Page 64 of Destroyed (American Street Kings 4)

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Ink

It had been forty-six hours,and we only had two hours left until Crow came knocking on our fucking door.

Manic had been gone most of the time, not telling anyone what kind of contact he’d had with Crow—if any. If you asked me, Manic had been too damn quiet, and it was making me edgy. Something was up, and Manic wasn’t talking.

Onyx and Granite were already in their seats when I walked in. “Where’s Manic?”

Granite shrugged. “Fuck me if I know.” He leaned back. “Still can’t believe Manic is related to Crow.”

“Yeah. Talk about a motherfucking conflict of interest.” Onyx tapped a finger on the armrest of his chair. “Amazing how some shit in life can go full circle.”

I frowned. “What in the name of ever-loving fuck did you just try to say?”

Onyx snickered. “Nothin’ man. Nothing.”

I sat down and lit a cigarette. Judging by the cloud of smoke hanging like a goddamn cloak over the room, I’d say Onyx and Granite had been here for a while now, smoking up a storm.

Dutch’s empty seat across from me was like a goddamn crucifix—a reminder of what he had done by saving Granite’s life. It was also a reminder of what we had lost, the kind of loss you never got over. You merely learned to live with it.

I shifted and took a drag from my cigarette. “Listen, just so you know, I don’t plan on shit hitting the fan with Crow. I’m not going to let this club carry the shit I started. If the man wants me, he can have me.”

“Over my dead body.” Onyx leaned back casually in his seat. “That ain’t happening.”

I shrugged. “We have two hours left before he walks in here, and when he does, he’s going to roll those freaky fucking dice of his. I don’t think we have much of a choice.”

“Yeah, we do.”

All three of us turned toward Manic, who closed the door behind him. When I saw him holding his cut in his hands instead of wearing it, I knew he was about to do something really fucking stupid.

Manic rounded the table but didn’t take his seat, still clutching his cut in his hands.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “What the fuck you doing, man?”

He gave me a knowing look, reminding me of the private conversation we had a few days back about him and Crow having family ties. Warning prickled my skull, and my gut had me feeling something totally shitty was about to happen.

I clenched my jaw. “No. If you’re about to do what I think you are, don’t.”

“It’s the only way, man.”

“No, it’s not. I’m giving myself over to Crow, and that’s it.”

Manic shook his head. “This is not about you, brother.”

“Then what the fuck is this about?”

Onyx slammed a palm on the wooden table. “What the fuck is happening right now?”

Manic and I kept our gazes pinned on one another, a thousand words spoken within a few seconds of silence.

Manic was first to look away, focusing his attention on Onyx. “I’m leaving.”

“You’re what?”

“I’m turning in my colors. I’m leaving the American Street Kings.” He tossed his cut on the table, the thwack of leather against wood sounding louder than it actually was in an atmosphere thick enough to cut through.

Onyx pulled a palm down his beard. “Say that again, because I’m not sure I heard you right.”

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