Page 102 of Marcus: Sins of the Father

The two circle each other like predators looking to attack. Jackal is big, his muscles rippling, but I know he’s no match for Cole. Cole shares his height. But his build is leaner, and he beats him in speed, wits, and the pure rage that is currently bubbling under the calm exterior.

Jackal swings, and Cole easily sidesteps, while landing his own punch to Jackal’s jaw. His head snaps back, eyes tracking Cole. He charges him, taking our president around the waist and driving him into the wall. Cole pummels him from above, pounding into his head and back.

Jackal stumbles, and Cole takes his opening, punching him in the face and knocking him to the ground. Cole pins him and gives him a beat down.

“All right, Cole,” Crash interrupts after several minutes. “I want to get a few of my own in while he’s still breathing.”

Cole climbs from him and glances toward the rest of us. “Teach the rest of his men a lesson.” Then he walks to the kitchen, turns on the water, and sticks his bloody cracked knuckles under the flow.

Billy moves toward Trigger. I approach a member closest to me I don’t recognize, ready to do my club’s bidding. We pound on them for several minutes.

Now that the Death Heads are thoroughly bruised and bleeding. Cole walks into the room.

“You’re not welcome in our state. Have we made ourselves fucking clear?”

Whiskey, the man who stepped between Jackal and Billy that day at the gas station, speaks up. “Crystal.”

“Good. Your supplier is pissed and knows you put them in a predicament by lying about who owns this state. We were left paying your bill, so I think we need our reimbursement, right Marcus?”

I glance at Cole, and taking his cue, I move forward, seize the Death Heads' wallets and pull all the cash I find. Billy comes up with the case full of cash they were probably going to use as payment for the girls.

Cole takes in the pile we pillaged from them. “That should cover what we had to shell out, plus a little extra for our troubles, but if I see you in my state again, we’ll kill you.”

Whiskey nods.

“Now get the fuck out of my state.”

Whiskey and Trigger move forward to lift what’s left of Jackal to his feet. They exit slowly, limping to their bikes.

We watch as they ride out. The Dead Souls follow behind them, ensuring they cross over the border where they belong.

“I think it’s time we call Daytona and let the boys at the Vegas chapter know they’ve got competition setting up.” Cole stares after the disappearing taillights.

Crash nods. “I think you’re right.”

“And make sure the Dead Souls are on high alert. I don’t want the Death Heads surprising us with retaliation.”

I walk over to where TJ leans against a wall.

“What’d you guys do with the girls?” I whisper to him.

“They had me take them to a women’s shelter. Left before the people there asked me any questions.”

I nod, thankful they were taken somewhere safe. The whole thing turns my stomach. We deal with some rough people, and I don’t mind handling anything that results from that, but pulling innocent women into the fold is a line I won’t cross. I’m glad the brothers are on the same page.

This went better than I could have expected, but I can’t help but feel we just prodded a bunch of angry hornets. Jackal doesn’t seem to be the kind of man who will turn and run with his tail between his legs. He seems like the kind of man who likes revenge.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN – GOOD GIRL

Marcus—

It’s been a couple months since we drove the Death Heads out.

The Dead Souls have watched their border, and there’s been no sign of any plans of revenge. They seemed to have taken our message to heart.

I park my truck in the circular drive of Brandy’s parents’ house. Before I knock on their large wooden double doors, they swing open, and I’m staring at Brandy.

“What are you doing here?” I smile. “I thought you were working late helping with the set for the opera opening this weekend?”

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