Page 61 of Rooster

“Just playing it safe.”

“Cotton and Grant on the rooftop is playing it safe?”

“I don’t know what to tell ya.” I shrugged. “This whole thing is new to everyone. We’re still learning all the ins and outs, and we don’t want to take any chances until we have figured everything out.”

“And if these runners are looking for trouble?”

“Then, they’ll find it. We just drove four fucking hours. I’m hungry, tired, and I need to take a piss.” We were at an old, abandoned school in Portland, and the place was in rough shape. There were remnants of broken windows and graffiti-covered walls, and the grounds were covered in litter. “I’m not in the mood to fuck around with some fucking assholes with an axe to grind.”

“Same, brother. Same.”

Torch and I stood in the center of the courtyard, waiting impatiently with Chains, Clutch, and Q, and it wasn’t long until two black Camaros pulled up to the school. I squared my shoulders and watched as the car doors eased open, and one by one, the handlers stepped out of the vehicles. They were wearing leather cuts that bore the unmistakable emblem of a reaper wielding a scythe.

“Fuck,” Clutch muttered. “It’s the California Reapers.”

“Yeah, what about ‘em?”

Clutch remained eerily calm as he explained, “Our California chapter has run into some trouble with them.”

“We could always tell them to fuck off.”

“I’m with Q. They can get their guns from someone else, especially if they’re using them to go against our brothers.”

“It’s not their guns, remember?”

There was always a level of distrust when doing an exchange, but meeting with a rival MC took that feeling of distrust to a whole new level. The first to start walking towards us was sporting an enforcer patch. A mountain of a man, he exuded an air of intimidation as he gave us the once-over.

The second was slightly taller and much thinner. He was covered in ink and moved with a calculated ease, much like the man behind him. This guy was a towering figure with a shaved head and a gaze that seemed to pierce through the shadows. The last guy was muscled up like his brothers, only he was much older and walked a bit slower than the others. But he wasn’t any less menacing.

The air crackled with an unspoken challenge as the first approached and asked, “So, you boys are Fury?”

“We are.”

“We’ve had run-ins with your brothers from the Los Angeles chapter.”

“So, we’ve heard.”

“They’re some real pricks.” The enforcer glanced over at his brothers before adding, “Bet you boys are cut from the same cloth.”

“That’s what makes us brothers.” I knew he was trying to fuck with me, but I wasn’t going to have it. “You want the fucking goods or not?”

“Wouldn’t be here if we didn’t.” His lip twitched with disgust as he asked, “So, how’d you boys manage to pick up this gig?”

“Don’t see how that’s any of your concern,” Q barked.

“It’s a curiosity. Not a fucking concern.” He glanced over at his brothers as he scoffed, “Damn. You Fury boys really think a lot of yourselves.”

“You best watch your fucking tone.”

“You best watch yours.” His eyes narrowed. “We already had to show your brothers what’s what. Don’t make us do the same with you.”

He was goading me, and it was working.

I didn’t want to let the motherfucker get to me, but when he put his hands on my chest and gave me a hard shove, I was done. I reared my fist back and slugged the asshole right in the jaw, sending his head flailing back.

And just like that, we were at each other’s throats.

And not just us.

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