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Chapter 1
Mason
Five of my club brothers and I were cruising down the highway, on our way to a motorcycle rally in Mammoth Rock, when we were brought up short by a rogue roadblock. We jumped the guard rail, took cover down an embankment, and returned fire as best we could. We were fighting for our lives against almost a dozen men in dark suits. I recognized a couple of them as Don Diavonte’s crew.
I called out to Javelin, “They look like those gangsters from LA who were givin’ us so much trouble before. What do you think they want?”
Jav shot me a hard look. “To kill us, brother. We’re not transporting anything of value. That means we’ve got nothing they want. They’re clearly looking to pick off some Slayers today.”
I grinned at his disgruntled expression. “Well, I say we give them a run for their money.” Catching sight of Corey, I jerked my chin at him. “See to your blood. That boy’s way too eager to get his head shot off.”
I tried not to laugh when Jav grabbed a rock and threw it, hitting his younger brother on the shoulder. “Get the fuck down, you fool,” he yelled.
Ace whistled to get everyone’s attention and made a hand gesture for us to spread out along the embankment. He was positioning us to rise up and shoot our way out of the gutter we were all hunkered down in.
I reloaded my .45 and then pulled out my 9mm. With a freshly loaded clip in each gun and extras in my pocket, I was ready to stop being a sitting duck for some shitty gangster. When Ace gave the signal, we all jumped up at the same time and began shooting.
Just when I needed to change out my clip, two white panel vans came out of nowhere and spun sideways into a cluster of suits. They backed up and drove over to provide cover for us, bullets bouncing off the windshields. One van I recognized as being from the Slayer’s garage. We used it to haul parts for repairs. The other I guessed might be from the security firm our club ran. Our vehicles were armored because sometimes our club brothers needed to haul valuables or transport clients we were tasked with protecting.
Once I got over the shock of what I was seeing, I changed out my clips and crawled over the guard rail with my club brothers. We took advantage of the coverage and chaos provided by the vans and kept picking suits off one by one.
Thunder climbed out of one of the vehicles and yelled, “Don’t fucking kill them all. We need to interrogate as many of them as possible.”
We’d have stood there shooting until every single one of them was dead on the ground if he hadn’t spoke up. These sick bastards had shot at us in the past and were in the process of shaking down all the local businesses in our hometown. They were career criminals and deserved what they got in my humble opinion.
We changed up our strategy and plucked the weapons off of them when they reluctantly surrendered. After that, we separated them into two groups, the living and the dead.
“Load the bodies in one van and the hostages in the other,” Thunder instructed.
Suddenly, Javelin’s panicked voice rang out. “Corey, where the fuck are you? Brother, answer me.”
I dumped the body I was dragging and jogged over to where Javelin was standing. “Did y’all check the gutter?”
We jumped the guard rail, and sure enough, Corey was struggling to get up from the ground with a smoking gun in one hand and blood gushing from his shoulder on the opposite side.
When we dashed forward, we saw a young mobster in a suit laying on his back, staring blankly up at the bright blue sky. He was a few yards in front of Javelin’s struggling brother. The baby-faced kid looked to be no more than eighteen or nineteen and had a gaping wound in his chest. It sickened me to see kids drawn into violence and dead at such a young age.
We squatted down in front of Corey and his brother started tending to his shoulder wound.
I gently smacked the back of his head. “Idiot.”
Corey grimaced. “What the hell?”
Javelin ripped a piece of his shirt off and pressed it against the wound. “He’s right. How did you manage to get yourself shot?”
“We told you to keep your head down.” When he frowned, I asked again, “Why weren’t you being careful? They nearly killed you.”
“I was careful,” he replied in a pained voice, watching his brother’s blood-stained hands work over his shoulder.
I was angry, probably because my adrenaline was still up from the gun fight. “You were being careful, my ass! If you were being careful, you wouldn’t be bleeding out right now.”
Corey made a pained sound and growled at his brother, “If you keep pushing like that, you’re gonna dislocate my shoulder.”
Javelin motioned for me to help him up. “It’s already dislocated. You’ll be lucky if your artery doesn’t rupture on the way to the hospital.”
We hauled Corey up the embankment and over the guard rail, then into one of the vans. “This one needs to go to a hospital. He’s in bad, bad shape, Thunder.”
Thunder motioned for us to load him up. “We’ll take care of business here. Take care of your brother, Jav.”
