Page 31 of Royal's Reign
“Let me do the honors,” Banshee breaks some of the tension by kicking off one of his boots and peeling off a dirty, gray sock. “Creep, you use them cheap plastic lighters, don’t you?” He holds out his hand to our Treasurer. A quick check of his pocket and Creep brings out a yellow cased lighter and hands it over. “Perfect. It will take me about five to get this ready, is that enough time for you to be ready to go, Prez?” he asks putting his foot back in his boot and stamping until it’s firmly in place.
“Grinder, let Quarter and Scotty know what’s going down and be ready to move,” I instruct my VP. “Banshee, let the fireworks begin.”
Banshee tucks the sock into the waistband of his jeans, pulling his t-shirt over to cover it. The lighter slips into his pocket before he shucks off his cut and hands it to one of his brothers.
“Good idea. Let’s lose the cuts brothers, let’s not advertize the fact we’re here,” I instruct them all. Weshould have ditched them before we left the clubhouse, but in the rush of it all, it hadn’t even crossed my mind.
Next minute, Banshee saunters down the road like he hasn’t a care in the world, looking like a regular Joe minding his own business. As he gets closer to the house next door to Caal’s the door opens and out steps one of his goon’s. We all hold our breath waiting, thinking that our plan is going to go to crash before we’ve even taken flight.
Within a blink, Banshee has his phone out, holds it up in the air and starts taking pictures of the house next door. The Goon walks up to him. A conversation that we can’t hear goes down.
“Hammer, can you make out what he’s saying?” I ask my Road Captain, who has a knack at lip reading.
“Too far away Prez, but I did catch the words sale and listing. I think Banshee is making out that he’s there to take pictures for the Realtor.”
“Fuck me,” I snigger when Banshee lets out a laugh that we most definitely can hear as the guy walks back to the house. A soon as the door closes behind him, Banshee is on the move. Still taking a few shots on his phone, but edging nearer to the Bentley. Two more steps back, and then he’s dropping down out of sight. We all stand still waiting.
“What if this doesn’t work?” Grinder whispers so only I can hear.
“It’s got to work,” I reply, trying to keep the fear from my voice. It just has to.
Banshee is back in view. Two quick photos and he’s pacing back towards us, then dives into where we are hidden out of view.
“Done,”
“What did you do exactly?” I smirk at him.
“Prised open the gas tank cap, put in the sock and lit the fabric. Just hope the tank isn’t full, because it’s the vapor that’s flammable, not the fuel itself. Might take a min?—”
Boom!
Instinct has us all crouched with our hands over our heads. Except for Banshee, he’s revelling in the sight, unaffected by the sound of the explosion.
A metal plate, that looks like the hood of the trunk, flies up then crashes on top of the car roof. Black smoke and bright orange and yellow flames bellow from the side and back of the car. The door of the house flies open, out comes four, no, five men, all armed: two with handguns the other three with assault rifles. Before they even see us coming, we pick off two of the men, a third following straight after. Another man comes to the doorway, but holds back, shooting from where he’s partially hidden. Another round of shots come from one of the upstairs windows. I raise my Glock, check my sight, the dark outline of a figure found in my scope, and I squeeze the trigger.
Four down, two, maybe more, still to go.
“Cover me,” I shout to my brothers then surge forward. I know without even looking that Grinderwill be right behind me, cursing the shit out of me for going in first. I don’t give a shit. I need to get to Giorgia.
Despite been big and muscley I’ve always been quick on my feet, so the speed I go at the front door, and the fire cover my brothers are giving me, gets me near enough to bring down the guy in the doorway with a clean shot to the head. My shoulder jerks back and I almost miss my footing, but it doesn’t stop me from careening through the entrance and into the large open space of the house. A figure comes into my peripheral vision and I raise my gun, ready to clip one off.
“Prez,” Quarter shouts and I quickly point the gun to the floor. “Down here is clear. About to check upstairs.”
Without hesitation I take the steps two at a time, my gun raised, eyes trained on the upper level, ready to take a shot if needed. I reach the top of the stairs, step out onto the landing, not a single soul in sight. Doors, so many doors. A quick check over my shoulder I see that Grinder, Quarter and Creep are right behind me. Using two fingers, I silently direct Quarter and Creep to the two doors located to the left side, while Grinder and I make our way down the right side, where the majority of the doors are. We work in sequence, each taking a door; slamming them open at the same time, quickly checking the room before moving on to the next. I’m about to make the signal to move on the next two doors when, don’t askme why, instinct maybe, common-sense, odds-on gamble, who knows, but I turn and face the door at the very end.
My feet start moving with focus and determination until I’ve removed the space between me and that door. I don’t try the handle. I raise my booted foot and kick that fucker in.
When the doors fly open, the sight I see is one that could potentially break me.
“Noah,” Giorgia cries out in warning. Her body trembling; tears streaming from her eyes that keep flicking to the side, towards the gun that is pointing at her temple.
“Ah, Noah King,” Caal greets me. “Or should I call you Royal?” I go to snarl back at him but before a word leaves me, he adds. “And as expected, right behind you, your VP Grinder.”
“Fucking let her go,” Grinder snarls from behind me. When he tries to come past me, I swing out my arm to hold him back.
“Garth Moore. The big brother. It’s been a while since our paths last crossed.”
“What the fuck are you on about,” Grinder sneers. “I’ve never met you before.”
