The talk was from his tracker that Hades had been out of town for months, only returning this week, where he’d been no one knew, all Rider needed to know was the fucker was back in his own territory and was ripe for the plucking; with a gun and many-fucking-bullets.
“We’re ghosts, understand? Once we’re inside their flop I don’t care if one of them sees you, as long as you plug it up before his gums can flap and call attention to us. No fancy dancin’ in there, I mean you Hawk...Lawless.” Rider glanced at one then the other enforcer.
“Straight kills, no calling cards left.”
Even as Hawk scowled he nodded agreement.
Tonight wasn’t the time to get fancy with the cutting, there were too many eventualities that could go wrong and too many of the Rebel’s to take to their demise.
Fast and brutal was the command.
They’d left their bikes a mile down the road tucked into a grove out of sight, anyone driving by, even with their high beams on, wouldn’t see the row of ten Harley bikes, no would could place theSoulsanywhere near the Raging Rebel’s clubhouse, it was all the way across to a neighboring town and if and when the police came to call, and they would, Rider and his boys all were alibi’ed to fuck.
They had groupies waiting at their compound, soon as they got back they’d get to fucking, and drinking and partying as loud and rowdy as they could get it.
Did we cause all that mayhem for Kyle Williams and his bloodbath? Not us, officers, we were here the entire night watching the game, knocking back beers, and fucking our ladies, you got the wrong men.
Keep the alibi short and sweet, it was when a person got complicated that they tripped themselves up.
Rider pulled a black skull cap over his hair, tied on a blue bandana around his lower face, next he slipped on a pair of black leather gloves, he flexed his fingers getting the right fit.
Patting his chest automatically searching out his weapons.
It was strange to anyone else to plan not just a murder but a mass murder.
This was the life Rider was in.
Hades didn’t understand reasonable compromise, and for a man like him, Rider wouldn’t compromise, wouldn’t coexist next to him, not when he was blatantly trying to take over Rider’s patch, he’d worked too damn hard.
“Prez. All set?”
Tension rode down Rider’s spine as he gave the single nod to his boys. This was not his first kill, he’d done a lot of bad shit in his life if his path was traced back to when his went awry then it would travel back to when he was fourteen, the day his father decided his boy would become aSoulsprospect.
It wasn’t though Rider was made bad, he just decided on that path, there wasn’t any stumbling the wrong way, he deliberately, meticulously made all his decisions, knew exactly what he was doing.
The standard doesn’t always have to be a bad person who makes the bad decisions, sometimes a bad decision is all you have because of situation you are in.
Rider never believed in luck, or fate, or destiny. You got what you put in and by god from the age of fourteen he had put in his all, to get where he was, to own his small part of the world.
Rider was a legend in his domain for what he’d achieved in such a small amount of time.
And he wasn’t going to let one dickbrain like Hades try to take it away from him.
History books never told the truth of wars, and battles, not really.
It was a condensed version of heroes who won in the end, never telling their journey.
Whatever Rider’s choices, those bad decisions that turned him into the bad man he was today, all led him to tonight.
He felt it in his bones, the way calmness came down over him when he and his men forged forward, breaking and entering like the criminals they were.
Each one of his men had a role to play and it was executed beautifully.
Murder was an ugly business to be in. But some bad men had to do it.
Rider’s men were the worst.
As he moved through the unkempt building theRebelscalled home, the stench of weed and unwashed bodies from every corner, the darkness enveloped him, he listened to sounds of death, his boys didn’t waste time.