We’re taking back our businesses full force. They’ll understand the meaning of loyalty and the consequences of their actions.
The rumble outside stirs as each member revs up their bikes, some eager for blood, others for revenge. I pass Tessa as she runs into the main building, a little light in me shines knowing that she was going to be there and for Finn as well.
Prez will lead one group, Jackson the other, and myself another group. I decided to take the business downtown, knowing I had another asshole taking advantage of our business. When I read the name of the business from Cedric’s list, the fucker had still been using us. The weasel probably either feeds information back to the Falcons or covers their own asses with us. Thinking that we wouldn’t suspect them. I think Steve is going to be in for an awakening.
Tailing me is Memphis, Greer, and a couple different older, established members. The height of tracking starts to build up, but that doesn’t stop us as we weave through the vehicles. The storm of beeps and horns doesn’t phase us. If anything we are one track mind, the Falcons are adding to a long list of their transgressions.
After taking back or burning down businesses, we’ll get everything leading back to the Falcons, one way or another.
Jerry wasn’t going to like us in the end, but frankly I don’t give a fuck.
Being smart and parking a block under a broken lamp, we shut off the bikes. I yank my helmet off, straightening my cut, I feel a hand on my shoulder gripping it tight.
Turning to see Memphis, trying to settle my ass down from another mistake, the very least an impulsive decision.
“I’d think twice,” he warns me.
“I am thinking twice. I’m thinking twice to the woman who’s sedated that all she wanted to do was help. Or to the little boy who fears he’s losing everyone around him. Or kids being in trouble because scum like them are putting them in situations they shouldn’t be in. Is that enough thinking before doing?” I snap. I don’t mean to but in the moment, it can’t be stopped.
“I’m ready to burn them,” Greer says, as he cocks his gun, ready to fire at will.
Memphis shakes his, just like the pacifist he is.
Before he can say anything else, I move without hesitation, Memphis and the other members take the back as Greer and I march through the front.
The chime of the front door rings, Jerry and his associate’s heads snap up. Jerry plays off with a crooked smile. “Mr. Johnson. What a surprise,” he chuckles it off.
I look over my shoulder at Greer as he takes the hint to lock the front door and pull over the closed sign.
“Jerry, how long have you been doing business with us?” My boots thumping louder under the creaky floor boards.
You can see the sweat dripping on the associates' head flowing to the bridge of his nose. Jerry bides his time, drawing out the conversation.
“Three or four years I think,” he prides himself in that answer.
“Three or four years, Greer. Can you believe it’s been that long? Longer than you’ve been a prospect.”
“That’s a long time,” He agrees with me, nodding his head as he continues walking about the place. Jerry runs a rinky-dink pawn shop, where his items aren’t all pawned items, hell most of the shit in here is fake, and some people are too dumb to recognize the cheapness.
“What can we do for you gentlemen? Shopping for an early valentine? You know the ladies?”
I laugh, “Why aren’t you the business man, thinking ahead to the next holiday.” I grinned at him. The way he looks at me is eerie. Like he is hiding something more than his own lies.
“I do what I can in this economy.” He says nervously.
We get closer to him, and the stench that comes is appalling. “What about your friend there, Johnson? Surely, he’s looking for something.”
Greer surveys the sales floor, taking in every inch. I flip back to Jerry with a cat-like grin, “He’s on the hunt for something.”
“Oh yeah? Something I can help with?” he asks again. I stalk to the service counter, leaning closer to him.
“For sure, my friend.” I lean closer, gesturing to him to come closer. He follows suit leaning in, I whisper in his ear, as my hand snakes around the back. “He’s looking for a weasel.”
Before he can react, my hand grasps the back of his neck, slamming it down onto the glass counter, without breaking it. He twists in pain and the sounds of groans fuels the devil inside. His little associate tries to scurry out the back, but meets Memphis as he clutches his hand around his throat. One of the members holds out his gun to the associate’s face.
Jerry wiggles under my hold, letting out every curse he knows. I can feel the pulse under my fingertips, a life in my hands.
A life for a life.
