Chapter 1
Thorn
Gun shots pierced through the quiet night making my heart start to race.
“Get cover!” Enzo hollered.
My brothers scattered, running from the shipping container that they were unloading to take cover.
Enzo was our president of the MC. He was crouched behind his Harley with two of our other members. Flashing blue lights coming from unmarked sedans were the only thing besides a few rusty lights on the edge of a warehouse that lit up the darkness.
“Put down your guns!” a voice on a megaphone yelled. “We have you surrounded.”
Enzo was yelling again at everyone, but I couldn’t make out what he was saying over the sound of bullets whizzing by me. Enzo jumped up and returned fire at the ATF agents that were coming out of the fucking woodwork.
The rest of my brothers followed suit and started firing at anything that moved. They needed to get out of there before more agents showed up. I tried my best to yell at them to leave but none of them listened to me. I felt my throat start to become raw from trying to get their attention.
I heard the sound of sirens get closer as more police officers and agents drove inot the port.
Four of my brothers decided to make a run for it, and try and hop over a nearby fence. I watched in horror as four of them were gunned down. Their bodies fell to the ground in heaps and I tried to rush over to them to help them, but my feet wouldn’t budge.
All I could do was let out a loud scream.
My body shot up from my bed with a start. Sweat covered my body and my bedsheets were kicked to the ground. I knew I was dreaming because I wasn't there the night that my club got busted. I should have fucking been there with my brothers. More importantly, I should have looked into our Mexican contacts more. I should have realized that their deal was too good to be true. Because of my mistake, now our President, Enzo, was in jail.
The fucked-up thing was, Enzo wasn't supposed to be there at the port either. He didn't usually attend the collection of our gun shipments because we all knew that it was risky for the President of an MC to be there for a collection. That night, however, because we were getting a shipment from our brand-new contacts in Mexico, Enzo decided to go. He wanted to oversee it himself; especially since I wasn't going to be there to look into it.
I had gotten shot the night before, right on my shoulder during a shootout with one of our rival clubs. The Steel Skulls had tried to raid one of our storage warehouses and steal some of our AK-47’s. The bastards had been trying to get into the gun business for months, and we had managed to lock them out of ever deal. SoCal was our fucking territory and we weren’t going to let them take it.
We defended our assets and scared the fuckers off, but not before one of them snagged me in the shoulder. The wound was nothing to worry about, the bullet just grazed my skin. I tried to convince Enzo and the boys that I was fine, but they told me that I needed at least a day to recover. Now, I wished that I hadn't listened to them. I was blaming myself. Maybe if I was there that night, I might have been able to do something differently.
Every time I closed my eyes, I was pictured the moment that the ATF raided the port. Even though I wasn't there, I kept imagining it in my sleep. Enzo and my brothers, going about their business, talking about what a goldmine these new contacts in Mexico were. Little did they know that all of it was a fucking set up.
I had my doubts about them from the very beginning, and I should have listened to my gut. When something seems too good to be true, it probably was.
They had been working with the ATF all along. It was a trap. We all knew that the ATF had been working hard to infiltrate our club for several months or catch us in an act that they could then hang over our heads. Raiding our secret port at night, in the middle of a weapon shipment being collected was ideal. They were able to arrest all the club members who were present at the time.
Thankfully, the rest of us were still free. They had no hard evidence on us, not yet anyway.
Now, four of my brothers were dead. Six of them were arrested, including Enzo. Our club was under attack, and I was sitting in my apartment, drinking endless cans of beer and watching some shit on the television. I didn't need rest; there was nothing wrong with my shoulder. I should have been there with my brothers, putting up a defense, fighting beside them. I deserved to be in jail with the rest of them if that was our fate.
Maybe we wouldn't have lost the four others if there were more of us on the scene.
I woke up in a cold sweat, panting.
Our club had taken a bad hit. We were without a President. Enzo was the man we all looked up to. He was our guide. He was fair and harsh, and we all respected him. Now he was sitting in prison, and there was nothing that the club could do for him to get him out.
