Page 21 of Jett

She nods. “Be careful.”

I grin. “I ain’t ever been careful, darlin’, and I ain’t about to start now.”

***

ICLIMB OFF MY BIKEand remove my helmet, tossing it over the handlebars as Trigger and Kick come running back up the abandoned road. They stop in front of us and Trigger grins like a fucking maniac. “The warehouse is packed—Russians, grunt workers, coke on one side, guns on the other.”

“What kind of guns?”

“AKs,” Kick says.

“How many?”

“A lot, Prez. A lot of fuckin’ guns. Assembly line runs the length of the warehouse.”

“Security?”

Trigger shrugs. “The usual goons, eight, maybe ten. Nothin’ we can’t fuckin’ handle.”

“No one but us comes out, you understand?” I look at each of my boys, all capable of some truly fucked up shit, but my gaze lingers on Tank and Trigger.

My brothers nod.

“You feeling good, Trigger?”

“I’m good.”

“How fuckin’ good, ’cause I need you to bring your inner fuckin’ psycho, brother.”

A slow, rictus grin spreads across his face, making him look every bit the psychopathic little shit I want in the shadows. “Oh, he’s here.”

“Good.” I glance at my other boys. “We take the guns, coke too if we can get it, but I don’t want anyone riddled with bullets for a little powder. Got it?”

“Yep,” Tank says.

The others nod.

I point to Killer. “You, stay close to the van. If it all turns to shit, I want a fast getaway.”

“You got it, Prez,” Killer says.

“Alright, let’s fuck up some Russians, boys.”

Everyone piles in the van. It’s a tight squeeze with how big Tank, Raphe, and the rest of my boys are, and someone’s AK-47 is digging into my arse, but we make it work.

Killer throws the van into gear, fanging it down the drive and through the chain-link gate. Tyres squeal against the concrete and the scent of burning rubber fills the van as he turns the vehicle and reverses it through the corrugated iron doors. We all lose our footing, but recover fast enough to throw open the van doors and start shooting motherfuckers left, right and centre. A stray bullet hits a bag of coke and white dust billows over the workers.

One by one we file out, take aim, and fire. Bodies fall. We spread wide. The acrid stench of gunpowder, chemicals, and blood fills the room. I take shelter behind a palette and aim at Ryzhanov. His bodyguard throws himself in front of his boss and the bastard’s other muscle ushers him out of the building.Fuck!

Trigger—the fucking psycho—steps out from behind his cover and just fires at everything beyond us that moves. He’s already been hit. Blood pours out of the wound in his bicep, but he doesn’t even fucking notice.

“Trigger!” I glance at Tank to make sure he’s still breathing and seeing this. He meets my gaze for a split second and steps around the shelving unit he’s using to take cover. The workers who haven’t run for their lives are firing back, and thank fuck their aim is shit. I raise my gun and shoot two more, riddling their bodies with bullets. “Trigger! Get your fuckin’ arse back here!”

He ignores me. Tank dives forward and yanks Trigger off a Russian whose face is being rearranged by the kid’s fist. As if nothing happened, Trigger lunges to his feet, shooting a worker woman dusted in coke who was merely heading for the nearest exit.Jesus Christ. If the Russians don’t get there first, I may well put a fucking bullet in this little shit myself.

The screech of tyres is barely audible above the sound of gunfire, and I know Ryzhanov is getting away. The people here mean nothing to him. This isn’t his crew. He won’t be crippled if everyone in this warehouse dies, but we will be. With one last glance at the men left standing, I fire my machine gun and the bodies fall.

My ears ring, and coke balloons in the air, softly falling upon the dead like snow. I glance at my brothers. Crazy is on the ground, pummelling his fist into someone’s face. Kick, Tank, Raphe, and Killer don’t appear to be missing body parts or have holes in their vital organs, so I’d consider that a win. Trigger, on the other hand, is bleeding not just from his bicep, but his thigh and shoulder too. “Trigger!”

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