Friday night after I’m done closing the garage I head over to Kings Ink, the other business we run in town, right across the street from the shop.

I need to finish the sleeve on my left arm. Gabriel, our enforcer, runs the place. He’s also the best artist in Montana. He has people come from all over the state wanting him to work on them, but no matter how busy he is, he always makes time for his brothers.

Gabriel and I prospected together when I was eighteen and he was nineteen. I remember the first time I met him. I had just turned eighteen and was prospecting when Jake took a trip to Florida to visit his mom. When he pulled up to the compound, after being gone a week, he had some guy with him. The only explanation he offered was, ‘this is Gabriel, he’s the new prospect,’ and for me to show him how things worked.

My first impression was he’s going to fit right the fuck in. Our club is full of big, crazy lookin’ motherfuckers and Gabriel was a big motherfucker.

Hell, I stand at six-foot-two. He stands at least six-foot-four, with short black hair, eyes so dark they look almost black, and what looks to be a permanent scowl on his face. I wasn’t so sure I was looking forward to hangin’ with him, but as time went on Gabriel slowly started opening up.

After weeks of grunts and one-word answers, he started talking to me, telling me about his past and how he met Jake.

Jake met Gabriel after watching him rob a gas station. While pumping his gas, he watched the whole thing happen. After, Gabriel jumped into his car and took off. Jake followed him to some shit motel about five miles from the place.

Prez being the crazy motherfucker that he is, just walked right up to that motel door and knocked.

Gabriel opened the door to the motel, gun drawn.

“No need for that, son.” Is what Jake had said to him.

I once asked Jake what made him go after some kid robbing a gas station.

“Had a gut feelin’,” was his explanation.

Jake always says you should trust your gut.

He was right because I couldn’t ask for a better brother. Gabriel told me he and his father left Cuba when he was only ten, leaving behind his mother and sister.

Six years after coming to the U.S., his father died.

After hearing his story, I soon realized that he wasn’t a bad guy at all, he just had a chip on his shoulder. In many ways, I could relate. We both lost important people in our lives but had gained something as well.

After a while, I could see the change the club was having on him. He was beginning to see this as a family, a brotherhood. Having a family again was exactly what Gabriel had needed.

As prospects, we were made to bunk in a room together, and one night I notice him sitting up in his bed writing in a notebook. I also had noticed that he was never really without it. Every spare moment was spent scribbling in that damn thing. So, one night I asked him what he was writing. He had studied me for a moment before handing it over. Every page was filled with amazing fuckin’ drawings.

The next day I grabbed his notebook out of the dresser and took it to Jake.

I had remembered Jake mentioning that Bobby, an older club member who ran the tattoo shop was looking for someone to start helping around Kings Ink.

Bobby was getting older, and his eyes were not as sharp as they use to be; therefore, he needed someone to slowly start taking the reins.

It took Jake about five seconds of looking at Gabriel’s work to know exactly what I was thinking.

Later that day, Jake approached Gabriel, telling him he wanted him to apprentice alongside Bobby at the tattoo shop.

Fast forward seven years, Gabriel now manages Kings Ink and is the most renowned tattoo artist in the state, and I manage Kings Custom Bikes.

Walking in the tattoo shop, I see him working on some chick’s hip.

Looking up, he gives me a chin lift. “Be with you in a minute, brother.”

“No problem, man,” I say, taking a seat in one of the chairs in the waiting area by the front door.

When Gabriel is done, he walks the girl over to the reception desk so she can pay.

I look over, noticing the chick eye-fucking me while licking her lips. She’s a hot little piece—blonde hair, tight little body, big ass tits.

As she walks past me to leave, she hands me a piece of paper with her number on it. Looking up from the paper in my hand, I see Gabriel grinning at me.

“What?”

“Man, get your ass in the fuckin’ chair.”

Standing, I slip the paper in my pocket. “That was a hot piece that just left, man.”

“She’s alright, I fucked her a few months back.”

“No shit?”

“Yeah, man. That pussy’s loose as fuck and the bitch is too damn clingy. Don’t bother.”

Fuckin’ figures.

Just as Gabriel is about to start on my arm, my phone rings.

Pulling it from my pocket, I see it’s Jake. Swiping the screen, I answer, “What’s up, Prez?”

“Where are you at?” he barks.

“I’m with Gabriel, why? What’s up?”

“You two get your asses to the club now, and come straight to the basement,” He spits out before hanging up.

Standing up, I look at Gabriel. “Sounds like there’s a situation.”

