Page 53 of Deranged (American Street Kings 3)

“Just like they did on ours,” Dutch said as he lit a cigarette, animosity dripping from his every word.

I leaned back. “If we’re right, and the Pythons are the new cocaine suppliers on these streets, we can use that to our advantage.”

Manic lifted a brow. “How?”

“There’s no way the Sixes will let the Pythons slide on in and make a buck dealing in their trade. If we can prove it’s the Pythons, the Sixes will be bringing war to their doorstep. And the enemy of my enemy—”

“Is my friend,” Granite continued. “We’ll get our business with the Sixes back, and we’ll have an ally against the Pythons.”

I smiled, and I could see Granite was feeling all fucking giddy inside with the potential our new situation presented.

“I got word that there’s a shipment coming in tonight,” Dutch said, putting out his cigarette and fisting his hands together on the table. “If it’s true, my guess is the Pythons will try to distract the Sixes while all this goes down. Make sure they don’t get word of it.”

“Makes sense,” I said, wheels turning inside my head. “We need to find proof, then present it to the Sixes. It’s the only way we’ll convince Crow.”

“Hold up,” Ink interrupted. “Look how the last supposed meeting with the Sixes went down. Who’s to say the Sixes aren’t in on this with the Pythons?”

This time Granite intervened. “I don’t know how Slither found out about our meeting with the Sixes the other day. My guess is he has a man on the inside, keeping tabs on them. But I know Crow. He’s been the president of the Sixes for as long as I’ve been sitting in that chair.” He indicated my way. “He might be a filthy son of a bitch who would steal candy from a baby, but he won’t compromise his product. Snow is his trade, and it took them years to build their little narcotic empire. He won’t jeopardize that by selling shit that’s killing people left, right, and center.”

“Granite’s right,” I agreed. “Crow’s an immoral fucker, but he’s no snake. And the only reason he’s buying arms from the Pythons is because we stopped dealing with them, making good on Granite’s promise to Slither. If we can prove Slither is busy fucking Crow in the ass, we get the upper hand here.”

“Fuck, yes,” Manic blurted. “About fucking time things got back to normal around here—normal being the Kings in charge of this fucking town.”

“And Slither?” Ink asked, his face concrete. “Let’s discuss the part where he dies.”

“Listen, man,” I turned to him, “I swear to God he’ll pay for what he’s done.”

“Funny, that’s all I hear everyone say around here.”

I didn’t like the look on his face, like he had somehow become detached, void of everything except hate. Revenge. Justice.

“If we can get the Sixes on our side, I can guarantee it will end with Slither taking his last breath. Just…” I breathed out, “just be patient a little while longer.”

Ink slammed both his fists onto the table, ashtrays and beer bottles clattering. “I told you, I’m running out of patience. Even though Neon is up and walking again, last night proved she will not be able to move on unless she knows he’s dead.”

“And you, Ink?” I asked, pinning him with my gaze. “Will you be able to move on after he’s dead? Will death be enough to settle that guilt you’re feeling?”

“Guilt?” He glared at me. “What guilt?”

“The guilt of not being able to protect her. Even now, with her being safe here with us, you can’t protect her from the memories, from the nightmares. And it’s fucking killing you, isn’t it?”

His jaw clenched, nostrils flaring while his eyes killed me slowly with a toxic stare.

I leaned closer, practically bathing myself in the hate that radiated off him. “I swear to God that Slither will pay with his blood, but I can guarantee it won’t take away your guilt.” I got up from my seat, not taking my eyes off him. “Nothing will take away the guilt.”

He didn’t say anything. But his eyes spoke volumes. He hated me, hated that he knew I spoke the truth. It hurt hearing those words, and he tried to fight the pain of the truth by detesting me—even if only for a few seconds. So, I allowed it. I allowed him to hate me because it gave him a temporary reprieve from what was really eating away at his soul.

Motherfucking guilt.

“Manic,” I called as I walked to the door. “You’re with me tonight, tailing the Pythons.. Granite, you and Dutch find out where this shipment is coming in and get us some motherfucking pictures.”

Ink shot up. “What about me?”

I chewed the inside of my mouth, closing my eyes, hating what I was about to do to him. But I had no choice. First and foremost, my responsibility lay with the safety of my crew—even if they didn’t see it that way. “You stay here. Neon needs you here.”

“That’s bullshit!” he called after me as I exited the room. “This is fucking bullshit!”

The animosity echoed in his curses. And it stung like a motherfucking bitch, the fact that I had to do this to him. But I cared too much not to.

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