Page 25 of Reaper & the Lioness
“Ready,” Archer followed.
The distant rumble of an engine broke the silence. Right on time.
I watched as the semi-truck rolled into view. Its headlights cut through the darkness. Behind the wheel, Hatchet played his part—an unsuspecting driver with a load of our “lost” military-grade weapons.
As the truck came to a stop, I held my breath. We’d set the trap. Now, we waited for our prey.
Like rats drawn to cheese, ten Rangers pulled up on their bikes with weapons drawn. I could see the greed glinting in their eyes as they approached the truck.
Poor bastards thought they’d stumbled onto the score of a lifetime. They had no idea they’d walked right into our trap.
I pressed the radio button as they approached. “Collect their souls.”
The night exploded into chaos. The staccato rhythm of gunfire filled the air as my men opened up from all sides. On the roof, muzzle flashes erupted as Jay and Archer picked off the men with cold efficiency.
The Rangers never stood a chance.
Caught in the crossfire, they fell one by one, their screams of confusion and pain silenced.
When the last echoes of gunfire faded away, I stepped out. Gunpowder and death hung heavy in the air as I surveyed the carnage. Bodies lay strewn across the ground. Their blood seeped into the cracked asphalt.
“Unload the weapons and clean this up,” I ordered. “Put the bodies in the container, and we’ll use it to transport them all to the incinerator. Bones left the junkyard unlocked for us.”
Thane stepped beside me as we watched our men move with practiced efficiency. He took a long draw of his cigarette before speaking. “Not a single leader here tonight. They sent foot soldiers only. Fuckin’ pussies.”
I nodded, watching my men unload and move the weapons into the warehouse.
“You know this means the war isn’t over. Things are going to get worse before they get better.”
Thane took another long drag of his cigarette and nodded.
Within the hour, my men piled the Rangers’ bodies into the empty container, and we wheeled their bullet-riddled bikes into the warehouse. They’d fetch a reasonable price at the chop shop. I’d even let my brothers pick pieces from the remains for their own bikes first.
The Rangers had brought the battle to us again, but we’d reaped every one and had walked away unscathed. They’d think twice before underestimating us again.
And, if they wanted a fight, we’d give them a goddamn war.
My phone dinged. The Mavericks group chat lit up with a screenshot that immediately set my nerves on edge.
The image detailed the action agenda of an upcoming City Council Special Meeting. Linc had circled one agenda item: “Discuss and consider the allowance of businesses associated with criminal enterprises.”
Another screenshot followed. It was a post from Danielle, who was crowing on Facebook about meeting with the city administrator. She bragged about her “victory” in getting her boycott on the city council agenda. The comments section was a dumpster fire of middle-aged women clutching their pearls and waving their pitchforks.
God-fucking-damn-it. A flurry of curses escaped me as I informed the group I’d call our PR consultant and lawyer. We’d want them there.
Me: Have you seen this?
Eva: Shit. Call me.
I stared at the phone for a beat. The audacity of this woman, barking orders at me like I worked for her. The phone barely rang once before she answered.
“Hello?”
Eva didn’t bother with a greeting. She dove in without a preamble, using her bossy consultant tone that amused, irritated, and aroused me all at the same time.
“I need you to get every Maverick who owns a business to show up to this meeting. If they have a family, I want them there. Kids, wives. Hell, they should bring their sweet old grandmothers if they’re still around. And I want them dressed like they’re going to church. No cuts this time.”
I ground my teeth. “Why? What’s your plan?”
