Page 101 of Marcus: Sins of the Father

The trailer comes into view, and I spot six Death Heads running to their bikes. Then Shane, Jake, and the Dead Souls roar up on the other side. The Death Heads slow as they realize they’re surrounded.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in.” Green rolls to a stop.

“Yeah, I fucking hate when the cat brings rodents into our house,” Shane adds.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Jackal sneers, his gold tooth reflecting the moonlight.

“I think the better question is, what the fuck are you doing in our state, you slimy little shit?” Red Dog roars, drawing his gun. The rest of us follow suit, pulling our own pieces.

I glance around. This trailer sits at the back by itself with trees that mostly block its view from any neighbors, but we’re making a hell of a lot of noise.

Jake seems to be thinking the same thing. “Let’s move this party inside, less likely to hear the screams.”

Green nods.

We dismount, and after disarming them, we drag the Death Heads inside. The trailer is old with pea green shag carpeting and grimy wood paneling. Everything stinks of cigarette smoke, reefer, and the dirty dishes piled in the sink. Beer bottles litter the place.

“So, you want to tell us what the fuck you’ve been up to?” Green asks, directing his question to Jackal, the one in charge of this crew.

“That’s our damn business,” he grits out.

“Wrong.” Red Dog picks him up by the collar and slams him into the wall. “You don’t have business in our state.”

“We’ll see if our supplier agrees when they get here.” He spits.

Red Dog rears his fist back and punches him in the face. “Your mouth is pissing me off.”

Jackal twists his head and spits. Blood trickles out of the corner of his lips and into his dark scraggly beard.

“Hey, I think I hear your supplier now.” Jake grins as the rumble of more bikes approaching rattles the windows.

Green huffs out a wicked laugh. “Sounds to me like Hell’s Fury just rolled in.”

Boots stomp up the steps right before the metal door swings open to bang against the wall.

Cole’s large outline stands in the doorway, flanked by Wolf and Crash. They all look ready to kill. The Death Heads have no idea the beasts they awoke. This isn’t just treading on our territory; this is personal. The Death Heads have no clue the girls they screwed with the other day were the daughters of our president and VP or that their wives experienced trafficking first hand. Yup, they have no idea the world of hurt they are in for.

“Well, if it ain’t the president.” Jackal spits more blood out.

“You in charge?” Cole asks, moving across the room.

“Yeah.” Jackal barely gets the words out before Cole grabs him by his cut and throws him to the floor, slamming his boot into the man’s gut.

Jackal clutches his stomach. “I’m just doing a pickup. It’s not hurting you or your business. It’s not guns.”

“I’m aware of what business you’ve been up to.” Cole flexes his fist.

“What, got a soft heart?” Jackal gets to his knees with a sadistic laugh.

“Nope. No soft heart here. Especially not for the likes of you. But we respect our women in this state.” Cole grabs Jackal and hauls him to his feet. Then he swings a punch, landing one to his nose. The resounding crack announces the break seconds before the gushing blood does.

“You’re lucky there are so many of you.” Jackal wipes the blood from his face with the back of his hand.

“No one’s going to interfere. Go ahead, swing back. I dare you.” Cole’s mouth turns up at the corners. The smile doesn’t reach his eyes, and it’s the scariest I’ve ever seen him.

“Don’t forget to save a piece for me.” Crash clenches his fist at his side.

Jackal gains his feet, glancing Crash’s way before turning his full attention to Cole.

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