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“Take their bodies. Dump them on Bulldog’s doorstep. He’ll get the message,” Drake said.
Gunner and Apache dragged the bodies out to a waiting van.
“Even?” Ace asked Manny.
Manny shook his head, tone firm. “Not until Bulldog goes down.”
Slick fully agreed. Until that mad asshole was six feet under, there’d be no justice. Bulldog wouldn’t back down until he reclaimed Rage. And they’d no intention of allowing him to live and threaten them and their future.
“He’s next. Only eight men remain out of the original twenty who left with him. Skill, Mayhem, Buzz, Crow, Jiggy, Farmer and now those two pieces of shit are dead. Smokey, Tank, Breaker and Iron have gone and blacked their ink. That leaves Bulldog and seven. It’s time to eliminate him,” Drake said, speaking slowly.
“We’ll call church,” Apache stated.
“Yeah,” Slick agreed.
???
Cleaning up the rest of Bulldog’s crew was messy. Two more bodies hit the ground before everyone else deserted the man. Fish and Gunner were the ones who finally brought him in as defiant as ever.
Ace ensured the ex-president’s suffering before he met his death. He suffered for twenty-four hours. No more. No less.
The secret he’d taken to the grave, the knowledge that could’ve helped Ace, was never uncovered. Instead, Bulldog had gloated as Ace slit his throat with a blunt knife.
Slick’s history was full of death and anger. He had blood on his hands. Over the years, he had watched his brothers fall in love and receive it back.
But as time marched on, Slick reached a sad realisation.Who the fuck would want a man like him?
Chapter Two.
March 2022
Slick
Shit was turning bad, and Drake realised it. Slick could see it written all over Drake’s body language.
They were meeting with a small MC, The Lion Kings, in an attempt at Parley. It was going so far fuckin’ south it was a miracle they weren’t in Mexico.
Slick looked at Barracuda, the president of The Lion Kings, who was aiming a gun at Drake as Drake aimed one straight back at him.
Slick shook his head. With a name like The Lion Kings, capital T on the word ‘the’, it was no wonder Fury had sought them for a takeover.
Barracuda had reached out to Drake for help, and they had walked into a trap. An ambush they’d sort of expected but still had sprung, just in case The Lion Kings had been genuine.
“What fuckin’ part of Rage is Rage, and you got no claim, don’t ya get?” Drake snarled.
Out of the corner of Slick’s eye, he saw Ace and Artemis take a stand behind one of the SUVs that was parked. They also had weapons out.
Texas, with Apache to his left, had drawn and were covered, too, and Slate was slightly further to the downwind of them.
“Ain’t Rage if you can’t hold it. Last couple of years, Rage got pussy and turned pussy.”
A snarl echoed, and he hoped Ace had Artemis in check.
“We got blood on those streets; do not give a fuck. You think you got Fury backing you. You ain’t going to steal Rage territory. Move away, change states, and don’t look back. Rage isn’t giving up what we own, and Fury can go to hell,” Drake snapped.
Slick watched, his gaze clocking The Lion Kings’ members, who were also taking positions.
“Told ya, you can’t hold it. We gonna take it.” Barracuda sent a sneer in return.
