Page 13 of Deranged (American Street Kings 3)

I pulled my mouth in a hard line, and Dutch smirked. “Besides thinking you won’t be able to fill Granite’s shoes, you’re afraid to grow up.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“It means the day you got the VP tag, you made an oath to this club to step in as leader when we needed you to. And right now, we need you to, Onyx. Granite needs you to. Do not think for one second this is easy for your brother, to step down. But he’s doing what needs to be done for everyone he cares about. Now you gotta do the same.”

I shook my head, pursing my lips. “This is not how it was supposed to be.”

“Nothing ever is. Nothing ever works out the way we planned. All I’m saying, Granite has Alyx now. The Kings have this war with the Pythons. Don’t make Granite choose between this club and the woman he loves, because he won’t choose us, I can promise you that.”

“I know.” I clutched my fists in front of my mouth. “I fucking know that.”

Dutch leaned forward, eyes boring into mine. “Then grow the fuck up and do the right thing.”

Alyx returned just as Granite placed a tray of bourbon shots on the table. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer and kissing her like they weren’t standing in a bar surrounded by a fuck-load of people.

I cleared my throat. “Ahem…put your dick back in your pants, please.”

“Why?” Granite looked over my shoulder toward the bar. “Manic seems to have his out.”

“Oh, my God,” I muttered. “I’m gonna kick all your asses.”

6

Onyx

The dayI accepted the VP tag, I didn’t think it would ever come to this. I had always been so sure I’d take my last breath long before my brother did. But I never could have predicted things would work out the way they did. For the first time, I was forced to think about how it would be to lead this crew. How it would be to sit in the president’s chair and hold the future of the Kings in my hands. It wasn’t a responsibility I ever thought would be mine.

I sat behind the wheel of the black cage. Whenever we had this kind of meeting, we made sure we pitched with four wheels. It was easier to get away if shit should hit the fan.

Ink was sitting in the passenger seat, with Granite, Dutch, and Manic in the back.

The sun had started to set on the horizon, but the pretty pinks and yellows did nothing to lessen the dark foreboding I felt in my bones.

“Something doesn’t feel right.” I tapped my finger against the wheel.

Ink stared out the window. “Yeah, I feel ya. But we have no choice. We need the business.”

“Yo, Granite,” I called to the back. “What time did they say they’d be here?”

“Seven.”

I glanced at the clock on the dash. Ten past seven. I searched the area, but there was no sign of them. “Something’s not right. They’re never late.”

My leg started to twitch, juddering up and down to the same rhythm my finger continued to tap on the wheel. The prickle of warning I felt a few seconds ago was making its way to the center of my stomach.

“Granite—”

“Let’s give them five more minutes.”

“In the last ten years, they have been punctual as fuck. I’m telling you, man, something ain’t right.”

“Five more minutes, Onyx.”

I mumbled under my breath, swiping my fingers across my beard. I became increasingly aware of the gun at my side and the blade in my boot. Ink was packing; I knew that for sure. He never left the compound without at least two guns and a knife.

Abruptly, Ink sat up straight. “You hear that?”

I tilted my head to the side, listening.

---