Page 54

I slow down as we pass in front of the bar. The windows are blacked out, so there’s no way to see how many people are inside. There isn’t anyone lingering on the sidewalk in front of the building.
“Maybe they are around back or inside.” Gage says from the passenger seat.
“Maybe. Or maybe they were tipped off.”
If they were tipped off, heads will roll. I’m not tolerating traitors.
I park a block away from the bar in a diner’s parking lot. The cook is outside smoking a cigarette. His eyes widen as I hand him a couple of hundred-dollar bills.
“Make sure no one fucks with my car. If they do, I’m coming straight for you, and trust me when I say that I will hunt you down, so don’t run off. I’ll be back within the hour.”
He glances down at the money in his hand before looking at me and then Gage. “Yes, sir. I will keep your car safe.”
When we are down the street, Gage laughs. “I’m pretty sure the kid thought you were pranking him. You give him money and then threaten to hunt him down.”
“Yeah, well, he better keep my car safe because we need a way home.”
We get to the bar and walk up to the solid wooden door.
“Oh, I forgot to ask, are you carrying?”
“A gun? No. Why would I be? You said a bar fight, not a shootout.”
I give him my back up gun. “Sometimes, they are one and the same, but we’re going to try to stick to our fists.”
He tucks the gun into his waistband and gives me a nod. “Let’s do this.”
Not bothering to turn the doorknob, Gage rears back and kicks open the door. It breaks the door frame, rips the hinges off, and splinters into pieces.
“Effective.” I push past the broken door and step inside.
All conversation stops as everyone turns to look our way. There are only a handful of people lingering around the bar.
A couple of men are playing pool and a couple are throwing darts, but it’s not full of Reapers, like the informant made it seem.
In the back corner of the bar, away from all the action, there are two Reapers dressed in all black. Their bright green eyes and the fact that they are wearing ski masks inside give them away.
“Is that them?” Gage whispers.
“Let’s find out.”
I clench my jaw and head straight toward them.
The two men stand as Gage and I get closer. Gage cracks his knuckles, a clear sign that he’s looking forward to the fight just as much as I am. The two Reapers put down their bottles of beer and walk toward the middle of the bar.
Gage doesn’t wait. He marches over to them and throws the first punch. Both men swing at Gage, landing one punch to his side and another on his stomach.
I pull one man off of Gage and throw my fist at his face. I put everything I have into this punch. My fist connects with his jaw in a loud crunch. If his jaw isn’t broken, it’s a miracle.
He lands a punch on my stomach and my cheek, but I retaliate and land two on his stomach. When he hunches forward, I drive my fist up to his mouth.
He spits at me, his blood lands on my shirt.
“Fucking asshole.” I grab the front of his shirt with one hand and reach up to grab his ski mask with my other hand.
Someone clears their throat behind me. Before yelling, “Hey, Marino!”
The four of us stop fighting just long enough to turn around and see who it is. Three more Reapers are standing behind us with their arms crossed and pissed expressions on their faces.