by Quinn Ryder
“You know what I want. I want my Fe. Give her to me, and nobody has to die today. I’ll even throw in something you’ve been itching to get for a while.”
Scythe looked at me warily. “You got nothing I want.”
“Of course, I do. That’s why you send your SGT at Arms over to my club to get supplies every week. I’ll hand over the whole operation to you, I just want Fe.”
All heads swiveled over to Guerrilla, who held up his hands. “I have no clue what that motherfucker is talking about. Honest.”
I wanted to turn my gun on him and call him out for his lies, but the second I turned my back, something was going to go down, I felt it in my bones. So, I took a few steps back, keeping Guerrilla in my line of vision.
“One girl for my whole drug operation. Sounds like a pretty sweet deal to me, Scythe. Hand over the girl and it’s all yours.”
Scythe shook his head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. We don’t traffic drugs in the Armada. His eyes shot over to Guerrilla, who was starting to look extremely nervous.
“Two Kilos every month. Sixty percent kicked back to me after it’s sold. You’re SAA is good at getting shit done. I’m sure your club has benefited from his numerous talents.”
“He’s lying,” Guerrilla quickly shouted. “That asshole is trying to turn us against each other.”
“I just want the girl, Scythe. Hand over your sister and we’ll walk away, nobody has to get hurt. No blood shed has to happen, tonight. Just hand over the girl and you get my drugs.”
“Fuck you, Diego. My sister isn’t for sale. There’s nothing you have that I want. Go fuck yourself.”
“Suit yourself. Blood shed it is.” A shot rang out, and Obi went flying backward, landing on the ground with a thud. The second the gun went off, the rest of us started shooting. The cheap fence separating us, dotted with our bullets, as everyone scrambled to get cover. Ice had a machine gun in his hand and started unloading into the Saints below before jumping down to protect Scythe.
Ice used to be in the Marines alongside Switchblade, so both move through the yard tactfully, as if they were in the middle of Afghanistan fighting a war. Ice motioned with his hands, and Switchblade flanked my side.
“Shoot to kill, Prospect,” he yelled, as he unloaded a cartridge through the fence. The fence was forced open from the other side and at least seven Saints members rampaged through, shooting as they went. I jumped behind a car, as a guy drew down on me and started firing, bullets barely missing my body.
Scythe rolled to my side, out of breath, his arm bleeding.
“You’ve been hit!” I yelled.
“Flesh wound, keep shooting these motherfuckers.”
The same Saint’s member who shot at me before appeared out of nowhere, and out of reflex, I shot first, hitting him dead in the forehead.
“Nice shot, you’ve been practicing. You used to shoot like shit,” Scythe complimented.
“Now’s not the time for insults, brother. We gotta take these assholes out before they hit the compound.”
Scythe nodded and peeked over the car. Someone shot at him, the bullets whipped over his head and penetrated the cold metal of the shop building behind us.
I dropped to my back and slid across the ground, popping out behind the back tire of the old Montego we were hiding behind. Switchblade was walking backward shooting in the direction of the fence. He briefly turned and began to run toward a pile of oil drums near the compound doors. A few Saints zipped past me, chasing after Switchblade, guns drawn ready to shoot. I open fired, hitting one in the leg, and the other in the side. Both fell to the ground in tandem. Ice came up behind them and shot each one in the head, before giving me a swift nod and moving on. Switchblade looked over at me in shock, but if he was thankful that I just saved his ass he didn’t show it.
Jagger and Rex ran past me next; both had their guns hanging by their sides, Rex looked panicked, but Jagger looked like a crazed maniac.
“You’ll never take me alive, Shitheads!” Jagger screamed, laughing manically as he began shooting around the yard. That stupid shit is going to get himself killed.
Riptide appeared out of nowhere, taking refuge next to Scythe. I didn’t want to leave him alone and wounded, so the second Riptide showed up I was on the move.
“Stay here, Scythe, I’m going to go look for Diego. Riptide, protect our Prez, he’s wounded.”
“Be careful, Specter.”
