The room phone starts ringing.
I open my eyes instantly.
My heart pounds.
Sarah sleeps.
I pick her up and start to make my way towards the bathroom.
RIIIIIIIIN— BOOOM!
Chapter Twenty-Eight
4.15 a.m.
Carter
After the Private door closes, I think, This is interesting, and start walking outside. There’s nobody in sight at the lot. Why would anybody be out here? It’s 4.15 a.m. I go around the back and notice there’s a guy in a motel shirt, rapidly smoking a cigarette. He’s probably just sneaking a smoke during his work hours. He hears someone calling his name, tosses the cig to the ground, exhales the smoke from his lungs, waves his hands in front of him to disperse it, pulls what looks like an Altoid can and takes a mint out of it, puts it in his mouth, straightens his shirt and walks through the door in a rush. Lucky for me, he didn’t have time to check if the door closed correctly.
That’s my way in.
I slowly walk inside and take a left, passing under a chain with a sign that reads ‘Keep out.’ This hallway takes me to a room that looks like a closet with a ventilation grate on the bottom left side of the wall. On the other side, I can hear voices. I only recognize Bad Blood’s.
“You piece of shit. How could you miss the target? You had him right there,” he says.
“I… I’m sorry prez… He was too quick…” I hear someone say in a muffled voice. That’s probably the limping guy.
“Sorry? You’re not sorry. At least, not yet.” Bad Blood’s voice starts to sound aggravated.
“I can still finish the job.”
“You can’t and won’t do shit. Your leg is busted, and you already got one of ours killed. You should’ve died there, instead of coming all the way back here. You don’t deserve to wear this fucking patch.”Woah, that’s harsh. If he loses his patch, that will mean one thing, and one thing only —death. Nobody ‘stops’ being a Devil’s Head and gets to get on with their life. For them, this is the only life. Anybody who wants out dies.
This Bad Blood guy is the real deal. There’s a rumor surrounding him: that he killed his own father to become the president of the MC. They also say he’s a lunatic with unquenchable bloodthirst.
A cellphone rings. Bad Blood picks up the call. “Yeah, he’s back.” The clamshell closes.
A few minutes later, I hear a knock. They open the door and someone walks in. “Leave us,” Bad Blood says, and I hear a lot of footsteps leaving the room.
“So… this is your failure. Why is he still alive?” A voice with a heavy Middle Eastern accent asks.
“He just got here, and I was dealing with it.” Bad Blood’s tone changed, it’s not authoritative anymore.
Who is this guy?
“Dealing with it? Just like you said you would deal with my problem? Huh?” The unknown voice says.
“I’m sorry, Leon. I already have two of my best men on it. We know where they are and we’re about to finish this.”
Holy shit! Leon!I crouch and try to spy through the grate. I can see them both standing in front of the limp guy.
“You know I don’t reward failure and I also don’t like weakness. Show me you can handle this,” Leon says.
“You mean, this piece of shit?” He says while looking down at the limp guy. “Oh, don’t worry. He’s going to atone for his failures.”
“Atone? One doesn’t simply atone after failing like this,” Leon says while pulling a nine-millimeter out of his jacket. In the same motion, he shoots limp guy once in the head.
This dude is insane. He just killed a patch in front of his prez. Shit is about to go down.
