by K E Osborn
“Hey, I don’t want to be in the middle of a turf war,” Big Joe declares, throwing his hands in the air.
“Then buy your drugs and guns from us, not the Savages. It’s simple, Big Joe.”
“You made the deal with us, Big Joe, you can’t turn your back now,” Mad Dog chides.
Big Joe looks from one guy to the other. “Hey, you men sort this out yourselves. We don’t need this shit. Mad Dog, here’s your money for this shipment.” Big Joe hands Mad Dog the bag, and José steps in snatching the bag from his hands.
Mad Dog grunts and steps forward to take it from him, but Manuel steps in pointing a gun at Mad Dog’s head. We all aim our weapons higher and Big Joe shakes his head.
“I’m out of this,” he hisses and turns to walk away.
“I’ll be talking to you real soon, Big Joe,” José commands.
Big Joe throws his hands in the air, then he and his men start to walk out.
“You won’t get away with this, José. You keep ruining my deals, and we’re going to have a very significant problem.”
“You don’t seem to get it, Mad Dog, we already have a problem. You stop distributing, that ends the problem.”
“No way José,” Mad Dog mocks.
José shakes his head and curls up his lip in disgust. “Then suffer the consequences.” He tilts his head back toward Big Joe, and Manuel turns his gun shooting Big Joe in the back of his head. Blood spurts from his fractured skull as his body falls lifelessly to the ground with a thud.
My eyebrows cross as his men turn around aiming their guns at us, as the Ingratos storm in through the opening of the building.
Fuck! Wracking my gun instantly, I know what happens now. José is quickly surrounded by his lackeys, as the Ingratos file in rapidly and start shooting at my brothers and the Renegades. We all spread out taking cover in any way we can.
Taking shelter behind a pile of crates along with Jigsaw, I throw myself behind the wood just as a bullet flies past, splintering the crate right next to my face. I duck in behind it further, as I breathe in harsh and ragged trying to calm myself down, as my heart wants to explode out of my chest. The echo of gunfire reverbs through the warehouse, as sounds of moaning and bullets hitting flesh is unmistakable.
Holding my gun up to my face, I quickly look out and shoot at an Ingrato, who’s standing over a Renegade about to shoot him in the head. Pulling the trigger, the bullet bursts out of my Glock and straight forward into the guy’s cheek. Half his face blows off, as his body flicks to the side, spinning around in a circle and then cascading to the ground. Quickly moving back behind the crates, I take a deep breath thinking about what I’ve done.
I just killed someone, in cold blood. I hate this feeling.
“The lifeblood of any vessel is only as God created or the Devil,” Jigsaw shouts over the ricocheting sound of bullets flying through the air.
Furrowing my eyebrows, I shake my head. “What does that mean?”
“To understand is to know. To know, is to understand, ja?” he asks with a great big smile and then leans out from the crate shooting out rapidly and randomly into the warehouse.
Shaking my head, I half-smile wondering what the hell he’s on about, but figure I’ll sort it out later. I have more pressing issues at hand right now. Like where the hell is Mad Dog?
Glancing out around the crate cautiously, I look out into the warehouse to see most of the Renegades have been gunned down. Wincing, I look further out to see Crash laying on the floor covered in blood. Fuck! Opening my eyes wide, my body reacts before my brain does.
“Jigsaw, cover me,” I yell and don’t even stop to see if he heard before I start running.
There’s a guy to my left as I pace out from behind the crate. He’s trying to load his weapon, so I raise my Glock and shoot him in the back. He falls to his knees and then flat on the floor. My feet feel heavy, making it hard to move. Skidding on my knees along the concrete, when I finally make it to Crash, I move over his still body to assess the damage. He has a big knock on his head just above the bruising from where Mad Dog belted him, and blood is gushing from it, there’s also a bullet wound to his right arm. Pulling up his bloodstained shirt, I check his stomach and chest, but there’s no sign of bullet holes anywhere.
Sagging my body in relief, I take a deep breath as a bullet flies past my head and bursts into the pylon next to me, sending shards of mortar and brick dust through the air. Ducking down in reaction, I glance around to see an Ingrato staring right at me, his gun aimed at my head.
