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“I’ll do right by you,” Dante reassured Jesse. “There’s four strippers on their way, and when I say hot, I mean, they will blow your fucking mind.”
“It’s not my mind that needs blowing.”
The sudden rumble of motorcycles caused all the hair on Dante’s body to stand on end.
“We expecting our crew?” Dante asked.
Jesse shook his head. “Nope, I just got a group text from Wyatt and Sonny. They’re setting up for the party with everyone else.”
Dante looked through the shop window and noticed five, no six, bikes idling in front of the shop. The cut on the men were unmistakable, with branded skulls and snakes and ‘Carnage’ written in big, bold letters.
Fucking hell, not tonight.
Dante finished drying his hands and threw on his cut. Then he opened the lower rack of his storage bin and pulled out a sawed-off shotgun and a rifle.
“It’s Padraig’s crew. Take the rifle and cover me.”
Dante walked slowly to the entrance of the garage while Jesse crept along the periphery, out of sight to passersby.
Sure enough, parked just outside their business, were six of the Midnight Carnage crew.
Bold as fuck.
Under the glow of the streetlights, their bikes gleamed. Dante hated shooting up a beautiful piece of art but too often, you had to get dirty to win.
Once he was in range, Dante raised his gun at the man at the head of the pack.
Their president, Padraig Flynn.
The guy had a red beard and a face to match. His quick temper and iron-grip control on his crew was well known in Western Canada. They were big on drug manufacturing and distribution, their base in B.C. the perfect gateway to Seattle and the rest of the U.S. as well as Asia. They didn’t have a huge stake in the gun trade.
Not until they’d started up a branch here in Alberta.
“Drive away, Padraig, if you know what’s good for you,” Dante yelled.
“I’m dropping off a gift for Gage,” he replied as he pulled out a package and dumped it on the ground. “And stop pointing that fucking gun in my face.”
“Drive away!” Dante repeated.
He noticed two of their crew pull out their handguns. He hoped to hell Jesse was ready to shoot.
“You tell Gage that he better get used to seeing me around. I’ve got a growing crew in this region and I ain’t leaving. I’m also not stupid like those dickhead brothers from Death Riders. This here is a reminder. I got a long reach. And Gage don’t want history repeating itself.”
Padraig started up his engine and drove off, his crew following.
When they were out of sight, Dante finally lowered the gun.
Glancing at the package, Dante was unsure whether he should touch it. He’d experienced bomb threats and IEDs when he was in the military. Fuck, just thinking that it might be an explosive device had a cold sweat washing over him.
Then he remembered that Padraig had thrown the package on the ground carelessly.
Suddenly Jesse was standing beside him, staring down at the plain brown parcel.
“Should we open it?” Jesse asked as he lowered his gun.
“Very carefully,” Dante replied and crouched down. “Can you get me a flashlight? Top drawer of my desk.”
Jesse ran back inside while Dante pulled part of the paper open.
