“Your hard on for guns matches mine, brother.” Hawk laughs taking it from 81 and opening fire into the shed. Sunlight filters through the thousands of holes now in the once solid building.
“Guns and bombs are kinda his thing,” Viper says winking at his best mate, they are tight these two.
“Then, boy, you have your standard Beretta 925S and for the man, the killer himself Ghost, we have at his request a sexy Beretta Px4 Storm.” Flames eyes glow as he unwraps it from the skull bandana that he had carefully wrapped it in and carried it inside his cut this whole time.
“Ahh yes, for his personal collection.” Taking the gun, holding it up to the light the sun glints over the sliver. Fuck, that is one sexy gun.
“He has great taste,” I say to Hawk as he follows the gun as 81 wraps it back up and places it inside his cut.
“Well, boys, doing business with you is always such a cock hardening experience…” Before he can finish a wolf whistle from a prospect followed by open fire rings put as we all grab a gun. Flame pulls Viper back behind the van fast to get him out of the way as a fuck ton of Mexicans roll in from all directions even behind the shed and a few from the car that we shot up minutes ago.
“Whooooooa a fucking party let’s do it boys,” 81 screams pulling two of his pieces from his cut and opening fire. Flame and I follow suit. Knox and Hawk are already on the AKM’s and some prospects that we all brought open up on the
supply of guns we all carry inside our vans for this type of shit. Dust flies up around us as the sound of guns fire ricochets out.
For some fucking fucked up reason Agony of the Damned by Toxic Holocaust starts to play around us. Screaming and gun fire mixed with the strangled sounds of men hit, bleeding out all around us. Time to get to the bottom of this fucking shit. I step out with a colt in one hand and my regular pistol in the other.
Hawk and 81 see my beeline for the cock sucker sitting on the hood of a black SUV. He is smiling as men fall around him. As I advance on him the boys, all the boys, followed suit. It’s not long before I reach the smiling Mexican. Two of his men flanking each side of him, the rest laying in pools of their own blood. I fucken hope we haven’t lost any. He begins to clap his hands as my gun raises pointing at his head.
“Well done, boys,” he smirks out. ‘Really, you dick, are you mental’ runs through my head. Viper reaches my side, his gun drawn and his other hand holding his side. Stealing a look down I see fresh blood and it’s oozing through his shirt and fingers. That looks fucking bad. Senna is going to kill us all for this.
“You’re fucked, Mexican,” 81bites out as Hawk walks up closer to him, his gun right at the man’s temple. His men pointing their guns at me turn fast to point theirs to Hawk’s face.
“Easy, boys. Easy.” His hands go up to his men. “Lower your weapons.” His voice is cocky and smug, and his men do as they are told like good dogs. Us, though, we aren’t owned by a cock for a human, so we keep ours raised and on them.
“Who the fuck are you?” Viper bites out sweat rolling down his face.
“A ghost of your presidents past,” he spits at Viper’s feet while my finger clenches over the trigger.
“We come with a warning that the blood shed years ago isn’t forgotten. Land taken, ruling stolen and life gone. I will avenge my father’s past. This is just the start.” He slides down from the hood, my gun right between his eyes, and he pushes forward. I could splatter his fucking brains all over us right now. Viper’s hand on my shoulder steadies me, stops me from killing him.
“Leave it, brother,” his voice is forced through gritted teeth.
“You’re fucking lucky, Polla.” I spit at his feet. “Didn’t know you knew Mexican, brother.”
Hawk says, “I’m impressed.”
“Not the time, brother,” 81 bites out as Flames laughs
“Well it’s kinda a mood lifter, isn’t it?”
“Shut up,” one of the cock breaths minions yells out to us. His leader looks at him, and my gun follows his head as he moves, itching to blow the fucker away.
“Dile a tu president que vamos,” (tell your president we are coming) he spits out, walking from us to the back door of the SUV. He motions with his fingers to his eyes back to us, “We are watching.” His face splits in a sick grin.
Stepping into the car, his minions follow, then driving off in a dust cloud. The space between us silent as we all look around.
“Anyone dead?” Hawk yells out as we walk back to the vans and bikes. Viper is scratching the back of his neck; his face is pained with concern in his eyes.
“Well, that’s a complication, isn’t it?” 81 says. “I kinda feel like I wanna stay and fuck up some Mexicans,” he says while sliding into his van as his prospects pick up his guns.
“Follow us to the hotel,” Viper yells out to the boys as we roll out leaving the carnage behind, they ain’t our men to clean up.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Capone
Pulling up a chair outside in the sun cracking the top off a beer listening to Viper shoot the shit with Hawk. I flick a text to Say. Shit went down won’t be back tonight ring you later.