My body tenses waiting for the impact. As the gun fires, Ryder tackles him down and the gun flies out of the Ingrato’s hand. The bullet flies straight past my arm, grazing my skin and tearing it to shreds on the way. I’m jolted back slightly by the force and glance down to see my arm bleeding from a graze. I’m pretty sure the bullet didn’t go in, thanks to Ryder, who’s now fist fighting with the Ingrato. Taking a steadying breath to calm my nerves, I grab Crash’s arm and pull him along the concrete behind a stack of crates hoping he’ll be safe there.
“Don’t go anywhere,” I advise him even though he can’t hear me because he’s knocked out.
Turning back, I race out to help Ryder, who now has the Ingrato on the floor with his foot on his chest and his gun aimed at his head. Ryder says something as the Ingrato points behind Ryder. I glance following his finger to see another Ingrato coming up behind him. Pulling my gun up, I act quickly before he does, and pull the trigger aiming at the guy’s kneecap. It hits perfectly forcing him to fall just behind Ryder, who turns to watch him. He aims his gun at his head, but before Ryder can fire, the Ingrato pulls his gun up and aims right at Ryder’s face pulling the trigger. Ryder’s cheek blows off into smithereens, and I yell out as he falls to the floor in a pool of blood.
My heart leaps into my throat as the Ingrato turns to me, but I aim and don’t hesitate to pull the trigger. Blood sprays from the back of his head all over the other Ingrato on the floor as his body falls forward next to him. He looks up at me, as Ryder and his fellow Ingratos, lay dead either side of him. I grit my teeth as I pull the trigger once more and shoot him right between the eyes. Blood pools down his forehead, and I swallow hard as another three men die for no real reason. This gig is tough, and now a brother is dead.
Ryder was a good guy, and he died basically saving me. I race over and exhale looking down at his lifeless body as the gunfire slows slightly. My stomach twists as I wince, feeling terrible guilt weighing over me. Men are running from the warehouse as Techie and Behemoth shoot at them as they exit. A couple more fall but most of them escape, as I take a deep breath and look at the carnage surrounding me. The Renegades are dead, including Big Joe. Crash is out for the count. I have no idea where Chops and Mad Dog are, and José and his lackeys are long gone.
This is a mess.
A big mess.
When the other Renegades find out their leader and men have been taken out during our deal, there will be hell to pay. Hopefully, they’ll listen to Mad Dog when he explains this hit was the Ingratos and the Cartel, not us.
“Prez?” I call out, now all the gunfire has ceased and there’s quiet throughout the warehouse.
“He’s over here,” Chops’ voice calls out and Techie, Behemoth and I race over to where the voice was coming from behind some crates.
We round the crates to see Mad Dog bleeding from his arm, his thigh, and he has a giant gash on his cheek.
“Shit Prez, they got you?” Techie asks bending down to assess the wound on his leg, as Chops holds pressure to the wound on his arm.
“No, I’m bleeding for fun you fucking fruitcake. Of course, they got me. Now get Crash to drive me back to the clubhouse in the cage, so Stevie can fix me up then I can come back and kill those fuckers myself.”
Wincing, I shake my head. “Crash is out! He got hit on the head pretty bad, don’t think he’s in any fit state to drive.”
“Shit, okay. Well, call Lookout, tell him to come with the tilt
tray and he can load mine and Crash’s Hogs. One of you will have to drive us back to the clubhouse, and put your ride in the back of the cage with Crash and me.”
“I’ll do it, Prez,” I accept and he nods as Chops huffs.
“You know I would Mad Dog, but the road crew need someone to ride with them.”
Mad Dog nods and slaps Chops’ shoulder with his good arm. “I know, old friend, I know.”
Techie looks around and shakes his head. “We better get out of here. Knowing José and his antics lately, he’ll probably have the heat here soon.”
Mad Dog nods.” Yeah, the fucking little cunt. Right, help me up!”
Chops grabs his good arm, and I lean down and wrap my arm around his waist helping to pull him up. “How’s the leg?”
He nods. “Okay, I can walk. It’s just a flesh wound, I think.”