I gave him a quick nod and emerged from my hiding place. There were gun shots going off in all different directions, but I kept to the shadows, moving silently across the yard until I was closer to where the Saints were hiding. Nobody could see me as I crept in closer.
“We need to retreat, Diego,” said a taller man, the same one I witnessed giving Guerrilla the drugs at Diego’s Club.
“I’m not leaving until I get my Fe.”
“You’re going to get us all killed, Diego. That fucking whore is not worth it. Just let her go.”
“She’s mine, Marco. I’m not leaving until I’m dragging that bitch’s body out of that compound by her hair.”
I drew my gun, aiming it for Diego’s skull. Nobody threatens Faith and gets away with it. My finger tapped the trigger, I wanted to make sure I had the best shot before firing. My finger curled, and I took a deep breath. I already shot three men today, what’s one more?
BANG!
Diego’s body swayed then fell backward, gun spinning out of his hand as his body hit the ground lifelessly.
I blinked. Did I shoot him? No. I hadn’t even pulled the trigger. If I didn’t shoot him then who did?
Marco, Diego’s second in command, made a hellacious grotesque sound as he gathered his spit and spat, his saliva smacking Diego in the face before it crawled down his cheek. “I told you to let it go and you didn’t listen, Puta. Now ya dead.”
Marco looked around to make sure no one had witnessed what he just did and took off running. “Retreat, those motherfuckers killed Diego!”
I stared at Diego’s lifeless body on the ground, shocked that his own man would turn on him like that. I didn’t know what to do, I should’ve shot at Marco as he ran away, but I didn’t. I just stared at Diego’s dead body until I heard more people rushing past me.
The few remaining Saints followed their new leader out of the compound, and before we had a chance to react, they were on their bikes and gone. Including Diego, four of their men died tonight.
“Everyone okay?” Scythe yelled, jumping up from behind the car, holding his shoulder. Riptide trailed behind him.
I popped out of my hiding spot and ran to his side.
“You took out Diego, good job!” he congratulated me.
“I didn’t do it, Scythe. His own man shot him dead. They’re setting us up. They’re starting a war.”
“Well, if it’s a war they’re after, then it’s a war they’re going to get.”
Ice walked up carrying an injured Obi alongside him. Rex walked hesitantly toward us from a different direction, looking absolutely petrified.
Jagger’s eyes were wild and excited as he suddenly appeared behind Rex. “That was so fucking cool!” he shouted. “Let’s do it again.”
Cipher and Switchblade appeared next, although Switchblade was slightly limping. It looked like they might’ve grazed his leg before I had a chance to take them down.
“You okay, Man?” I asked, when he finally got up to us.
“I’ll live.”
“Where’s Guerrilla?” Scythe questioned, after counting heads.
Everyone looked at each other.
“I haven’t seen him since the firefight started,” Switchblade answered.
“Fuck,” I yelled, causing everyone’s eyes to swivel to me.
“What’s wrong?” Scythe asked.
“I hope nothing,” I answered, grabbing my gun and jogging back to the compound. I threw open the door, and moved quickly down the hall, my gun drawn, ready to shoot if anyone jumped out of the shadows. I kicked open
Scythe’s door, praying to god that my suspicions were wrong.
The room was empty.
I dropped to my knees, panic and regret flooding my chest. I can’t believe I left her alone and trusted Daisy with her life.
Scythe came skidding to a stop in his doorway. “What’s wrong?”
I took a deep breath and slowly rose, my gun was in my hand, and I gripped it tightly, fighting the urge to run out of the room shooting.
I turned and faced him. “She’s gone, Scythe. He took her and it’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have left her. I should have told you what he was up to.”
“Who took her?” Scythe asked, eyes rounded with worry.
“Guerrilla.”
“How do you know? Could one of the Saints have taken her?”
I shook my head. Regret swarming me like angry wasps. “It was him, Scythe. Guerrilla took Faith. I know it.”
“But how do you know that for sure?”
I stared at my brother—my best friend and held back all the emotions clogging my chest. I had to remain calm if I wanted to save Faith, I couldn’t be an emotional mess right now—not when she needed me.
