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"Fuck," he growls. "I'm bringin' two brothers with me to keep an eye on your woman and the rest will be at the clubhouse. I'll let them know not to approach or go through the gates but to stay outside and be on guard. Once this is done, you're gonna fuckin' tell me what's goin' on."
"You know it. Thanks, Malice, I appreciate it."
"Call me when you can," he says. I know that he means to call him when this shit is over.
"Will do," I reply and end the call. I turn around and see Ace and Preach loading two trucks with the custom rides. "Need a hand?" I ask.
"No, we're good," Ace says, his voice tight. The air is static. There are four brothers here and I have no doubt there are more on the way. "Call Dig, see where the fuck he is."
"I'm right here," the man in question says as he strides into the forecourt. "Got a call from Tavia. She told me the clubhouse is locked down. Someone want to tell me what the fuck is goin' on?"
I see the bikes of Mayhem, Stag, Storm, Shadow, and Raptor approach. Fucking A. Finally.
Ace informs them of what's going down, and just as both he and I were, they're beyond pissed. They're all informed that the women are safe and the clubhouse is on lockdown.
"Malice is sending his brothers to the clubhouse to stand guard," I tell them all. "No one is goin' to get to them." They'll be dead before they even get to the gates.
My brothers nod, all of them grateful that their women are safe and secure.
"Any idea how many will be comin'?" May asks, moving toward the bay closest to the office. He opens up the flooring, where we have our stash of guns. There's something similar at the clubhouse in the basement. It's easier for us to conceal them underground than it is in the clubhouse. We don't want a kid to stumble across a gun and think it's a toy, although they all know not to mess with weapons.
We all reach for the weapons.
"No idea," Ace snarls. "We can't be sure that this is where they'll hit, but from what they did to Makenna, going for the business as well as people, it makes sense."
Dig nods. "They're targetin' the businesses as a way of stopping cash flow. They're smart in that aspect. It's a great plan."
"Incomin'," Storm shouts as we notice three black SUV's approaching. "We're looking at about fifteen, maybe sixteen people."
That's easy. There are more than enough of these bastards to go around. Preach and I move to the left, guns raised, waiting for those fucks to make the first move. It doesn't take long. The fuckers jump out of their vehicles, their guns raised as they begin shooting. Their shots are wild. It's like giving a fucking gun to a teenager and saying, 'have at it’. It's fucking stupidity.
I line up my gun and start to pick them off, some shots hitting them in their chests, others missing and sinking into their vehicle. I don't stop. There's no time to think about anything but making sure these fuckers don't get to our women and children.
My mind flashes with thoughts of Esme and Tyson, my gut twisting at the thought of the boy. I can't shake the feeling that he's mine, and it's fucked up. I need to push the thoughts away and refocus on what's happening in front of me.
Tires squeal, letting us know even more of those assholes have arrived. Fuck.
"Fuckin' cunts," Preach snarls as he too fires at the bastards.
The Albanians are shouting instructions. One of them—who I assume is the leader—is urging them forward. The hail of gunfire toward us is relentless, but we're not giving up. We're firing back, taking them down.
I continue to shoot, lining up my shoots and taking them out. I'm not great with a gun. I know how to use one. I know how to aim and shoot. I can kill anyone with a gun, but I prefer to use my hands or a knife. I like to get personal with my prey, but today, this will do.
They start to fall quickly. My brothers are taking them down one by one. Storm is his usual crazy self as he shoots while laughing. Crazy fuck.
Preacher rises to his feet and moves along the forecourt, shooting the fucker who’s getting close to Mayhem. I follow him, making sure there's no one coming toward us. But it's too late. The asshole who's in charge of the Albanians shoots toward us. I drag Preacher backward, pulling him out of the line of fire, but it's not enough. The bullet sinks into Preach's arm. I don't hesitate. I fire round after round into the fucker's body. It's almost like slow motion, the way his body jolts and he crumples to the floor. He's dead.
I glance down at Preach and see he's on the floor, bleeding like a stuck pig. He'll need to see a doctor, but he'll survive. I drag him over to the wall and then go back to helping my brothers. There are four men left. The other Albanians litter the floor, blood coating the ground beneath them. They're all dead.
"I want one alive," Ace snarls. "Everyone else dies."
Mayhem, Storm, and Raptor don't hesitate. They lift their guns and kill three of the remaining four men while Dig and Stag move from behind the last remaining one and capture him.
"Preach needs the doctor. He's losin' a lot of blood," I yell as I move toward Preacher. He's lost the color in his face. He's sweating, his face contorted in pain. "Anyone else hurt?"
"Everyone else is fine," Ace says a few minutes later as he joins us. "We're goin' to get him to the doctor."
"May need the hospital. He's lost a fuck ton of blood." The fucking thing won't stop bleeding.
