaks, their kids are dead.
Who the fuck wants to be a part of an organization like that? Yeah, the Sinners are blood in, blood out, but we don’t sacrifice our fucking children for it, and neither are we required to.
There are still so many unanswered questions. What does Armand have to do with our parents’ homicide? Why was Ryan shot? Why doesn’t he want his lieutenant and partner to know who did this to him?
Those questions weren’t answered because he clearly didn’t want to speak in front of his brothers in blue. While the policy only permits one visitor at a time, the rules have been bent since Ryan’s arrival because of who he is and who I am.
Simone doesn’t know it, but Dr. Lennox and I were good friends in high school. While we don’t harbor ill feelings for one another, our lives dictate we take different paths.
I’d already spoken with him about giving her some time off, but he firmly stated it would be up to her and he’d back her on whatever he decided. I asked him not to let her know I was behind his request.
With everything happening in my world, I’d left my apartment and headed straight for the clubhouse. Armed with a plan, I’ve recruited a few of my brothers to begin retribution.
We rip through the streets with our straight pipes, announcing our arrival and putting deadly fear in the residents of East Oakland. Most might be scared to run these streets at night, but I don’t give a fuck. It’s not just because I’m a Sinner, but it’s because someone dared fuck with my brother.
Taking a right off B Street onto 95th,we roar down to the end of the street. I stop in front of the second house from the corner of A and 95thStreets, and my brothers roll forward, pulling over into the shadows along the way until the last bike parks down near B Street.
The rattle of our pipes drowns out the sound of raucous laughter, arguing, and crying babies up and down the street until we cut our engines and wait in the dark shadows of the night.
A black van passes through and takes a right onto A street. A few other cars pass through, and I know they can’t see me in all black, standing only a few feet from Grenade.
Three minutes later, the black van passes again as a couple of women walk down the street. I watch a guy pull one of them toward the gate he just stepped from. She pushes him, and he grabs her as the other girl stands by fussing but doing nothing to help.
As much as I want to get involved, I’m on a different mission. We don’t believe in harming women or any sexual atrocities against them.
I glance down the street to where my brothers are, and I know they are watching me, waiting for a sign. The slightest move I make will throw them off.
I sigh when another man walks onto the porch and yells at the first. The first man releases the woman’s arm, and the two women head down the street again.
The green door to the house at number thirty-five opens, and I almost miss it because I’m watching the two women escape. The bright lights and the noise of a television filter out into the night, mingling with the other sounds.
A short Hispanic woman with red hair grabs a man’s hand, and he turns back to kiss her. She says something and laughs before stepping back inside and closing the door behind her.
The man stumbles down the three short steps and makes his way to the iron gate, opening it. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a key fob aiming it at an older Camry. The lights flash as the doors unlock, and he draws closer.
I push off the gate to his right. Startled, the man reaches for a gun but not quick enough before I’m on him with mine pressed against his temple.
“Don’t move, bitch,” I snarl in his ear just as the black van comes to a halt before us, and I remove Cutter’s keys from his hand.
Texas and Hurricane hop out of the van driven by Stitch as I hit the man in the head, causing him to crumple at my feet. I toss the keys to Texas, and he and Hurricane grab Cutter, carrying his dead weight to the van and tossing him inside.
Hurricane hops into the van with Stitch, and Texas slides into Cutter’s car and starts it up.
I’m back on my bike, and my brothers and I roll out within two minutes of the man leaving the house. Once we’re on International, the sound of our pipes revs up once more as we make our way to the warehouse.
I’m killing Cutter tonight. He has nothing to offer me but his soul. He’s done all the harm he can do, and I’m pretty sure Armand Rodríguez is behind the hit on my brother’s life. I just need to know why and where to find him.
A soft rain starts to patter the pavement around us, darkening it to an onyx color, and little pebbles sparkle on the ground like diamonds as we make our way to the abandoned warehouse.
“Wake him up,” I shout to Texas and Hurricane when we arrive, hopping off my bike and grabbing my metal chain from the back. I drape it around my neck and stroll up to the warehouse doors.
I wait for them to unload the cargo and haul his ass inside. Axle eyes me cautiously, kicking at a loose pebble on the warehouse floor.
“What?” I ask.
Turning his lips down, he shakes his head.
