Tate

Crip was sitting on his motorcycle at the far end of the shop. With his hands draped over the handlebars and his head hanging low, it seemed something was deeply troubling him.

I rolled to a stop and shut off the engine. “Where is everyone?”

He cocked his head to the side and looked at me. “Out dicking around. Smoke’s got another job in La Jolla. Cholo’s with him. Pee Bee hasn’t made it in yet, and who knows where P-Nut is.”

I hung my helmet on the bars and got off the bike. As I walked toward the fridge, he began to chastise me for my recent absence.

“Speaking of someone’s whereabouts, where the fuck you been lately? Since you got out, you’ve been pretty God damned scarce.”

“Just been trying to make ends meet after paying that fucking attorney thirty grand.”

He coughed a sarcastic laugh. “Editing your ass off, huh?”

I grabbed a beer. “Yeah. Something like that.” I glanced over my shoulder. “Want one?”

“Appreciate it.”

I reached for another beer and turned around. He got off his bike, walked to the work bench, and leaned against it. Using the toe of his boot, he kicked black scuff marks onto the surface of the concrete floor.

“So, what the hell’s going on?” I asked.

He looked up.

I handed him a beer and then took a drink of mine. “You look like someone shit in your aquarium.”

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and then gave me his typical stern glare. “We’ve got a little problem.”

“From the look on your face, I’m going to guess it’s not little. Satan’s Savages causing problems again?”

“Shit.” He took another drink. “I wish it was that simple.”

“Never ran into anything yet that we couldn’t fix.”

“I’m not saying we can’t fix it. I’m saying it’s going to be a pain in the ass. I can assure you of that.”

“Care to elaborate?”

He nodded his head toward the shop door. “Notice that new paint on the front of the building?”

“Didn’t notice it. Smelled it when I came in, though. I wondered what you fuckers have been painting.”

“MS-13 tagged this fucking building. Cocksuckers have been going around tagging shit and claiming it. When the owners don’t give it up, they slaughter ‘em and take it. Then, they post up in it selling dope until they get run off. Their name isn’t on the lease, so they just leave and start fresh somewhere else.”

Southern California was littered with gangs, but none were as ruthless as MS-13. Basically, the Mexican drug cartels had sent their hitmen to Southern California to sell drugs and kill anyone who opposed them, women and children included. They were fearless and lived by no moral code.

My eyes slowly widened. “They’re heavy hitters. We sure this wasn’t just some kids dicking around?”

“That fucking cop that told us Tank was an ATF agent? The same prick that arrested me? Well, that asshole came by here while we were getting ready to paint over the graffiti, and he told us about MS-13 tagging places from Chula Vista to LA. Said if we didn’t move out, they’d slaughter us and our families just like they have in other cities.”

The MC had several members that talked a lot and did very little. There were also members that talked very little and were quick to volunteer to do the club’s dirty work.

I was one of those people.

I wasn’t about to sit back and let MS-13 – or anyone for that matter – threated the club, the men in it, or the families of the men I considered to be my brothers. “These are the same cocksuckers that kidnapped Cholo?”

He tilted the neck of his beer bottle toward me and gave a nod. “Same bunch.”

“We need to make a bold statement on this one, Boss.”

He exhaled heavily. “I’m well aware.”

“Whatever it is, I’m in.”

“I’m not asking you to be in on this, Meat. Hell, you just got out of jail. I’m just explaining--”

“Any time we’ve had to make a stand, I’ve volunteered,” I said boldly. “Why in the fuck would you think for one minute that I wouldn’t do so now?”

I took offense to his statement. I’d been involved in the club’s dirty work since earning my patch ten years prior. The only to two members who had more time in the club than me were Pee Bee and Crip.

“I didn’t say you wouldn’t. I said I didn’t expect you to.”

“Well, prepare for a fucking surprise, then. I’m in on this deal.”

“I’m planning on taking out however many of these pricks we can find, Meat. There’s a place over by the old ball diamond that they’re supposed to be using as a dope house. We’re going in, killing every last one of them, and beatin’ feet. I can’t have these pricks threatening my men.”

I finished my beer and then spread my arms wide. “I’m in.”

“Appreciate ya.”

“How many of them?”

“From what I hear, about ten.”

“How many of us going?”

“The six of us, plus whoever else will volunteer.”

“You going to be calling a meeting about this?”

“Was planning on having it tonight,” he said. “I was going to call that shitty little flip phone of yours and let you know.”

“I hate thinking you were going to do this deal without me.”

“I wasn’t,” he said. “I was going to give you a ring. No shit. You and about sixteen other motherfuckers.”

“Like I said. I’m in.”

“I’ll count on it, then. I’m sure we’ll have plenty of volunteers. We always do.”

I didn’t care who else was coming in on the raid of the dope house. All that mattered was that I was there, and that I was one of the first men through the door. “You know damned good and well that this is the only family I’ve got. Can’t have people threatening my family, Crip.”

“I’m well aware, Brother.” He slapped his hand against my shoulder. “Appreciate ya.”

There was no doubt we’d be met with force in the raid. MS-13’s men would be up all night, high on dope. Catching them sleeping wouldn’t be an option, regardless of what time of day we chose to go.

There was one thing I needed to get resolved before we went. I tossed my empty beer bottle in the trash and turned to face Crip. “Let me know what time the meeting is. I’ve got to get something done before we go. If I don’t answer, just tell me what time I need to be here.”

“Everything okay?”

“Just have to finish a job I started. Just in case I don’t make it back.”

He folded his arms over his chest and clenched his jaw tight. “We’ll make it back.”

I’d researched MS-13’s activities for some of the books I’d written. I knew any encounter with them would be a blood bath. Keeping that bloodbath one-sided would be near impossible.

“Appreciate the nod of reassurance. I know who the MS-13 is, brother. This isn’t going to be a fucking picnic. Let me get this thing knocked out, and a few things in order, and then I’m in.”

“Do what you need to do.” He said with a nod. “When we go to take care of these motherfuckers, I’ll do what I need to do to make sure we all make it home.”

If there was a man in our midst that could make that promise, Crip would be that man. A former Navy SEAL who wouldn’t hesitate to put his life on the line to save the lives of the men he loved, Crip was much more to me than a president.

He was not only one of my best friends, he was my older brother, and my mentor.

I slapped my hand against his back as we embraced in a hug. “Appreciate it.”

As we broke the embrace, he looked me over. “Glad your back, Brother.”

My focus had been elsewhere for the few weeks that I’d been out of prison. I worked best under pressure, and now that I had no alternative but to finish writing the book, I’d certainly do just that.

Being done with it would leave me with no further obligation other than taking care of the family I’d sworn an oath to be loyal to.

As my mind raced with the thoughts and activities of the characters in the book, I sauntered to my bike. After I lifted my leg over the seat and sat down, I reached for my helmet, and then met Crip’s gaze.

“Filthy Fucker Forever.”

He lifted his chin slightly. “Forever Filthy Fuckers.”