SIX (26 page)

Familiarity emerges as I drive through the city that altered the course of my life. It’s been a long time since I’ve been to these parts and the odds are well and truly against me.

I’ve come to where they’re strongest, but if I go out, I’m taking most of these fuckers with me and Hammer is at the top of my list.

He’s grown in numbers and territory.

With the changing world, gang crime has become more sophisticated in some ways, but in others, they are still just thugs using brute strength to scare and intimidate. I have that in buckets.

After Haley’s attack, I went on a rampage.

All my old barriers came down and I went after them alone.

Going to jail to do hard time gave me an out of the Eternal Kings and I had no plans of ever going back to them, but I knew they would have heard about me being out.

I didn’t even know if any of the old members were still alive or in the life, but driving through the old neighborhood is like being transported back in time.

Eternal Kings graffiti is still tagged everywhere and clusters of them litter shop corners.

Then I see him, Sticks, wearing the same baggy pants and oversized tees.

He never did want to grow up.

Following him right back to his same apartment as sixteen years ago, I rap my knuckles on his door and stand to the side.

When he opens the door with a gun in his hand, I reach in, grab it from him, shove him backwards into his apartment, and kick his door shut.

“Taylor?” His mouth turns up into a genuine smile.

“You came home.” He shakes his head and reaches his hand forward, but I don’t take it. “You’re not home?” His brows crash together.

“No, I’m here for information.”

“Do I look like an informant?” His cocky tone is warranted.

I barged in here, stole his weapon, and I’m not being very forthcoming.

“Vipers,” I say. “Hammer still running that show?”

He tuts and throws himself backwards onto a couch.

“Still looking for payback, huh? Why don’t you come home and let us declare war? We can take out those fuckers together.”

“Can you tell me or not?”

“Hammer’s a punk ass. You never see him alone or on the streets. He knows he’s due a bullet and he’s a fucking bullshitter.

He’s been inflating membership numbers to make their gang seem more powerful, but we’re not stupid.” He grins smugly.

“Rumor has it he’s always at a bar called Ivory Nest.”

I drop his gun to the table in front of him and move to exit, stopping at the door when he calls my name.

“Taylor, things won’t go the same way if you ever barge into my place like this again. You’re out. You’re not a King anymore.”

Relief echoes through me at that statement.

I don’t think I ever was a King and rejoining that life is the farthest thing from what I want.

Misty’s what I want.

Slamming the door behind me as I leave, I almost feel sorry for him being stuck in this life.

Almost.

The stupid thing about Viper gang members is you can pick them out of any crowd.

Most members on the street still wore an orange stripe on their clothing so people could identify them and most of the young ones used hand signals to communicate with each other.

The younger members weren’t who I was here for, but if they had to go too, so be it.

There is an age divide in the Vipers. In order to leave here without blowback, I’ll need to take out the senior and junior groups.

The younger members won’t necessarily be led by a senior member.

If there was someone amongst them with street status, they would have the respect of the younger group.

Hammer only had hierarchy because he spent time in prison and killed rival members.

I learned all this from Jordon.

He liked to talk after fucking. And I know from Haley he was the leader in her rape and the fucker who sent Max to spy on me. Jordan will also confirm that so I can kill Max without worrying over being wrong about him.

The rage is still present in my blood knowing one of them got that close to me, to Haley…to Misty.

I will never recover from her death, but killing him will give me some atonement.

Opening the truck door and placing the bag in the foot well, I bring the engine to life to make my way to the Ivory Nest.

The good thing about prison is you meet an array of people who can be worth knowing on the outside. Rainbow, a guy inside for arm’s trafficking, is a brain box and a mastermind for making illegal money by trafficking everything you can think of.

Although he’s built with the mind, he lacks strength and self-preservation and often got himself into shit with other inmates.

I helped him out of an altercation when inside and he insisted he owed me and would repay his debt.

He gave me an address and told me to look him up when I got out.

I still had six years left on my sentence when he was released.

I hadn’t expected the address to be real, but arming myself in case Kings or Vipers came looking for me was imperative, so I went there after I got out and low and behold, the place was legit and Rainbow, with dreadlocks in every color, greeted me with open arms and armed me for war.

I’d kinda hoped I would never have to use any of it, so I left it in a safe under the floor of the bar office.

Slowing the truck to a stop across the street, I stare over at Ivory Nest and just like I predicted, member after member is filing inside.

Earlier today, I popped a member in a drive by to ruffle feathers and get them to call a meeting.

Kings would get the blame for the killing, but it didn’t matter.

No one was coming out of the bar alive.

