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Mayhem sits forward and leans on the table. “We need to make them disappear before they grow in numbers.”
“We need to put them in place,” Riot hollers, slamming his hand on the table.
Psycho has yet to speak and leans back in his chair. “I’m handling it. In fact, I plan on handling it today with Manik.”
It goes without saying I’m happy to help when needed while I’m here, but to have Psycho name me over the brothers he’s closest to, I’m fucking buzzing.
“I’d say take a few brothers with you, but between you and Manik, I think it’s safe to say you’ll be fine on your own,” Chaos grunts.
Chuckles float around the table and if Psycho only wants us to sort this problem out, it’s either not a huge problem or he’s wanting to let off steam and we’re in for one hell of a fight. Either way, I’ve got his back.
“If you need backup, call.” To everyone else, he says, “Keep your eyes open and ears to the ground.”
He slams the gavel down, and Psycho’s out of his chair first and I have to move quickly to catch up with him.
“You got any tools on you?”
Shaking my head, he heads into one of the garages and grabs a flick knife and a wrench.
Holding up the wrench, he tells me, “This is for show.” He tosses me the flick knife, and says, “This town’s too small for copious amounts of violence, but this is for slicing and stabbing in places that won’t cause death. Since we’re gonna roll up on them in daylight, we need to be quick but brutal. The message, clear and concise.”
Tossing the wrench from hand to hand, I say, “I hear ya.”
“From my time watching them, they hang around the Rat Pit pub on the edge of town. That’s where we’re going now.”
I stow the wrench in my saddle bag and slide the knife into my pocket. I don’t know the town well, I ride behind Psycho and take in my surroundings. It’s not the largest town I’ve ridden through but it’s big enough I could get lost here if needed. The pub this new gang hangs at is suitably named. Two of the windows are boarded over and the paintwork has seen better days. Like any town, there are the nice parts and the not-so-nice parts. This certainly falls into the latter category.
I park up next to Psycho and ask, “How many are we walking into?”
He shrugs. Fucking shrugs. Like this is nothing but a quick pint in the pub on the way home from work.
“Does it matter? If you’ve lost your nerve cause of that lad, let me know and I’ll let you watch.”
Barking out a deep throaty laugh, I grunt, “I’m good, brother. Besides, you think you’re good, but I’m better.”
The fucker smirks. “We’ll see.”
It’s quiet outside the pub, but I can hear activity inside. It’s still pretty early but obviously late enough for them to be drinking already. I can’t distinguish how many are inside but like Psycho says, does it matter?
He takes the lead and throws open the door. The smell of stale beer, cigarette smoke, and desperation hangs in the air and all of a sudden, the place goes quiet. Scoping out the bar area, I only count eight gangbangers around the pool table. A couple of old-timers warm the bar at the other end of the pub and a guy reading this morning’s paper sat in the corner.
Each one of them eyes us up and puffs their chest out as if it’s going to intimidate us.
“Get a drink in while I speak to our new friends,” Psycho murmurs coldly.
“You won’t be drinking here. Jog on before we make you,” one of them threatens.
I laugh, pissing him off further. Psycho moves around the tables, moving like a snake. Half the guys watch him, and the others keep their eyes on me. The adrenaline rushing through me intensifies and the euphoria of impending violence has me bouncing on my toes.
“I’ll take two pints of lager,” I order at the bar and the lads step closer.
The barman, well into his fifties and judging by his rounded gut, on his way to a life of diabetes, drops his eyes, letting us know he’ll stay out of it.
Psycho ignores their presence and works his way around the floor, moving chairs and tables. I’ve heard whispers about him, how he’s paid to deal with people’s enemies swiftly, and in some cases, deadly. His reputation proceeds him far and wide. These lads have no idea who they’re dealing with and that’s not including facing off with me.
“There could be a hundred of you and I still wouldn’t be intimidated. I will slice and dice the lot of you up, get rid of your bodies, and still be home in time for dinner.”
His voice is cold enough that it could ironically cut through ice. I clock a couple of the lads step back.