We all turn and begin the exit out of the warehouse, leaving the dead Renegades and Ingratos behind. Behemoth steps over grabbing Crash.
“Hey guys, where’s Ryder?” Mad Dog asks.
Tensing my shoulders, I shake my head. “He didn’t make it, Prez,” I grimace in a muted tone.
He glares at me and flares his nostrils. Harsh breaths move in and out of his nose frantically as he turns in circles trying to comprehend losing a brother.
“I’m going to fucking kill you, José!”
Chapter Twelve
We all walk over to Ryder’s bloodied body and Mad Dog groans, sniffing back like he’s really upset.
“Fucking hell, you God damned prick. Why’d you go and get yourself shot, hey?” Mad Dog asks leaning down and resting his good hand on Ryder’s chest.
Taking a deep breath, Techie starts to sniff next to me. Behemoth wraps his arm, that doesn’t have Crash dangling over it, around Techie’s shoulders for comfort and my chest tightens thinking of how he died. Stopping the Ingratos from shooting me, and in turn, he ends up with his face blown off. This isn’t fair, that should be me on the concrete, not Ryder.
“This is my fault,” I murmur and everyone turns looking at me.
“What do you mean, Stealth?” Chops asks.
Shaking my head, I take a deep breath. “He grabbed the Ingrato and pulled him away from shooting me, then the fucker turned and shot Ryder instead of me. I should be the one on the ground, not him.”
Mad Dog frowns and Techie slaps my shoulder for comfort.
“Would be better you than Ryder,” Chops murmurs and I inwardly sigh.
“Chops, enough! Blame won’t bring Ryder back. Fuck, he was such a good brother, I’m gonna be lost without him,” Mad Dog admits and stands back up swallowing hard.
My chest tightens even further and I feel sick to my stomach. I hate that he’s gone because of me. He was a great guy, he’d bend over backward for anyone. He loved this club and this life… and I took it from him.
“Lookout isn’t far away with the tilt tray, let’s go outside and start getting ready to move everything and everyone home,” Mad Dog announces. I nod as we all walk outside, to see Lookout pulling up with the tilt tray. Behemoth loads Crash into the cage, and goes back inside for Ryder as I help Mad Dog into the passenger side of the cage.
He looks at me and frowns exhaling. “You know, Stealth, Ryder would’ve gone down protecting any one of us. Don’t feel guilty that it was you. He went out doing what he loved, and would be honoured to have gone out the way he did. He saved a brother from being 86’d. To him, that would be a win. You did Ryder proud, son, think of it that way. Don’t dwell on this, it will suck you down into a pit you don’t want to be in. Trust me, I’ve been there. It’s hard to come back up from the gates of hell, once you’ve allowed yourself to dance with the devil on your back. Comprende?”
Swallowing hard, I understand what he’s saying. This is all part of being a brother, you fight and die for each other, and Ryder was doing his duty. And one day, I might have to do the same thing for someone else. If I let the fact he died for me get to me, I could end up drowning in a world of guilt.
I get that.
I can feel it starting already.
And I understand what he means. I need to try and let this go, or I won’t be any good to anyone—my job, my brothers, Skye.
I have to let this go.
The drive back to the clubhouse in the cage was a somber one. Mad Dog and I didn’t talk much, but he did reiterate that I needed to let Ryder’s death go, and not let it weigh me down. He said I was too important to let it ruin me now. When we got back, we unloaded Crash and sent him straight to Stevie, who was there waiting for us. She drops everything whenever we need her, which amazes me. I still find it weird that we have to call her he or him when we talk about her, though, but I guess it’s important to keep the scent of who she really is in the outside world, if the clubhouse was somehow bugged or something. She wants to keep her association with the club on the low down and I totally get that. It makes sense.
Ryder was taken from the cage and sent off somewhere. I’m not sure what they do with club members once they die, but I know they have a special burial place for them all. And I know we’ll be having a burning ceremony for his cut later on.
As I stand in the clubroom, leaning against the bar just reflecting on what happened, the mood in the clubhouse is mournful. Everyone is quiet, there isn’t even any music playing as everyone sits around casually drinking beer and keeping to themselves. Everyone liked Ryder, he didn’t have an enemy amongst us, and I think that’s what makes this even harder.
