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“One single move, and it’s over,” Drake whispered. “I come at your face; you came at my back.”
Slick moved closer, ready to defend his pres; Drake needed to know he had their support.
Pres pressed harder, and blood appeared in a thin line.
Fear encased Bulldog’s face.
“Leave,” Ace hissed. “Tonight, you get peace. Tomorrow, it’s war and certain death.”
Drake stepped away and nodded. “On my VPs say so.”
One by one, the excommunicated ex-members of Rage filed out.
“Blood gonna be spilled, asshole. You’re not keeping Rage,” Thunder blustered and sent hate-filled looks at Drake and Ace.
Ace stared expressionless, and Drake grinned. Brothers shuddered at the grin. It promised pain, death, and retribution.
Manny
A month later, Manny pulled into Rage. Bulldog’s crew had been causing trouble—again. So he’d done a sweep with Mac. War had broken out between the two factions. Drake’s Rage and Bulldog’s Rage Revenge were fighting, and blood was spilling.
Bodies had dropped on Bulldog’s side, too, but, most notably, they’d lost Ghost. His death had hit them all hard. Everyone focused solely on the battle, unsure of how to handle Ghost’s memory. The time to grieve hadn’t made itself know as Rage fought for every inch of the street.
Rage was not only fighting Bulldog but handling dealers, pimps, gangs and whatever else the streets wanted to throw at them. Block by block, they were gaining back territory.
Mac swung off the bike next to him, and Manny raised an eyebrow. His brother was chatting away while Manny gazed around them, something making him alert. He saw a figure come out of the shadows, arm lifted towards them.
With a yell, he slammed into Mac, and his brother hit the ground.
Before Manny could move, a bullet shot into his back, and for a few seconds, he stood there, stunned.
Then, a second pierced him.
And he fell to his knees.
He met Mac’s horrified stare and face-planted the floor.
Mac scrambled to reach him, but Manny, spitting blood, rolled and covered Mac’s body. They wouldn’t take two of them out. Not today.
Yells from the clubhouse echoed, and booted feet raced past him, and shots were fired. Drake hit his knees beside him and turned him over.
“He’s taken three. Two shoulder and one in the gut. Call nine-one-one!” Drake yelled.
Manny felt pressure on his back as Drake covered the wounds. Another pair of hands caressed his face, and he gazed into Silvie’s stunning face.
“Don’t you die on me, Manny,” she ordered.
Well, fuck him. Silvie was weeping for him. He longed to reassure the beautiful woman, but all he could do was spit up blood.
A second pair of hands pressed against his back. The pressure made him want to groan, but there wasn’t room for sounds as blood clogged his throat.
“Silvie, get the hell out of here!” Apache yelled, skidding to a stop next to her as a wave of shooting began.
“Not leaving him, Apache,” the stubborn woman argued loudly as Apache forced her to the ground and covered her body with his own. Her warm hands didn’t leave Manny’s face despite Apache yelling and cursing at her.
“It’s Prince and Mad Dog.” Ace’s voice sounded close. “We got them. Locking them down until Rage is clear.”
Sirens wailed as an ambulance rushed towards them. EMTs pushed his brothers out of the way. Padding the shots, they rolled him onto a backboard and began moving quickly with him.