Dressed in a hoodie covering all my tats so I don’t give away my identity too soon and get clipped crossing the street, I tighten my grip on the bag strap.

Shifting it over my shoulder to rest at my side, I grab a couple grenades out of it and slip them into the pockets of my hoodie.

Taking out my pistols, I move toward the entrance of the club.

A couple big bastards are standing at the doors, nodding people in.

They eye me as I approach, one of them resting his hand on the gun tucked in the waistband of his jeans.

Should have taken it out.
Quick as a flash of lightening, I drag my blade across the first guy’s throat, then jab the same blade into the other—fast firing prods with the blade just under the armpit to puncture his lungs.

Pulling the pins on two grenades, I drop them down the stairs leading to the bar where all those fuckers are gathered like cattle.

Try slithering out of that, motherfuckers.

Running to take cover, my blood pumps and hums in my veins at the sound of the destruction they cause.

Shouting and screams of pain ring out into the night air and it’s like fucking music to my ears hearing those bastards suffer.

Making my way inside, I leave one who is begging me to help him.

He doesn’t realize the other half of his body is on the other side of the room yet. Another is a little better off, so I put a bullet between his eyes just in case he pulls a weapon from somewhere.

Carnage lays everywhere, blood and insides litter the walls and floor, and the whining of death is like a balm to my soul.

Pushing through to the bathroom, I fire a couple rounds into a fat fucker hiding under the sink.

A clicking sound draws my eyes to a door with “Office”
written on a plaque adorning it.

As it opens, I reach for the Viper emerging.

Holding my gun under his chin, I fire a round and pull my hand back as his blood sprays over my face like opening a bottle of beer that’s been shaken.

His body drops and I eye Hammer through the crimson dripping from my eyelashes.

“You didn’t think I would come for you?” I question.

His eyes are wide in surprise, like he honestly thought I’d let him get away with sending someone for me.

“I didn’t think you’d get this far.” He tries to relax his features, but his shoulders remain tense. He fears what’s coming.

I’ve learned to smell it on my prey.

He pours brown liquid into a glass from a decanter and holds it up to me. “Cheers.”

“I’m going to use that glass to kill you,” I snarl and his eye twitches in response.

“I don’t know why you give so much of a shit about a piece of pussy.”

He gestures to the dead body next to my feet.

“Is she really worth all this?”

“She’s worth killing everyone on this planet. I’m going to enjoy killing you the most.”

“Why? I thought you were a closet fag who went around raping straight men?”

My eyes narrow in on his. “The fuck did you say?”

“That’s what started all this, right?” His arms splay wide, spilling some liquor to the ground.

“I’m not a fucking rapist. That’s your title.”

“Well, Jordon called it seducing, but you can’t seduce a straight man into being gay, so it’s rape.”

“Jordon is gay and you’re a narrow-minded fucking cunt who can’t get your maggot-sized brain around that fact.”

“He’s married with kids. He’s not gay and you know this life, you were a part of it, so don’t go acting like this is tolerated in your camp.

Did they even find out about you?” He laughs, shaking his head.

He’s pretty chipper for someone who’s about to die in as much pain as I can inflict without ending his life too quick.

“That life ended for me when you took your hate out on a woman—a woman I fucking loved.

I went away, became someone new, but you couldn’t leave well enough alone.”

“I should have had Lewis kill you.”

My heart thuds in my chest as my brain scrambles to make sense of what he just said.

My feet stumble slightly, his words knocking me off kilter.

“Lewis…as in Lucky?” I breathe.

He grins at my shock.

“He said you gave him a new name, but the thing is, he already has one and was earning his place amongst us. You were his way in.”

He pours himself another drink while my heart and brain flop around inside my skeleton, trying to find traction to ground myself.

“Did he have to suck your dick and shit? He said no way, but it wouldn’t surprise me. He was a bitch in prison,” he taunts.

Feeling betrayed and homicidal, I take a menacing step toward him.

He goes for a gun on the desk in front of him, so I fire my weapon, putting a hole straight through the back of his hand, and savor his scream.

I knew he’d be a fucking pussy when it came to pain.

He’s trying to back away from my impending form.

“I have money,” he bellows, holding his bleeding hand to his chest.

“That’s pathetic. I’m almost sorry your fucking minions are dead and aren’t around to see you squirm and plead for your life.” I reach out and grab him by the lapels of his shirt.

“Fuck you.” He spits in my face and I smile down at him through the dried blood of all his men I’ve slaughtered.

“No thanks. You’re not my type.” I lower my gun to his junk and fire a round.

His body jolts as his eyes almost pop from his skull.

He coughs and splutters, fighting to gain the breath to scream.