Page 79 of Tinsel & Chrome

The emotions are bottling up in my throat, and I know what the kid is feeling. The man slaps the boy and sends him against the door. The kid hits his head on the door. Then the kid moves his hands up to rub his head; that’s when I see the lacerations on his wrists.

The man starts the car and pulls out of the station.

“Brothers, I’m going after him,” I say.

“Let’s do it,” Ice says, nodding.

Psycho and Enforcer nod and turn on their bikes. I pull out of the gas station and follow the car from a distance. I don’t want the man to know that I’m coming after him.

That fucker is dead.

I watch the man drive down a run-down area where the small houses are in need of repairs and a fresh coat of paint. I watch the Honda pull into a driveway at the end of the street.

I pull up to the side of the curb a few houses back and get off my bike. I pull off my helmet and jog down the street. The group of teenage fuckers move when they see me.

“Keep your traps closed,” I growl, glaring at them as I pass.

These fuckers are just small time thugs. My Brothers are behind me, and I run up to the door.

“Stop,” a child yells.

My chest tightens, and my mind returns to the times that I was in pain. I know what the child is feeling.

I take a step back and kick the door down. I run into the small house, pulling out my Glock.

“Fucker, stop,” I yell, looking at the open floor plan; the living room and kitchen have dog pens, with other children inside them.

The small children curl into themselves, and my anger flares.

“Who the fuck are you,” the man asks, gathering his brows.

“What the fuck are you doing,” I growl, pointing my gun at him.

“Get the fuck out of my house and out of my business,” the man yells.

The fucker doesn’t look scared, but then my Brothers walk into the house, then the bastard backs up.

I look at the small crying boy, who was in the car at the gas station. The bastard was abusing him, and that fucking incites a rage that makes me see red.

“It looks like you have been abusing these kids in more ways than one,” I yell.

“Jack, what’s going on,” another man walks into the living room from the hall.

“Run,” Jack yells.

“Shut your trap,” I yell.

My Brother Ice aims his gun at the new fucker.

“Motherfucker, walk back to the room,” Ice yells, walking closer to the man.

The guy walks down the hall, and Ice follows the bastard.

“Fucker, walk down the hall,” I yell at the man.

My Brothers stay in the living room, talking to the kids.

I aim at his ugly mug and stop. I don’t want to traumatize the kids.

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