Page 119 of Marcus: Sins of the Father

“We taught ‘em a lesson. Took two of their girls. Prospect girls. They’re basically nobodies.”

Before I can say another word, Flick returns, shaking his head. “Nobody answered.”

Moments later, I can hear the rumble of not a few bikes, but a fucking army of them.

I grab Jackal by the collar and throw him into the wall. “Fucking nobodies, huh?”

“I swear.”

I spit on him. “Now I have to go clean up your damn mess before this turns into a fucking blood bath and, from the sounds of it, it’ll be our blood.”

I point to Whiskey on the way out. He’s the only other brother capable of keeping Jackal and his crew in check. “Keep him the fuck inside.”

Trusting at least one of my men will do what I fucking tell him, I push through the doors to see about thirty or forty Evil Dead with guns drawn.

I hold my hands up to show truce and walk toward the bikes.

“Cole. Daytona,” I call, recognizing two at the front.

“Snake, we’re not here for a chat,” Cole grits out, his steely eyes tracking me.

“I know. I had a crew go rogue. Took some of your prospects’ ladies.”

“Wrong,” a man wearing their VP patch speaks up. “They took my daughter.”

Oh, fuck. I’m sure the look on my face gives my shock away, quickly followed by my anger. I hate being put in this position. Now I’ve got to fucking concede to this bunch. I grit my teeth. “Those to blame will be dealt with accordingly. Got my word.”

“Damn right, they will. But we’re gonna be the ones to deal with them,” Cole demands in a no-nonsense voice.

***

Marcus—

I climb from the van. The girls pile in the bench seat next to me. “I’ll be right back. You’re both safe.”

They nod, looking around. They’re surrounded on all sides by bikers who would lay down their lives for them.

I walk toward the rest of the men, whom I hope will soon be my brothers, and wait. The Death Heads president has been talking to Cole, Crash, Daytona, Trick, and Wyatt for a while now.

Crash looks over his shoulder and spots me. He calls me over with two fingers.

I hope he’s not pissed I left the van.

He whispers the deal they just made in my ear, and I give a curt nod.

The door of the clubhouse bursts open, and Death Heads come spilling out, but their numbers barely make up a third of ours.

Jackal makes his way to the front as some of the Evil Dead climb on their bikes, strapping their helmets on.

“What the fuck is this? You going to just let them ride out of here?” Jackal practically screams at Snake, lifting an arm toward us.

“Nope. We made a deal.” Snake walks toward his crew, leaving Jackal standing there huffing.

“What fucking deal?” he yells after Snake.

“We agreed to forgive all and not start a war,” Crash speaks up, then grins and lifts a chin at Jackal. “In exchange for your head, motherfucker.”

Before Jackal has a chance to let the words sink in, Crash raises his gun and fires.

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