“The name’s Wolf and I am President of the Hell dragons. Youcome up in my club acting like you matter. ”Lifting his gun from the waist of his jeans, he marched straight over to Bruno. He was twice the size of big Bruno, nearly twice his age, and carried with him the stench of stale beer, cigarettes, and grease. A badass motherfucker; tattooed all over, with a scary face, and gold in his teeth.
But it would take a lot more than that to scare Bruno. He’d been taught image meant very little, people only showed others what they wanted them to see. It often said more about what a person was trying to hide. De Luca was a killer if you judged him by his eyes.
Bruno glanced briefly at the bikers and then back to the stranger in his face. These were no killers. They were actors, wannabees, right down to their fat, hairy toes.
Bruno lowered his gun and clicking the safety on, slid it into his belt. “This is a matter of honor for me and the man who threw this at my cousins’ car will do his time.” From under his coat, the big man produced a blue and gold beer can and held it in the Prez’s face.
The other man glared down at the empty can and then raised a brow.
“You want to know why I’m here,” Bruno stated. “I’m here to put a stop to this shit.”
The man swore. “I know whoyou are, spawn of Castillo. And matter of honor to you is of no interest to me.”
Bruno growled. “If you know who I am, then you know what harm I can do.”
He puffed out his chest. “You, little man, bust down my door…”
“No fucking shit!”
He cleared his throat. “…You bust down my door and shoot a man that belongs to me!” he gritted in a voice made of steel.
“A flesh wound! A shot fired in defense!” Bruno roared.
The man shook his head. “Men as stupid as that don’t live long in this world. They’re shot in the back of the head. As for thisarmyof killers you have at your disposal….” The man drew in a mocking breath. “Well, with Castillo locked up in the joint, it looks to me like you and your mob men don’t quite carry the weight you used to.”
Bruno’s lips tightened in rage. Taking out his gun, he pointed it at the other man’s groin.
Multiple guns cocking in all directions surrounded him.
Bruno’s gaze remained locked on the Prez as twenty guns were pointed at his skull, he didn’t even glance around, didn’t look at them.
The Prez raised a hand to his men, signaling to their hold fire.
“From here on out, you’ll answer to me,” Bruno barked. “This is my town now. And I don’t want or need your kind of trouble around here.”
Wolf scoffed, glancing to the men to his left and his right. “Or what? You’re nothing De Luca, mob scum with not an inch of the authority you claim to have.”
“You WILL comply! If you do not, I’ll have no mercy.”
Wolf frowned as he thought about it as he paced, circling Bruno slowly. “See, that’s what you mob don’t understand about us bikers. We do this for the freedom. You take away that and you take away the one thing we want most. You take away our freedom, and we don’t have a life worth living.”
Bruno scoffed. “I would rather bleed out than stand here and talk about your feelings, bitch.”
Wolf growled. “Now, this is how it’s gonna go down. I’ll pay to fix your man’s motherfucking windshield, and you’ll pay for shooting my man with something else”
Bruno laughed, shaking his head.
“That’s an order, not a question!” Wolf roared. He spat a wad of saliva on Bruno’s shoe.
Bruno’s blood simmered. “Do not disrespect me, little man!” He took a step forward.
Wolf shook his head. “Leave now, stay out of our way, and we’ll stay out of yours.”
Bruno could see the man’s point but wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of letting him know. He was a soulless, amoral bastard, but Bruno could tell he was speaking his truth.
Wolf stopped speaking for a moment then went over to his chair in the corner and sat down. “The Hell Dragons will never answer to mafia blood. Not while there’s a breath left in my body…You wanna run this MC. You’re gonna have to kill me.”
Bruno held back his impending laugh.
