“Fucking fantastic,” Lefty said laughing. “What you got?”
“They wanted to start a war and run back like little bitches. Let’s call them out. We cocktail their ass and while they’re scrambling to put out fires and try to figure out what the fuck is going on…another team checks out the warehouses. I want to know what the fuck he’s sitting on.”
“You planning on this in broad day light?” Lefty asked skeptically.
“I’m bold, not stupid. I figure it’ll take us that long to get set up. Let’s get the blue prints for the warehouse, so we have the layout. I want to be in and out. Strider, go gather some cocktail makings and figure out who you’ll be taking with you.”
“Yes, Pres,” Strider answered and walked to the bar. “Rusty, Sphinx, come with me.”
The club filled with motion as Demon continued to give orders and they pulled together to execute the new plan.
Demon crouched in the back of the rusted out wreck they’d procured. He’d wanted to be at the ware house, but he wanted to make this ride even more. He owed this fuck pain and only delivering it personally would sooth the monster that lurked inside him. He gripped the bottle in his hand, careful not to jar the fifteen at his feet. They were going in two cars. Suited in vests and dressed in black, they’d left their vests at home. Now wasn’t the time to be waving their flags around. They’d wait until the final act for that.
The car pulled away from the curb. Anticipation made his muscles tighten. He clenched his jaw staring from beneath the black knit cap pulled low on his forehead. His lungs ached as he slowed his breath almost afraid breathing too hard would fuck things up. They needed this to go off without a hitch. The minute they pulled up in front of the gated area all hell was going to break loose.
Demon smirked. Hell raising…My specialty.
Shouting sounded as they pulled up and he held out his hands for the bottles Rusty was lighting. The first one smashed a few yards from the gate. Each one that followed went a bit further as his pitching arm warmed up. A group of bikes caught and began to burn. The yelling grew closer, feet pounded over the pavement and the front door swung open. A group of men piled out, guns ready.
The shots began to fire while Strider peeled off with Sphinx and Tag behind them. Smoke billowed up from the tires.
The gate pulled open and the men scrambled to get onto their bikes and give chase.
Heart in his chest, Demon continued to throw bottles, leaving a trail of fire behind. They hit the designated spot three streets over and he pitched his last three bottles onto the highly flammable burn pile that stretched the length of the street, horizontally from one end to the other. The flames began to lick the yards of homes. Lights went off and sirens sounded in the distance. Timing and anonymous tips were a life saver. Eat a dick motherfuckers.
As they roared off victorious, his mind turned to the others. Did they get into the warehouse? What the fuck was there?
They drove to the junk yard, parked their cars outside the lot and quickly excited. A group of prospects set on their bikes watching and waiting.
“Let’s ride back to the clubhouse. Out part is finished.” Demon said.
The sound of breaking glass ripped Ardy from her slip. She rolled out of the bed still asleep and struggled to get her sleep laden brain to boot up. Still clumsy, she crawled to the door like a newborn colt learning to walk. Ears straining, she held her breath. Did they find us?
“Shit!”
The hissed female whisper turned her fear to anger. Dumb ass bitch almost got shot. Pushing herself up on her forearms, she glanced at the bedside table. What the hell is she doing out in the kitchen at two in the morning? Where’s Demon? Worried Gia might know something she didn’t, she pushed up onto her feet, stretched her arms above her head and rolled her neck to remove the night time stiffness that had settled in. Sighing, she pushed the door open and crept down the hallway. She paused at the doorway
in the kitchen. Are you fucking kidding me? A half empty bottle of Whiskey sat on the table. A broken tumbler lay on the wooden floor. “What the hell are you doing?”
Gia jumped, knocking into the table. The glass danced around on the edge before settling down on the table.
“Shhh, there are kids sleeping,” Ardy hissed motioning her head toward the doll.
“So, sorry.” Gia waved her hands in the air.
“You are fucking two sheets to the wind. Go stand in the corner while I clean this up. The last thing we need you to do is slice yourself open out here.” Ardy shook her head. Is this what happens to people who fall for people who aren’t into them? This is some high school teen drama behavior. Wondering if Demon left her with a psycho, Ardy moved to the front door, slipped on a pair of flip-flops and returned to the kitchen.
Gia rested against the counter with glossy eyes and a vacant expression.
Rolling her eyes, Ardy grabbed a brown and dustpan and began to clean up the mess.
“This isn’t about Demon.” Gia slurred.
“I’m sure it’s not,” Ardy said, too tired to fuss with a drunk. The kids would be up bright and early, no matter how little sleep she got.
“You’re like the fucking Brady Bunch, only not too many kids.” Gia snickered.
Shaking her head Ardy stood and walked over to the trashcan. Dumping the shards, she went back for a second round of sweeping. The thought of little feet being nicked by glass made her cringe.