Stevie walks up to me and she smiles kindly while tilting her head. “Stealth, how are you doing?”
Exhaling, I rub the back of my neck not really knowing the right answer for that question. She chuckles and nods. “Okay, well let me look at your arm. You’re obviously injured by the amount of blood. So come over and let me take a look, okay?”
I look down to my arm where the bullet grazed my flesh, I’d forgotten that it’d even happened. I was so numb on the inside, I’d not realized about the pain on the outside. “Oh, right, yeah, okay.”
Walking with her, I take a seat at her makeshift clinic, and she pulls back my shirt and winces. “Stealth, this is pretty deep, do you want some pain relief?” she asks.
Shaking my head, I decline. I want to feel the pain as a reminder of the sacrifice Ryder made for me.
She huffs and shakes her head. “Well, I’m going to need to numb the area anyway. You’re going to need a few stitches, and I don’t care what kind of guilt trip you’re on, I’m not stitching you up without anesthetic.”
Exhaling, I nod, and she opens her medical bag and pulls out an injection and sighs. “If it makes you feel better, the needle going in will sting a bit.” She smiles at me and I fake a smile back.
She’s obviously run this rodeo before and knows exactly how I’m feeling. Mad Dog or someone must have told her that Ryder went down saving me. So she knows I’m feeling all the guilt. She jabs the needle right into the edge of my wound, and she’s right it does sting like a bitch. I flinch slightly, but a wave of relief washes over my chest at the pain. Like it’s a penance for Ryder. And I hope that I can feel some more pain by the time this is through, so maybe I can feel a little less guilty.
The fluid floods in under my skin, and it doesn’t take too long before the pain starts to disappear and the area goes numb. Frowning, I take a deep breath as she pulls out her sutchering tools.
“Stealth, I’m also trained in mental health. I know you won’t want to talk to me now, but I’m here if you ever feel the need to talk to someone about this. Or anything that’s bothering you, just know I take doctor confidentiality very seriously. Your brothers wouldn’t know a thing, nothing you tell me would reach their ears.”
Raising my eyebrow, I nod taking in her offer. I’d love to be able to talk to someone about what’s going on, but I can’t take the risk. Just because she says she’s confidential, doesn’t mean she is. She’s loyal to the club first. I just don’t know if that means breaking c
onfidentiality about rats in the club. No, I can’t take that chance. My secret must stay buried.
She pokes around the wound and I feel pressure but no pain. “Anything?” she asks.
Shaking my head, I smile. “Not a thing.”
“Great.” She picks up her instrument and starts to stitch up my arm. Generally, I wouldn’t want to watch something like this, but after watching the Mexican being tortured, something like having your arm stitched up is pussy play.
“Try not to get it wet and keep an eye on it for infection. I’ll be back to check in a couple of days, but the stitches are dissolvable so they’ll come out in their own time.”
Nodding, I smile and pat her shoulder with my free hand. “Thanks, doc.”
She smiles and continues to stitch me up.
Skye walks into the room and spots me. Her eyes fly open wide, and she rushes over taking a seat next to me while assessing my arm as Stevie finishes up.
“What the hell? Are you okay?”
Nodding, I lean in and kiss her gently. “I am now.”
She huffs and looks at Stevie, who smirks and nods. “He’s all right sweetheart, just a semi-deep gash. Nothing some stitches won’t fix. He’ll be fine in about ten days or so. Just make sure he keeps the area dry.”
“I will. Don’t worry, I’ll look after him,” Skye says rubbing my thigh.
“I’m not crippled, it’s just a flesh wound,” I chuckle.
“Still, I want to take care of you,” she insists frowning at me.
Huffing, I nod and Stevie smiles standing up and walking off toward Mad Dog. “I’d love you to take care of me, gorgeous.”
Her lips turn up into a bright smile and she leans in pressing her forehead to mine. “What can I do for you?”
Moving my hand up to her cheek, I caress her face tenderly and lean in kissing her lips softly. Pulling back, I look in her eyes and smile. “Stay with me tonight?”
She nods. “Of course.” She leans in pressing her lips against mine and the sweet taste of cherry makes my chest tighten.
