>>> SICO <<<

 

I hear the rumbling of bikes through the honking of cars. Perfect timing. I got a message earlier that Zack, Dams, Tyler and Calix were on their way. Peeking through the window, I see four GMCs parked on Simi’s lawn, two black ones, one silver and one metallic burgundy. The colorful one is parked behind the other three. My brothers drive up and park their bikes along the side of the house.

Turning, I follow Ransom out the door and meet up with my Prez on the front lawn. He’s got Dams next to him and we all stand behind those two, forming a united front.

Car doors open as guys tumble out. The drivers stay in place but there are six guys standing in front of the two GMCs. They are all dressed in baggy jeans two sizes too big, their underwear showing like they’re setting a new trend.

Instead they look like boys who need their asses whipped and dragged back to school to make something out of their life. The passenger side door opens of the metallic burgundy SUV. I can hear Zack curse and I’m sure we all do inside our heads. Because there is no mistake…The one Pokey killed inside Orianna’s house is this guy’s brother.

They could very well be twins by the looks of it. This guy isn’t going to back off, nor is this thing ever going to be settled. He will continue to search for his brother because he’s never going to believe his brother’s left town or some shit.

The words Simi said earlier slide through my head. Pokey, Orianna, Austin…they don’t need this shit. They’ve went through a hell of a lot already and deserve to live carefree.

“I see there’s been a slight misinterpretation of the little note I left. I’m looking for the one I’ve set up this meeting for. I don’t see the chick around. Mind getting her for me?” the punk states.

Punk. I have no other words for it. He looks like he’s barely twenty years old. Bandana around his head, pants hanging low on his hips showing off his underwear that he’s tucked over his black wife beater. Same appearance as the rest of ‘em.

His hand goes to his hip and slides back the open flannel shirt, revealing the gun  tucked inside his waistband. Fucking idiot with no brains. One movement and the thing would hit the pavement with those jeans hanging low.

Looking to my right, I see Calix roll his eyes, clearly not impressed, even when all the other six guys mimic their leader’s actions.

“I’m gathering you’re looking for an ol’lady of my club. Seeing as she has no fucking business with you, you’d best run along and cut your pansy ass shit. We’re done here, or the next time you show up will be your last.” Zack’s voice is cold and even.

Zack doesn’t need an act to impress anyone, his whole appearance is a statement not to fuck with him. Or with every single one of us. We’re standing firm while those punks are bouncing on their feet, unsure what to do.

Except for two of them. Those two have their hands behind their backs and I notice who they are from their mugshots in the file Casey left back at the clubhouse. All the bad shit that went down involved those two. Even though their faces weren’t fully visible on the camera so they couldn’t be linked to a case directly, I know it’s them.

They’ve robbed gas stations and killed people in the process. Hell, one beat up an old lady in front of her house because he wanted the fruit she was carrying. I mean, what the actual fuck is wrong with these guys?

“We’re not done here. My beef is with that bitch because I know she killed my brother. Don’t fucking deny it either. I sent him out to follow up on her when we got word she might be a threat.” The punk sneers while he grabs his piece and takes a step forward.

He’s still shielded by those two idiots.

“A threat, huh, James? You saying you sent your younger brother, Jack, out to kill her?” Zack challenges.

I can’t take this shit. The punk, James, has an amused smile on his face.

“What was he going to do if she recognizes him, Jamie boy?” I add to Zack’s challenge, drawing the attention toward me.

Zack chuckles at the way I address him as Jamie boy, openly stating he’s nothing more than a punk making waves. James raises his gun and aims it at me.

“Handle it the correct way, that’s what,” he sneers.

“Okay, then…” I chuckle and take another step forward.

Nothing, absolutely nothing is funny about this. There was a baby in the room when that fucker stepped inside and attacked Orianna.

In fact. “Did your brother know the woman was pregnant when he pushed her down those stairs and punched her lights out all those months ago?”

Nothing, no emotion or a hint of care in his gaze. Only satisfaction when he lowers his gun and waves it slightly in front of him as if he’s wiping away a funny comment.

“Meh, semantics,” James states while those two idiots in front of him laugh.

Again, Simi’s words flow through my mind. I have nothing like you guys have and yet I’ve got this safe house and nothing to live for. My ol’lady is right, time to step up and show her I’m with her. Except, I’m dead set on proving her wrong about one thing. Decision made.

“Right. Well…I can say the same about me pulling the trigger and putting a bullet in your brother’s head. That’s right, you were looking in the wrong direction. Guess I need to make sure I have your attention, huh? Focus, Jamie boy. It’s me you’re after.”

Cold steel fills my palm while I raise my Glock. James’ eyes fill with fury and hatred before he can process what’s happening. Two pops equals two holes, equals two bodies dropping in front of his feet.

It takes him three breaths to realize I killed his human shield before he stumbles back and jumps in the back of the metallic burgundy, driving off at high speed. His other guys jump in their cars, screeching tires while they drive off. Guess I diverted the attention on Pokey and his family and succeeded in drawing the attention to me, and only me.

Leaving me to prove one more thing. My ol’lady might think she’s got nothing to live for, but she will soon realize she’s the only thing that keeps me tied to this world. Now we’re really going to need her safe house. Me and her, on full lockdown. Nowhere to go, no place I’d rather be, until confrontation once again prevails.