Havoc (Storm MC 7)

I pointed at Dickhead Number One, and Griff moved towards him. Speaking in a low, menacing tone, he asked, “How’s this gonna play out, motherfucker?”

“I ain’t got the money if that’s what you’re asking.”

Griff didn’t waste time; his knuckles collided with the guy’s cheek a moment later. “Shall we begin again?”

Number One glared at Griff, and spat at his feet before saying, “You can’t get fucking blood out of a stone, asshole. Tell King he’ll get his money when I have it.”

My fist itched to be used but I waited for Griff’s signal. He’d been clear in his directions for this job; he wanted to have first go at these idiots before letting me loose. So I watched him, and I waited, because sure as fuck, these dickheads would need me to encourage them to pay up.

Griff’s hands latched onto Number One’s shirt, and he pulled the idiot towards him before spinning him around, letting him go, and punching him so hard in the face that the guy fell to the ground. Standing over him, Griff bent at the waist and bellowed in his face, “You ever fucking spit on me again, and you might not have a mouth left to fucking produce spit.?

? He straightened, and indicated for the guy to get up before turning to Dickhead Number Two. Pointing at him, he ordered, “You start thinking seriously about your next move. King wants the money you owe him too.” Turning back to Number One, he was pissed to find the guy still trying to get up. He shook his head and raised his fist, but I was surprised to see him lower it almost straight away, and turn to walk my way.

I gave him a questioning look but didn’t say anything; Griff wasn’t a big talker so I usually tried to keep communication with him to a minimum.

He shook his head in annoyance. Jerking his thumb in the guys’ direction, he muttered, “Fucked if I could be bothered. They’re all yours. I don’t have the fucking inclination to deal with this shit today.”

I nodded, thankful that Griff passed the job to me. It had been a shit week so far and I needed to get rid of my pent-up anger and frustration; these motherfuckers would help me with that. Griff pulled out his phone and made a call, leaving me to it.

Adrenaline coursed through me. This was the best part of my job, and I was fucking good at it. The results spoke for themselves and the club often called me in to take care of their shit around the country. I took a step towards Dickhead Number One, my gaze glued to his. Fear lurked in the depths of his eyes, and rightly so. I lifted my chin at him, and asked, “You got the money or do we have to find another way to settle this?”

He laid on the bullshit and I dug deep for the patience needed to deal with him. “I can probably come up with half of it by tomorrow,” he said.

Failing to find any patience, I took one last stride in his direction, pulled my arm back, and smashed my fist into his face. I welcomed the blood that flew at me; I fucking lived for that blood. Not giving him time to catch a breath, I backed the first punch up with another one to his gut. He doubled over in agony, expletives streaming from his mouth. My mind wasn’t even processing his words; it was intently focused on delivering more pain to him. I continued to land punches on his face and body until he collapsed onto the ground and curled himself up into a ball, trying desperately to shelter himself from me.

“Stop!” he screamed, drawing me from my violent haze.

I pulled back, caught my breath and demanded, “You got the money now, motherfucker?”

“Not all of it, but—”

I didn’t give him time to finish that sentence. Bending down, I reefed him up, and slammed him backwards against the wall. Moving close, I snarled, “There will be no negotiations. Either you’ve got the fucking money or you don’t.”

“And if I don’t? What happens then?”

Narrowing my eyes on him, I asked, “This the first time you’ve ever owed King money?”

“Yeah, why?” He was doing a damn good job at appearing unaffected, but his tells were there and I could read them all.

“I just thought I’d educate you a little, because it seemed to me like you were under the impression there are options here. When you owe King that kind of money, you pay.” I paused for a moment to let that sink in. When he showed no signs of understanding, I elaborated. “You either pay up or King finds another way to encourage payment.”

His brow furrowed. “Not sure I’m following,” he said.

Fuck me.

“Jesus fucking Christ, you're a dumb cunt, aren’t you?” I muttered. Seriously, how this fucker managed to get through life astounded me. I reached for the back of his head, grabbed a handful of his hair, and pulled his head back. Leaning close to his face, I asked, “You like breathing, motherfucker? You like your family members breathing? 'Cause if you fuckin’ do, you better pay King his fuckin’ money.” I let his hair go and smacked the back of his head. “You following now?”

Before he could reply, his friend cut in. “Whatever he’s short, I can put in.”

I turned to face him. “Someone with some fuckin’ brains. And what about the money you owe?”

Nodding furiously, he agreed to pay up. “I can cover it all. Just leave our families out of this.”

I could smell his fear. That got my blood pumping almost as much as using my fists. “Your friend can’t come up with his money till tomorrow, but I’m not waiting till then. You good to cover him in the meantime?”

“Yes,” he said. “No problem. I’ll go now and get it. Should I meet you back here?”

I chuckled. “Not fuckin’ likely, dickhead. We’ll all get the money.”