Bruno squeezed his fists together.Oh, that fucker just pushed the wrong goddamn button.“We’d better check them out,” he said, glaring in suspicion. Everyone knew about the dragons, but people rarely saw them. They worked at night, like Bruno. And that meant they had something to hide. They kept to their own social clubs, biker owned clubs, like the mob had their own bars.
“You’re right.” Marco nodded. “But now’s not the time to stir up shit. That’s trouble we don’t need, even if they are a crew of nerve grating, small-dicked bikers. It ain’t worth it, Bruno.”
Swallowing down a shot of rage, he turned his head to his cousin. Locking his gaze on his. “You don’t win by standing by. You win by taking fucking action! Those fuckers can’t ride through our territory and fucking toss cans at us!”
Marco swore as he shook his head. He knew they wouldn’t be meeting Castillo’s man today. Taking a deep breath, he pulled the gas nozzle from his car and put it back in its holder. “Okay. Get in.”
Chapter Twelve
Fear is for the weak
Bruno stepped out of the car and narrowed his eyes. He would finally confront these shit heads who were riding around like they owned everything. From across the street, he stared toward the gated compound. The clubhouse building was modestly sized. A large, patchwork-wooden cabin in a poor state of repair like something out ofLittle Rascals.There were cabins behind the main building and Bruno wondered what secrets were housed inside. He also spotted that one of the front gates had been left open.
Crossing the street, he walked towards the front gates and Marco followed.
When they heard the rumble of a bike engine approaching, they crouched behind a car parked up on the street and waited until it passed them. They crept close to the ground, around to the other side of the vehicle so as not to be seen as the biker pulled into the compound. When the engine shut off, they popped their heads up over the hood to look out over the dirt and gravel parking lot, lined with bikes.
Bruno glared at the leathered man who’d just parked up at the head of the line up, now kicking off his ride. When the biker removed his skull painted helmet to show the sweaty matt of brown hair, Bruno frowned. Hard and shaggy. All lean and mean muscle, like a Doberman pinscher. Leather covering every orifice ofhis body. As he looked at the man, Bruno felt aslow creepingicy chill of something surge through his veins and it was a feeling he didn’t like.
Shit, there are some bastards who you need only take one look at to know you hate.
Bruno glanced at Marco for a brief moment as if to judge whether his thoughts matched his own.
Marco pinned his cousin with a cold stare and smiled evilly. Like he was indeed reading the big man’s thoughts, he shifted his glare to the biker who was heading inside and sneered, “Bikers….they’re like rats. You don’t know exactly why you hate them, all you know is there’s everything right about catching them by the tail, slicing it off, and taking pleasure in watching them bleed out.”
Studying the stranger as he walked into his clubhouse, Bruno felt his hands tighten into fists. He swore. “Repulsive is what they are. Vermin dressed in black leather and patches their mama’s sewed onto their matching vests to make them feel special.”
Marco laughed, shaking his head. “Come on, bro. They’re not worth our time.”
Shifting his eyes to his cousin, Bruno cocked his head to the side. “You’re right, my brother….but my name is Bruno De Luca. Son of Michael De Luca. A man of Vincent Castillo. Mafia. Before I even had hair on my balls.”
Marco scrunched up his nose.
Bruno continued, “I don’t let shit slide with my own men. So you don’t think I’m about to start now with a bunch of good-for-nothing hoodrat bikers?” Eyes kindling, he smiled proudly. “Besides, we’re Italians…... revenge is what we do best.” He would teach them not to ride around in Castillo family territory.
He snapped his head around to face the biker but he was gone. Using the cover of the shadows, Bruno came out from behind the car and marched along the chain link fence to the open gate. He peered inside, eyes darting, inspecting the place all over like a sensor packed gun, searching for life. He knew his presence would no doubt trigger a code red with the MC. He scanned the area slowly. A bunch of bikes were parked up to the right. Harley Davidsons. Gleaming beasts of vehicles. Models all made in the last couple of years. If the number of bikes matched the number of men inside, twenty men were in that clubhouse.
And yet, he could see no sentries, no lookouts. A clubhouse with wooden walls that wasn’t guarded by men with guns?
What kind of shitty ass operation were they running here? Were they so brash, so cocksure to think nobody would dare come for them? Or were they all too weak, too afraid to defend what was theirs?
“Don’t do this, not now.” Marco’s voice sounded behind him.
Bruno didn’t turn around.
Marco scrambled after the big man. “What are you going to do?” he dared to ask, catching up to him.
Bruno locked eyes with him and smiled cruelly. “This is our territory,” he snarled quietly. “And we’ve let those bitch ass bikers ride our roads for far too long. Whatever I do will be fair and just in the eyes of the bylaws of the Castillo Family, and by their own club laws for that matter…..that is, assuming they have the integrity in their dumb-ass heads to live by them.” He turned his gaze and lifted his foot to step inside.
Shaking his head, Marco stepped in his path. “I agree any punishment you send their way would be right and fair...but that doesn’t mean you’ll come out of this without a dime sized hole in your skull. Brother, if blood is spilled I don’t want it to be yours. Something tells me it ain’t gonna be pretty if you or I go in there. Is your life really worth this standoff with a bunch of bikers?”
Bruno felt offended as all hell by this statement. Marco didn’t understand. This was exactlywhyBruno had to do this now. He wasn’t waiting around for anyone to talk him out of it. “Fear is for the weak. I have a responsibility greater than myself. A responsibility I am not afraid of. If Castillo were here, he’d bite those motherfuckers in half at the waist.”
On a huff, Marco turned back towards his car. “Fuck this shit. I’m calling backup.”
“You think I can’t handle a few pretty boys in Hell’s Angels costumes?” Bruno growled quietly.
Marco kept walking.