We lock up the shop, before climbing on our bikes, making our way to the clubhouse.

Fifteen minutes later we’re making our way down the basement stairs. We see one of the prospects guarding the door. He gives a chin lift and lets us by. Opening the door, I see a man tied to a chair. Jake is sitting in another chair directly in front of our tied-up friend, and Quinn is leaning up against the wall on the other end of the room.

“Hey, Prez. What do we have here?”

“Caught this motherfucker snooping around our warehouse. Prospect found him trying to break in through the back door. Knocked his ass out and called me.”

“Is he talking?” I ask.

“Nope, doesn’t seem to speak any English.”

Our eyes cut over to Gabriel. This is where he comes in.

Jake stands up, moving his chair out of the way, as Gabriel steps in front of the idiot who had the nerve to fuck around on our property.

“Nombre? Name?” Gabriel asks him.

The man spits at his feet, earning him a punch to the mouth, splitting his bottom lip.

“Nombre?” he asks his name, again.

“No te estoy diciendo mierda. I’m not telling you shit,” the man spits out.

“String him up!” Jake orders.

Quinn pushes off the wall, walking over to help me. There is a large wood beam that spans the entire length of the basement about ten feet off the floor. Grabbing some rope, I toss it over the beam while Quinn grabs the now struggling man. I thread the rope through his already tied hands and walk behind him to pull until his feet barely touch the floor. Then I wrap my end of the rope around an anchor bolted to the floor.

Visibly shaking, our nameless friend is starting to realize he’s fucked with the wrong club. Gabriel comes back over after removing his cut and t-shirt. This pussy looks like he’s about to piss his pants.

Suddenly, the man shouts out. “Mi Nombre es Manuel, por favor. Please, my name is Manuel.” He starts talking in rapid-fire Spanish, back and forth with Gabriel.

“He says, Los Demonios sent him. They found out where our warehouse is and Manuel here was supposed to call them once he broke in. They promised him a cut if he did it.”

“Those mother-fuckin’ cocksuckers think they can steal from us?” Prez roars.

We buy guns from the Russians and store them in our warehouse across town. Then every few months we run them to the Canadian border, selling them to a couple of low-level Asian street gangs. That’s how the club makes a good chunk of its money.

Now we’ve got Los Demonios sniffing around our dealings. Jake looks over to Gabriel giving him the signal.

“We can’t let him live. You fuck with the club and there are no second chances. Make an example of him.”

With a nod, Gabriel unsheathes the knife he carries at his side, and in one swift move slits Manuel’s throat.

We stand there and watch the life drain from his face.

“I want his body dumped at those sons of bitches’ compound. Let this be an example as to what happens when you fuck with the Kings.” Jake rages.

“Quinn, get the prospects in here to clean this shit up. Gabriel, you’re with me. Let’s get this shit done.” I bark out.

An hour later we approach the Los Demonios clubhouse after loading Manuel’s body in the back of the van. Looks like there’s a party. We can hear loud music, and a few people are strolling around outside. Doesn’t look like they have anyone at the front gate. Stupid fucks.

We pull right up and no one even notices. I jump out and go around to the back of the van, opening the door. Gabriel comes up beside me, and together we drag the body out. We drop him to the ground, leaving him there.

Hearing a commotion, we turn to see men running from inside the clubhouse towards the front gate, guns drawn.

Stepping on the gas, we haul ass before they could get close enough. Once they see our little present, they will know exactly who they fucked with.

It’s game on motherfuckers.

I need to swing by the warehouse to check the fence that borders the property. I need to know where that bastard could have gotten through. I fire off a text to Prez, letting him know what Gabriel and I are doing.

I walk up to the front of the warehouse and see Austin, the prospect that caught that piece of shit.

“Hey, kid. Good job tonight,” I say, slapping him on the back.

“Thanks, Logan. Just glad I caught him.”

“Alright, man. Gabriel and I are going to walk the fence line to see if we can spot where he slipped through.”

Starting at the west end of the property, I start walking along the fence, and about seventy-five feet in, I see it.

Son of a bitch.

There’s a big, gaping hole in the fence, and the cutters lying on the ground. That fuckin’ idiot even left the damn evidence. Why in the fuck didn’t the sensors get tripped? That’s something I’m going to have to talk to Reid about. He keeps all our technical shit on the up and up.

The hole in the fence is an easy enough fix, so I put the prospect on it while we finish the grounds check.

