Page 61 of Wild Side
He slides his ass over to his buddy, and I wonder what to do next. If I shoot, the other people in the building might come rushing in here before I can free the guys from their restraints.
Although, as I take them in, I realize that I don’t think they’re going to try to rush me at any point. They are still moaning as they roll around on the floor. What a couple of fucking pussies.
Holding the gun in my right hand, I unsheathe my knife with my left, and although it’s awkward, I’m able to cut the rope that is tied around their chests, holding all three of them together like a goddamnLooney Tunescartoon.
The next thing I do is cut Bullet’s zip tie that is wrapped around his wrists. With him free, I can focus my gun andattention on the two assholes. Bullet slips the knife from my hand and finishes freeing Viking and Lightning.
“Who the fuck else is here aside from you, my buyer, and the prospects?” I demand.
The hang-around doesn’t say shit. He’s holding his fucked-up knee, with tears streaming down his face like a little bitch, those teary eyes narrowed on me as if he’s going to intimidate me for a single moment.
He doesn’t.
None of them do, and the only way they could attempt to overtake me was by knocking me out. I don’t know how they got the other guys, but I’m going to assume the prospects, who betrayed our club, had guns.
This shit is going to get sorted. And fucking fast. Once all three of the men are freed from their restraints, I flick my gaze between them. I wait for them to tell me what the fuck is going on, but they don’t expand on anything much, other than we need to get the fuck out of here and lock down the shop, which includes taking care of those prospects.
“We’ll be having church about this later,” Bullet grinds out. “But for now, let’s clean this fucking shit up.”
“And by clean up?” I ask.
My attention is focused on these crybaby fucks on the floor in front of me. Fucks who thought they could best us. Fucks who thought they could steal from us. Fucks who thought they were going to overpower us.
Fucks who are dead men breathing.
“End them all,” Bullet grinds out. “But save the prospects for later. That is going to happen at the clubhouse.”
I’m not sure if I should be smiling at the thought of that, but I do anyway. I lift my hand, aiming my gun at the hang-around. Tilting my head to the side, I stare at him for a moment. To hiscredit, he doesn’t beg or plead for me to spare him. Instead, he jerks his chin up slightly, awaiting his punishment.
What I want to do is torture him, but we don’t have time for that. The others, who are currently loading up our products, are no doubt going to come looking for these assholes soon enough.
“I’m not going to shoot him,” I state.
Slipping my gun back in my holster, I hold out my hand. Bullet slips my knife into my palm before I curl my fingers around the handle. Moving toward him, I sink down to my knees and slide my blade across his neck. There is no show, no flair. It’s much like it was with Halo. Warm blood covers my body. I don’t make a move to wipe it off, as sick as it probably is.
I simply kill him.
Then, turning toward the buyer, I straighten my knees and take a step backward. As much as I want to end them both, I know I should give the opportunity to someone else, considering these people fucked with us all.
Bullet doesn’t hesitate. He takes the knife from my grasp and moves forward, slamming it into the buyer’s chest. He opens his mouth to gasp, but nothing comes out. Turning my head, I look over to Bullet, my lips smirking.
“That was fast.”
“Let’s get this done. I need to get home to my woman,” Bullet grunts.
I can agree with that shit. I want to get home to mine, too. I almost text my brother to check on her, but I decide against it. I need to get this shit done and handled. I need my woman.
I never understood that before. Needing a woman. Sure, I needed sex. Needed good head. All that. But right now, I could wrap my arms around my woman without even being inside her, and I think I could be satisfied.
We slowly walk out of the office as we listen for any movement inside the building. I know where they probably are.No doubt they are posted up outside the back door, unloading shit. The four of us move toward that back entrance, and we see them.
Two prospects are loading shit up, and another man is standing beside them. I recognize him as the driver from the box truck. Clearly, there were more people involved in this than I could have imagined. It doesn’t mean that they’ll win, though.
I won’t let them.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I press my lips together and watch the pieces of shit load up our stuff into the box truck.
“Good job there, guys,” Bullet calls out.
