“These guys are amateurs. What the hell is this?”
“I don’t know, they don’t look like riders or club members.”
“You’re not ruling that out, though.”
“I don’t trust anyone, you know that, but this feels like someone paid some low-level idiots to stir up some trouble for us.”
“But why? The Widowmakers are gone; we made sure no one was left breathing. No one but us, Wes, and Otto knows we’redigging deeper into what the fuck they were involved in. We shouldn’t have beef with anyone.”
“Your guess is as good as mine. Could be a one-off. It’s daylight, they hit it up before we open, maybe they thought it was easy money.”
“Let’s go talk to Donny, and then we can get some answers from the asshole I kept alive.” Saige walks out of the back room, eyes going right to Chaos, softening at the edges ever so slightly. I don’t know how Chaos does it, has his woman—his life—right in the middle of the chaos and danger with him. I’d lose my fucking shit and wouldn’t be able to focus on the task at hand if I were also worried about Bristol. He’s a better man than I am. While I respect the shit out of their situation and how fierce Saige is, I couldn’t do it.
We follow her to one of the back rooms, Donny moaning as Stitch does what he does best: stitches him up. He’s had every single one of us on his table, some of us more than others. Saige leaves us to talk to him, which I appreciate. It seems she subconsciously knows the deal without having to be told.
“How ya doing, buddy?” I ask. He’s a good guy and has been a bouncer for us for years here at Hell’s Asylum. I hate to see him injured, but he knows the risks of the job, especially with who the owners are.
“Stitches hurt more than the knife. I’ll be fine once he’s done sewing me up.”
Chaos nods before speaking. “What happened?”
“Five of ’em pulled up in a black, tinted-out SUV, broke in through the front door. No guns, just knives, screaming about needing to leave a message and for us not to get in their way.They didn’t seem to know how the fuck to do this, ’cause they sucked at it.”
“That’s what we saw, they were easy to take down. Would have kept them all alive if they hadn’t tried to fight us, not very smart.”
“Yeah, JoJo wasn’t about to let them rip the place down, so he engaged.” Donny’s eyes close in remorse, and I’m sure he’s feeling like shit watching his buddy bleed out on the floor from a fatal stab wound.
“We’ll handle the funeral expenses and contact his family. Anything else to note?”
“Just that they were leaving a message. Not sure what the fuck the message was other than trashing the business and killin’ JoJo. Sorry I’m not more help. Ouch! For fuck’s sake, are ya almost done?” Donny asks Stitch as he glares at him.
Chaos and I look to each other, both confused as fuck.
“They did a number on the place, it’s gonna cost a shit ton to get it cleaned up,” I tell him.
“Nothing we can do about it now. Have Wrath start pulling prospects to get them in here to start cleaning. When it’s ready to reopen, we’ll get more security. This never should have happened.”
I can’t help feeling like I’m missing something. The pieces just aren’t adding up. Why would some low-level street dumbasses come in here to leave us a message?
“Let’s go see the only breathing dumbass left and get some information from him. I want answers.”
Chaos touches Donny’s arm and nods before turning and walking out of the room next to me.
“What the fuck is this, brother?” Chaos asks, and I have absolutely no fucking idea.
We find everyone else on the main floor, Wrath barking out orders on the phone for a clean-up crew to get here. He pauses when he sees us coming. “Hey, he going to be okay?”
“Yeah, being a little bitch about the stitches, but who isn’t? Pretty sure Sin passed out the first time he got them,” Chaos answers like a prick.
“Oh, shut the fuck up,” I tell him, even though he’s right. I fucking hate needles. It’s taken me almost thirteen years to sit through all the goddamn tattoos I have. Only once have I not minded, and that’s my most recent one that just finished healing. The one right over my heart.
“Where are they?” Chaos asks him.
“Kitchen. Saige said she wanted someplace with drains.”
Chaos rumbles, turning and stomping off in the direction of his hellfire. “That fucking woman is gonna be the goddamn death of me,” he curses, running his fingers through the long hair that has escaped his ponytail.
I’m hot on his heels, and sure as shit, we find them all in the kitchen.