“Because Guerrilla was the man that tried to kill me, Scythe, and with everything else I know about him, he won’t hesitate to kill Faith the second she becomes useless to him.”
Scythe’s mouth dropped. “He wouldn’t do that. Guerrilla is part of the Armada, he’s a loyal member.”
I shook my head, fighting the guilty tears stinging my eyes. “I wish I could agree with you Scythe, but bullet wounds don’t lie, and that motherfucker shot me in the back and left me for dead. He’s an evil, evil man, and if we don’t find him tonight, Faith won’t live to see tomorrow.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Faith
“Oof, my head feels fuzzy,” I mumbled, my vision blurred, body cold and freezing. I had no idea where I was. The last thing I remember was being in the bathtub getting washed off, and then everything went black.
“I’m sorry,” someone whispered to my left.
I tried to focus my vision, turning my head in the direction of the voice. The room was dark, except for a single lamp that was on the ground facing me. The floor was a grey cement that was covered in an inch of dust and dirt. I couldn’t see past the blinding white light to make out any other features in the room, but there was someone sitting on the ground not too far from me. She looked up at me and her tear-filled gaze met mine.
Daisy.
She was barely illuminated by the light, sitting on the edge of it where it met the darkness, almost as if she was bathing in both contrasts.
“Daisy, what’s going on?”
My neck was killing me. I tried to reach up to rub it, but realized I was tied to a chair. I looked down and large ropes were coiled around my bare arms and up my legs, weaving behind me and around my torso. At least I had clothes on, even if it was a long t-shirt and underwear.
Her bloodshot eyes moved toward me, but she looked away before she spoke. “He said if I got you out of the clubhouse that he’d give me a fix. He’s been denying me it lately. He promised, but he didn’t give it to me. He lied.”
“Who? What are you talking about?”
“My little dragon chaser will do anything for a fix. Even betray the people who trust her,” a menacing voice said from the shadows.
“Who’s there? Show yourself!” I yelled.
A foot stepped out of the shadows, then a leg appeared, followed by the whole body of Guerrilla. “Hey, Faithy.”
“Guerrilla? What the hell? Where am I? Why am I tied to a fucking chair? What’s going on? Let me go!”
Guerrilla smirked. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, Faithy. Too many people want you right now, and you’re my only bargaining chip to get out of this alive. I’m offering the Princess of the Armada to the highest bidder. I got a lot of friends that are out looking for you, Faithy, and once they find out that I have you, I’m pretty sure they’ll pay me exactly what I want to get you.”
“You can’t take me back to Diego, Guerrilla; he’ll kill me!”
Guerrilla laughed manically. “Diego’s dead, bitch. Fucking killed right in front of your new boy toy. He just stood there and watched, taking credit for something he didn’t even do. I underestimated him. I thought I had shit handled, but I never thought that bastard would rise up from the grave and show back up here. I should’ve made sure I finished the job seven years ago.”
My eyes widened. “Are you talking about Midas?” Realization pounded me like a jackhammer chewing through cement. This whole time I thought Diego was the one who murdered Midas, but his real killer was right under my nose, pretending to be a part of my family. Only Midas was never murdered, he survived. And for some reason neither of those realizations made me feel any better. I spent the last five years of my life pretending to be someone I’m not, fishing for information that was never there. I played with the devil and the devil won. Now I’m going to pay for all the mistakes I’ve made. There was no way I was making it out of this alive.
“Who else would I be talking about?” He crouched down beside me. “I should probably thank you, Faithy. If it wasn’t for you, I would’ve never had the upper hand on him. It was so fucking easy. I lured him there by telling him that you were in trouble. I knew it would get him to show up, and just like I thought, that asshole rolled up on his bike like he was riding in on some white horse, ready to swoop in and save you. It was all a setup. That motherfucker was in my way. I had to take him out before he blew up everything I was working on. I thought once I took out Midas that everything else would fall into place, but it didn’t. Your dad lost his fucking mind and your brother got voted in as president. I thought they’d at least vote me in as VP, but that shit didn’t happen either. I guess it all worked out perfectly in the end, though. My son got that VP patch and has been a seamless pawn for me to move around and manipulate without anybody else noticing.”
