Yeah, I was a lucky bastard.
My phone rang inside my jacket, pulling me away from my thoughts as I took the call.
“Talk to me,” I answered.
“Get your ass to the range,” Jack ordered.
“For what?”
“Wu made his move,” he growled before disconnecting the call. I put two fingers into my mouth and whistled as I rose from my chair. I grabbed my gun from the table, checked if it was loaded before tucking it into my jacket pocket.
“Yo, let’s go!” I hollered.
Wolf and Pipe turned to me as Bones came bounding down the stairs. Nobody asked questions, they knew…we were waiting for this moment and it was finally here. They strapped their vests on, loaded their guns and straddled their bikes.
Jack and Riggs had gone to some shindig over at Bianci’s house and arrived before us. I wasn’t expecting to see the place swarming with blue and whites and took that as a sign things were worse than we expected. If Pops placed a call to 9-1-1 instead of the cops we had on payroll someone was hurt. Pops was Cain’s old man and allowed us to keep the gun range in his name for legal purposes. The man was never patched, nor did he want to be, and a part of him blamed the reaper on our backs for taking his son’s life.
I assessed the damage as I dismounted, noting the front of the building was riddled with bullets.
“Jesus Christ,” Pipe hissed behind me. “How’s this place still standing?”
I glanced over my shoulder at him then turned around and scoped the property for Jack and Riggs. They were standing in front of the cops and Jack was going head to head with the man I despised most in this world, more than Boots, more than Wu…he was mouthing off to Craig Brantley. The biggest dick to make his way into the N.Y.P.D.
“Shit,” I growled, as we killed the engines of our bikes and assessed the damage at Pop’s shooting range. I stared at the front of the building, riddled with bullets, then took casual strides toward the dozens of cops swarming the joint.
“Easy,” Wolf warned, placing a hand on my shoulder trying to reign me in. “Keep your head, Black.”
“He’s right. We got a lot of eyes on us right now,” Pipe added.
I gave them both a quick nod before we started for Jack and Riggs. I kept my eyes on Brantley watching the motherfucker grin and gloat before I came up behind Jack and he lifted his head.
“Well, look who it is,” he taunted, stepping around Jack and closer to me. Jack glanced over his shoulder at me, wedging himself between me and the douche bag who held just as much blame as I did that Christine was dead.
“Relax Bulldog, no need to get possessive over a junkie,” Brantley mocked, flexing his jaw. “Scum like that’s not worth the effort,” he added.
“You would know right, Craig?” I clipped, as Jack placed his hand on my chest, holding him back. “I’m good,” I told Jack, shoving his hand off my chest as I glared at Brantley.
I might not deserve to be here but neither did this motherfucker.
The both of us had Christine’s blood on our hands and this son of a bitch wanted to point fingers.
“Instead of taunting my brothers why don’t you assholes do your job and find out who shot up Pop’s business,” Jack suggested.
“We intend to,” Craig promised. “Who’d you piss off this time, Bulldog?”
“Don’t bust my balls. Do your job or get the fuck out of here, put all those hard earned tax dollars to use," Jack hissed, turning around to face the rest of us and nodded toward Pops.
“You people probably never paid taxes a day in your life,” he sneered.
I rolled my eyes, deciding this jerk off didn’t deserve anymore of my time and followed Jack toward Pops.
“Hey, Blackie, I’d watch my back if I were you. It’d be a shame if you suffered the same fate as Christine,” he crooned.
I froze in my tracks.
He didn’t get to say her name.
He didn’t get to use her death against me.
“Fuck,” I heard Jack hiss as I spun around and charged for the douche bag who wouldn’t let my wife rest in peace.
“Keep her name off your fucking tongue or so help me God I’ll slice that thing right out of your fucking mouth,” I roared.
Jack grabbed the back of my jacket and pulled me back before my hands closed around Brantley’s throat.
“Sounds like you just threatened a police officer,” he tormented.
I blew out a ragged breath, shrugged Jack off me and took a dangerous step closer to Brantley, piercing him with a deadly glare.
“You got a hard on for me, motherfucker?” I whispered, extending my arms outward and crossing one wrist over the other. “Go on, lock me up,” I coaxed.
His eyes dipped to my wrists before turning his head side to side and glancing at the brothers in blue.
“Pussy,” I hissed.
Just as I thought.
Man wanted to play the good cop in front of his precinct but he was as dirty as the sole of my boots.
“You okay?” Jack questioned.