Colson (The Henchmen MC 20)

The bulkiness under Che's shirt suggested he'd doubled—or tripled—up on elastic bandages to keep his ribs from screaming. Under other circumstances, I think he would have been willing to sit this out. But when the president was going into battle with bruised ribs and a busted shoulder, you sucked it up and fell in line as well.

We weren't taking our bikes.

Reign had pitched a fit when Lo told them it was a bad idea. He thought that the rumble would put dread in the men's hearts, that it would send a message to anyone else who fucked with us.

But Lo was quick to remind him that the bikes also gave them all time to prepare and possibly ambush us, that it would draw the attention of the police who—while sometimes inept—were not entirely useless, and would figure something was going on.

Begrudgingly, we filed into various cars that Huck and his team had 'sourced' for just this occasion. We weren't going to chop them, but Lo's team was prepared to take them from us on the way back, clean them, and return them, if possible, or drop them in random locations to be discovered in a few days.

I was in a car with Huck, Che, and Adler who was practically bouncing in his seat, one of the brothers who came from the criminal life, thrived on action and dangerous situations, had no problem taking a life since he'd taken many before.

"Ya good?" he asked as we got closer to Third Street territory, all the cars breaking off onto separate streets, the plan to strike multiple locations at once, since Third Street wasn't known for all being in one spot at a time.

"Yeah."

"Use yer head. Don't hesitate to pull the trigger. Not complicated," he said, giving me a nod then watching out the window again, fingers thrumming on the barrel. "I got yer back," he added as we all climbed out, looking around. "If for no other reason than yer woman would have my arse if I don't."

Huck gave us all a head jerk, making us fall silent as we moved in behind him, moving down between two apartment buildings.

Our target was a basement room where some of the members could be found playing cards most nights of the week when most of the deals were done for the night.

Adrenaline surged through my veins, making my pulse pound, every inch of me hyper-aware of every small breeze, the music from some of the apartments, the smell of someone cooking chili.

My thoughts, though, were almost alarmingly still. I expected for them to be swirling, weighing all the ways this could go wrong, what would happen to Jelly if something happened to me. But all there was in my head in that moment was a grim sort of determination as we all flattened back against the wall for a moment as Adler made short work of picking the lock, holding the door open for Huck, but falling in between him and Che, leaving me at the back.

Our footsteps were all but silent on the stairs leading down into the basement.

In a storage room toward the back corner, there was music blaring, thumping loud enough to move up through the soles of my shoes and through my body as we all came to a stop outside the door, Huck looking over our faces, making sure we were all on the same page, then nodding his head at Adler whose hand was on the knob.

And just like that, Adler threw the door open, Huck Che, and Adler moved in, and I followed up at the rear.

They didn't even hear us, didn't see us.

Hell, the music was so loud that I didn't hear the quiet pop of the silenced guns as the men raised and shot, bodies jolting as the bullets met their targets, red bursting through the material, brain matter splattering the walls.

It was like a movie, watching five men meet their ends in a flurry of action.

"Colson!" Adler roared as he reached for his second gun.

There was something in his voice, deep, full of warning.

I turned just in time to see a flurry of motion in the doorway.

I didn't pause.

I didn't even think.

It was pure instinct as my arm rose, as my hand aimed, as my finger slipped to the trigger.

I watched in stunned numbness as three bullets landed in the chest cavity of a man whose gaze went pained, mouth forming a shocked O.

I didn't even realize Huck was moving until he stepped half between me and the man I'd shot, aiming, and putting a bullet between his eyes.

And just like that, it was over.

Again, there was no conversation as we all turned, fell into line, and made our way out the same way we'd come in, but our movements faster.

"What was that?" I hissed as we walked back toward the car.