I gasped. “Switchblade’s your son?”
“It amazes me that nobody sees the family resemblance—not even Switchblade himself. That’s right. I’m that asshole’s daddy. I knocked up his whore of a mother almost thirty years ago and told her to keep her bitch-ass mouth shut about it. She was so addicted to meth that it didn’t take much to keep her quiet. She’s just like my dragon chaser over there; her addictions make her do what I want. I can bend each of them to my will, and they obey like the little drug hungry bitches they are. Hell, the only reason Switchblade’s mom ended up pregnant in the first place is because that slut exchanged ass for drugs, and I got sloppy.” Guerrilla smiled proudly. “I shoulda wrapped my dick before sticking it up in her, but I have to admit, Switchblade’s been a welcomed surprise. He’s as bad as I am, and that makes this papa proud. I molded that asshole from the ground up. Bred him to hate, just like his dear ol’ dad. He just didn’t fucking know that’s what I was doing. I’m a fucking master at what I do, but nobody appreciates me. All the shit I’ve done for this club and my brothers, it’s the only thing that keeps the club going. Shit would've fallen apart if it wasn’t for me.”
“You’re wrong. My brother is a good president, he takes after my dad. Both are great leaders, you’re just a piece of shit bottom feeder that sucks people dry and murders the innocent.”
“Midas was not fucking innocent. He had things I wanted. He had Dutch and your brother’s love. He had you and I knew that my son wanted you. He had everything. He was the golden boy everyone looked up to, and I was tired of standing in his ginormous shadow. That fat bastard didn’t deserve to be moved up before me, and I fucking made sure he didn’t. What I didn’t expect was for that motherfucker to dig himself out of the grave I dropped him in and show the fuck back up seven years later as a completely different person. He thinks I don’t know who the fuck he is, but when that bastard shook my hand and slid in that sly threat, I knew. I could see the hostility in his eyes. It was almost laughable. That fucker thinks he can take on a Guerrilla, and he’s dea
d wrong. Next time I see Midas, I’m going to finish what I started seven years ago and bury his body so it’ll never rise out of the ground again.”
“How did you figure it out?”
“How did you not? It was kinda comical to see you falling all over him without even realizing how deceitful he was being. Seven years he left you alone, Faith. Seven years he made you think he was dead, and now he just shows up out of nowhere and thinks he can make things right again? Fuck him. That bastard should’ve stayed dead.”
As much as it hurt to hear Guerrilla say these things, it was all true. Why did Midas leave me? Why didn’t he come back for me? Why all the lies and deceit? Did he even love me in the first place? Was it all a lie?
Guerrilla’s smile slithered across his face like a venomous asp stalking its prey. “That’s right, Faith. Think long and hard about it. The man you loved abandoned you, then decides out of nowhere, to show back up in your life pretending to be someone else. He lied to you. He used you. He fucking betrayed you.”
I pulled at the binds on my arms and tried to lunge at Guerrilla. “Fuck you, Guerrilla. Midas loves me! He must’ve had his reasons for staying away. Don’t you dare talk about him like he’s some criminal scum, that’s your job!”
Guerrilla sneered. “And that’s a job I take pride in, Sweetheart.”
Someone knocked on a door. The sound came from my left. Guerrilla’s sneer spread even wider. “Our time is up, my dear. Your buyers are here. Daisy, open the fucking door for our guests.”
Daisy reluctantly rose to her feet and walked across the dark room. She opened the door and moved aside so two people could walk in.
“You did good today, Brother.” A voice called out. “Can’t believe Mom called you the family fuck up. That shit went down perfectly.”
“I told you it would, Little Brother.”
“It would’ve gone so much better if this little tease hadn’t gotten into Diego’s head. She fucked everything up.” The figure stood just outside the light. I could feel him staring at me, and I knew his voice, too, but I couldn’t place it.