Enzo had taken me under his wing several months ago; as the new VP and now with him gone-the natural progression was for me to take over. I didn't know if I was ready to be the President of The Grim Reapers motorcycle club. I didn't know if I could handle the responsibility. I was just a tough kid from a rough neighborhood who was given a break by The Grim Reapers. I didn't know if I had any leadership skills, I didn't know if I could replace Enzo-but what choice did I have now?
I threw my legs over the side of the bed and stood up. Every night, for the past three days since the ATF busted us, had been like this. I hadn't slept more than a handful of hours since then. My mind was wrecked with thoughts of the night, what I could have done to help, what I was going to do now that I was President, what Enzo and my brothers were going to face in prison now.
I paced around my apartment in the dark, till I cracked open a can of beer to calm myself down. It was four in the morning and all I'd been fueled by in the last few days was alcohol.
My phone rang in the bedroom, making me nearly jump out of my skin. I rushed to it and answered on the fourth ring. It was a collect call from the local prison, and I knew immediately who it was. I accepted it and waited for Enzo's deep calm voice at the other end.
"Did I wake you, Thorn?" he said, and I clenched my jaw and closed my eyes.
"I don't remember what it feels like to be sleeping," I said, and when I heard Enzo chuckle, my shoulders relaxed a bit too.
"I could say the same. Anyway, they're transferring us to County jail tomorrow," he continued, and my eyes flew open.
"I'll set up a protection ring inside for you and the others," I said, still pacing around the apartment as I spoke to him.
"That won't be necessary, Thorn, we're already on it," Enzo said, and I was surprised again by how calm he sounded. By how calm he had been through this entire thing. It was like he trusted me to handle all this completely. I didn't even trust myself.
"What I need you to do is handle things on the outside," he continued, and I gripped the phone tighter in my hand.
"I'm going to figure out a way to fight back. Those assholes in Mexico need to be shown that nobody snitches on us," I was gritting my teeth hard as I spoke, and instead of Enzo agreeing with me, I was surprised to hear him clucking his tongue. Like he disapproved.
"See, that is exactly what you need not to do, Thorn," Enzo said, and I stopped pacing in my tracks. My brows were crossed. I was confused, and my veins were pumped with adrenaline.
"I need you to lay low. You think you can do that?" Enzo's voice sounded firm and hopeful at the same time. I shook my head, my eyes small and burning with rage and confusion.
"You want us to lay low? You don't want us to fight back? What are they doing to you in there, boss?" I asked, and I heard him take in a deep breath.
"Nothing. We took a big hit. Four of our guys are dead. Six of us are in prison. What do you think is going on, Thorn?" he sounded angrier now and I gritted my teeth.
"Our club is under attack," I said, in a low deep growl.
"That's right, and now is not the time to launch our own attack. You hear me, Thorn?" Enzo said. I said nothing.
"You are President now, and I picked you as VP for exactly a situation like this. I need you to be calm, to lay low, stay away from weapons and all the other bullshit, so the whole club doesn't end up here," he continued.
"What do we do then? You want us to just sit around and do nothing?" I was barking into the phone, but Enzo was still calm.
"I know you'll figure something out, Thorn. This is what you're good at. You know how to figure shit out," he said, but I could hear the worry in his voice. He might have been pretending to be calm and like he was in control of what was going on around him, but underneath the surface, he was just as fucked up about this as I was.
"Yeah, I'll figure something out," I replied in a deep quiet voice.
"Good. I'll see you on the other side, soon," Enzo said, and with that, he had ended the call.
I waited for a few moments, listening to the white noise of the disconnected call and then, in anger, I threw my phone to the ground. Stopping myself just in time from stomping on it. I wasn't mad at Enzo. I was mad at myself. Mad at those fucking assholes in Mexico. Mad at the ATF.
I should have been there. I should have looked into the new contacts. I should have sniffed out that something was up.
I picked up my phone again and sent a text out to my core team. I was calling for Church first thing in the morning. We needed to figure this shit out. If laying low and staying away from trouble was what Enzo wanted, that was what I'd give him.
Picking up my discarded can of beer, I sat down on the couch in the living room and waited for the sun to rise.