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They had boys in lockup, and Bull paid a fortune to keep them protected.
“Let’s do this,” Rusty said.
Bull shook his brothers’ hands, but Grant ignored him. They were eventually going to have to talk about whatever was up his brother’s ass.
He walked toward the main gates. This operation was so sloppy, or they’d gotten complacent. Bull stepped right into the thick of it.
The dogs looked at him with interest.
Don’t worry, boys and girls, you will not have to fight another day.
“Hey!”
The shout came from the right.
He hated being shouted at. With hands in his pockets, he turned to the growl and saw a man coming toward him, looking less than impressed.
Well, he was pissed off just as much.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” the man asked. He had a bald spot on his head, but the rest of his hair was intact and long. Bull didn’t get it. “I’m here to see a man in charge.”
“Not interested,” he said.
“He will be when he knows I’ve got a pack of dogs. They’ve been trained to kill. Teeth are sharpened. Killed a few men that way as well.” He was talking shit. The dogs back at the clubhouse, the ones that lived with him, they were so fucking lazy unless they thought the club was being threatened.
Most of their days were spent either in the yard sunbathing, begging in the kitchen, or lazing it around in the shade. They had rather luxurious lives, and they were probably the closest thing he’d come to in the way of kids.
“How did you find us?” the man asked, pointing his gun all over the place. He didn’t look quite all there in the head.
“It wasn’t hard to find.” He’d asked Pat to get him all the necessary intel.
The man got closer and closer. He shook, and with each step he took, Bull saw the man was on drugs. Now this pissed him off even more.
He knew what drugs of any kind did to a person. How it turned them into a shadow of their former self and what they never would do before the drugs became null and void. He had seen fine, law-abiding women offer their bodies, beg to the point it was sickening for another shot.
Drugs disgusted Bull just as much as dogfighting.
His father had ended up trying his own product. The greed had set in not too long after that. Bull hated the memories of that time so fucking much.
When the man was close enough, Bull reacted. He grabbed him around the neck and slammed him up against his chest, holding him so close, and he wasn’t a match to him.
The gun was next, he pressed it to the man’s head.
“Now tell me, boy, what is your name?”
“You let me go, you hear? You let me go or it’s going to be your life next. We feed assholes like you to the dogs.”
The urge to pull the trigger was so strong.
With the commotion, two more men came out, and then the third. Now this did surprise him as a man in a suit walked out, and Bull just knew this man owned the place.
His men would already be reacting.
“Marshall, man, get him to stop.”
“For fuck’s sake, Billy,” Marshall said, shaking his head. “Make him stop. I know you can.”
“Well, Marshall, it looks like I found my man,” Bull said.
The two men drew their guns, and never one to like being threatened, Bull fired his weapon, taking out the kneecaps of both men. Marshall jumped back.
Billy started to cry, and Bull hit him hard across the head.
“You have no idea what you’re doing,” Marshall said.
“I think I do.” He pocketed the gun and brought out both of his that had been placed in the back of his jeans.
In the old cowboy movies, he had always thought it looked cool when the hero took the villains by surprise and drew out two guns as opposed to one. Of course, it helped that he’d been ambidextrous his whole life and it didn’t take any training for him to draw both weapons.
Marshall took a step back. “Look, I recognize your cut, your club, and I am warning you, you do not want to do this.”
“Do I look like I give a fuck?” Bull asked.
His men had already joined him. They were at his back.
Marshall was surrounded and outnumbered as he shook his head.
“Who are you?”
“I’m someone who will make your life miserable if you kill me.”
His boys began to chuckle, but Marshall merely smirked. “Your death will cause me trouble. Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”
Marshall shrugged.
“Why the dogs?” Bull asked.
“Why not?”
He didn’t like this guy.
“Oh, I get it, you’re an animal lover. Let me guess, they’re your best friends. These dogs are nothing more than pieces of meat. They make an income, and when they lose, they die.”