After finishing up at the warehouse, Gabriel and I make our way back to the clubhouse.

I’m tired as fuck and need a drink. Walking in, I head straight for the bar. With the prospects at the warehouse and front gate tonight, Liz, one of the club girls, is behind the bar.

“Give me a beer and a shot of whiskey,” I tell her, taking a seat on the stool next to Jake.

“Got everything sorted out?”

“Yeah, Prez. It’s done.” I confirm before downing my shot.

“I had a feeling those damn Mexicans were going to give us trouble when they moved their piece of shit club to Dixon.”

“Well, now they know what they are dealing with when fuckin’ with the Kings.”

Jake stands after he finishes his beer and raps his knuckles on the bar, “I’m going home.”

“Take it easy, Prez. I’ll see you in the morning.”

No sooner do I get those words out of my mouth, is when I hear, POP, POP, POP.

Windows shatter in a spray of bullets and everybody hits the floor.

I reach into my cut and grab my gun. Looking around I see Jake and Gabriel crouched under a broken window rapidly returning fire.

I hear screaming coming from over by the hall and see Cassie, another one of the clubwhores, standing there.

“Get the fuck down,” I holler at the stupid bitch.

She drops down and crawls behind the bar with Liz. Over by the pool tables I see Bennett lying on top of Lisa, shielding her from the bullets.

Moments later, everything goes silent.

I pick myself up off the floor and run to the front door, opening it just in time to see two cars race down the street away from the clubhouse.

I look to my right and see Gabriel standing there with murder in his eyes.

“How the hell did those cocksuckers get the drop on us? Isn’t there a prospect at the goddamn gate?” I roar.

All eyes look toward the gate and see a shadowy figure lying on the ground.

“Shit!”

I take off running.

Blake looks to have been shot. “Fuck, someone get Doc.”

Bennett crouches down next to Blake looking at his wound. “Let’s get him inside, now,” he demands.

Reid races over to help carry him into the clubhouse and we lay him on one of the pool tables as Bennett comes in with his medic bag. He cuts the prospects shirt off to get a better look at what he is dealing with.

“It’s his shoulder. looks to be a clean shot. He took a pretty good blow to the head, knocking him out,” Bennett states. “The kid’s going to be fine, possibly a mild concussion but won’t know until he wakes up.”

I release a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

Looking around at all my brothers, I feel relieved that they are all okay, but as I gaze around I realize I don’t see Gabriel.

I turn to Jake. “Prez?”

He looks over at me.

“We need to go after Gabriel.”

Understanding, we rush outside and mount our bikes. We peel out of the compound in the direction of Dixon.

We only get about twenty miles down the road when I see his bike off to the side in the ditch, along with one of the cars I saw speeding away from our clubhouse earlier.

Jake and I jump from our bikes at the same time.

Gabriel is standing there with his knife in hand and breathing hard. On the ground in front of him are two dead Demonios.

Not knowing where my brother’s head is, so Jake and I wait him out.

I haven’t seen Gabriel lose control and rage out like this in some time. It’s best to wait and let him come back on his own.

We watch as he turns around. He looks from Jake to me, giving a chin lift. “Prez. Logan,” then proceeds to get on his bike, heading back home.

“That is one crazy ass motherfucker.”

Jake and I are both silent a moment before turning around to assess the big ass mess Gabriel left here on the side of the road.

“I’ll call some brothers to come clean this shit up before the cops show.”

It’s after three in the morning when I return to the clubhouse completely exhausted. The glass has been cleaned up and the windows boarded. Besides a couple of people lingering around it’s pretty quiet. I decide to stop by Blake’s room to check on him.

I owe it to him to show my gratitude. Opening his door, I see Lisa sitting in a chair next to his bed.

I’m not surprised to see her here. She’s always taking care of us.

“How’s the kid doing?” I ask.

“Bennett gave him something for the pain, so I’m sure he’ll be out for awhile. He’s okay, Logan. Go get some rest sweetie.”

“Thanks, Lisa.”

I finally make it to my room. The only thing I want right now is a shower, then bed.

I am standing under the spray of hot water, trying to relax my tense shoulders. It’s been one hell of a fuckin’ day.

After I dry off, I climb into bed. I lay here with my thoughts going a mile a minute. I can’t help but worry about what’s to come next.

I reach over into my nightstand, pulling out a joint and light it up. After taking a few tokes I’m able to relax. The only thing that puts my mind at ease right now is knowing no matter what happens tomorrow with this shit storm, my brothers always have my back.