Page 68 of Xander
I made it to the clubhouse and headed to church.
I was the last one, so I closed the door and took my seat.
The moment my ass was in my chair, Nuke banged the gavel, then he said, “Alright, brothers. Just got the call. Feds need our help in taking down the Grolowski Crime Family.”
The Grolowski Crime Family had migrated down here about five years or so ago. And since they had come here, we had noticed an uptick in child trafficking.
Every time we got a few girls and boys to safety, five more took their place.
It was a never-ending cycle, and we had been waiting to put everything to bed once and for all, so to speak.
Merlin pulled up the diagrams of the mansion they had.
And we planned.
We would be entering the mansion on the south side, where the soldiers’ quarters were held.
Taking out as many of them as we could so the resistance would be minimal.
Three hours later, I climbed off my bike and then stood shoulder to shoulder with my brothers in front of the back half of the property.
This had been a long time coming.
Agent Ericson met us and gave us the lowdown and what they needed from us.
And when necks were finished being cracked, knuckles had been popped, we moved.
An hour later, bullets littered the marble floor, blood splattered the walls, the smell of gunpowder littered the air.
Girls and boys were loaded up in black vans.
The feds swooped in then to take credit of the takedown and to clean up the mess.
Agent Ericson clasped hands with Nuke and nodded.
We got on our bikes and drove away.
Very rarely did we help them in any capacity.
However, when it came to kids, there wasn’t a law we wouldn’t break, in their world, and in ours.
I thought about heading to the clubhouse, drinking myself into oblivion, and trying to wipe the images from my mind.
The images of the men’s faces who had paled after I shot them all.
The eyes.
The noses.
The lips.
The hair.
The jaws.
I recalled everything.
And I knew that drinking myself into oblivion wouldn’t help.
