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Round Three - Annihilation

L eaning against the porch support where I had originally started, I couldn’t help but chuckle at the irony. This fight was coming full circle. Either Diego Lopez was going to show up, or we’d have to chase him. I wasn’t looking forward to either prospect.

“Whose bet was an hour?” Cyph asked. “You’re about to win.” The brothers were back to their normal asshole selves. They’d taken bets on what time Diego would show up. It sounded like someone was going to cash in. I had picked forty-five minutes for something to do.

“They really need to get different vehicles. Black SUV with black tinted windows just drove by the first exit on the highway. If it exits at the second one, they’ll be here in less than ten.”

Sabre stood from where he had been sitting on the porch railing.

“I don’t need the peanut gallery in my ear,” he said, leaving the earpiece.

“I don’t care if they listen in, but now’s not the time to be distracted.

Keep vigilant, and hopefully in an hour, we can put this all behind us.

” Each member of the executive team nodded their head.

The men in quadrant one were still in position, but the eight of us in the front yard would be out in the open.

“They just took the back exit. Five minutes and counting,” Cyph rang through the earpiece.

Wreck had been sitting on the porch steps, but he stood, grabbed a shotgun, and walked towards the front yard.

The rest of us followed, forming a line.

Sabre was in the middle, as our president.

I stood to his right as his second, and the rest of the men filled in.

Berry and Twig were the biggest men in the club, and each one stood on the ends, rounding out our group.

Each man had picked up a shotgun, for intimidation only.

Diego was going to die by someone’s hand, and I wasn’t sure I honestly cared whose.

“They’re here,” Cyph kept running commentary from his room.

Two black SUVs emerged further down our street, but they were so slow, I didn’t think they would need to brake to make it through our gate. Each second brought them closer. All I could see was red. I no longer gave a fuck as long as Diego was dead at the end.

The first SUV rolled through the gate, heading straight towards us.

“It’s rude to hit your hosts,” Pretty muttered, as the SUV veered at the last minute, stopping inside. The second SUV did the same thing, parking directly behind the first. They wouldn’t be getting out. Cyph had already closed the gates.

The rear door of the lead SUV opened and a high-end loafer stepped into the gravel. If this was supposed to impress us, it didn’t.

The other loafer appeared, and then a man stood from the car.

Diego Lopez was older than I’d originally thought.

He was middle-aged, with silver streaks in his dark hair and mustache.

Flapping the edges of his suit coat, he tilted his chin, staring down his nose as he strolled towards our line.

The doors of the second SUV opened, and four soldiers exited, guns drawn as they flanked their boss.

Four red lasers shot out of the sky—each one was dead center on a soldier’s skull. The snipers on the roof didn’t fuck around, and Diego had led his men straight to their demise.

The first one to speak would get the edge, and Sabre would stand here as long as he needed to.

However, Diego’s eyes shifted. He was scanning the surrounding area, but each time his eyes stopped moving, he landed on one of his soldiers—dead.

His eyes bounced, frequently, and I wondered if he thought his men were going to rise and avenge him.

His posture was straight, but when he crossed his arms over his chest, he gave away his insecurities.

He had honestly thought crossing our gates meant victory.

Diego was standing in the middle of his graveyard and still thought he could negotiate our downfall. “A trade. My henchman for your lawyer.”

“The only reason you’re standing there, all smug and mighty, is because I let you,” Sabre retorted with a snort. “I could get more for your henchman on a bounty. You’re familiar with those.”

A shot rang out from the roof, hitting the ground in front of Diego.

“Hit,” I heard Op say. He’d clearly done it on purpose as a scare tactic before the red laser returned to the soldier’s head. Laughter rang out through my earpiece. The brothers could hear what was going on, even if they didn’t have a front-row seat.

The trunk of the second SUV popped open, revealing a bruised and battered Gerry.

“He’s your problem,” Diego said, his voice overly smooth.

It was hard to tell if this was the real man, or some act.

It was a mix of old-world cartel expectations and Hollywood.

Pretty hit Wreck with his elbow, trying not to laugh hysterically.

We were supposed to be serious, but this man was a joke.

“If you think we’re going to be friends because you brought Gerry to my door, you’ll be sadly mistaken,” Sabre said.

“Is he even alive? He’s not moving.” There was no love lost between Gerry and the club.

He thought we had stolen his girls from him, not taking accountability for the role he had played.

Gerry was facing us in the trunk, but his eyes were blank. He wore a white dress shirt and a pair of black pants, both soaked in filth and blood. The source was obvious. Gerry was holding his severed hand, cut at the wrist.

“Your women are going to want their father, and I want my henchman.” Diego was getting desperate.

“I’m sure people in hell want ice water, but I don’t see them getting it.”

A chuckle floated around us in the yard, and even the cartel soldiers had to hide their amusement.

“So, what is it going to take? Money?” Diego stamped his foot. “How do I even know my henchman is alive? Where is he?”

“He’s…indisposed at the moment, but he’s alive.

I don’t know why you’re so worried about a negotiation.

I didn’t offer you one, and I for sure don’t want Gerry as my consolation prize.

” Sabre crossed his arms, a smirk taking over.

He was the only one without a shotgun, so the rest of us racked the slides, being the assholes we were.

Diego jumped at the sound. It was hard to reconcile the man standing in front of us with the big, bad cartel boss we had all believed him to be.

Still, it was easy to see how he had pulled Matt and Brandon’s strings.

Diego told them what he wanted, and they jumped to make it happen, never saying no.

The Iron Shield would never yield to an enemy, and if I had known he would fold so easily, I might have planned a hostile takeover at his office building.

“Death.”

Four shots rang out, and the cartel soldiers that flanked Diego fell to the ground—dead.

“I want to do that again,” How complained.

“You’re a sick fuck. Are you sure you’re not adopted?” Op laughed.

I tuned out of their ribbing, watching Diego assess the situation he had just found himself in. The soldiers he had sent were dead in the yard. The soldiers he thought would protect him were laying at his feet.

I was watching him, and when he realized he was all alone, he reached behind him. Dropping the shotgun, I moved on instinct, not giving a fuck if I was wrong. It was better to be safe and let his suit get dirty, versus losing someone.

My knee came up, driving into his stomach, as my fist collided with his face. For the second in command of a cartel, Diego needed to learn how to fight. I had him on the ground with his hand behind his back in seconds.

“Damn, that was impressive.” Pretty slowly clapped, standing over me.

“Can you not be annoying and check him for a gun? I thought he was reaching for one.” If Pretty wanted to run his mouth, he could at least be helpful.

I shifted my weight forward, giving Pretty room to look. I could feel him flipping up the back of Diego’s suit coat, patting the man down.

“Yeah, fucker was reaching.” Pretty dangled a gun in front of Diego’s face before he threw it into the dirt.

We hadn’t checked the SUV, but the driver decided he’d had enough and took off. The gates were closed, but he rammed into them.

“Told you,” Cyph came in through my ear.

When the gates failed to open, the driver reversed, but he found himself trapped. When he backed into the second SUV, the momentum from the hit dumped Gerry onto the ground. He rolled twice, before laying in the yard face down.

“That had to hurt.” Count winced, holding his arms tight against his body.

Berry took a step in Gerry’s direction, but before he could reach him, both SUVs exploded. The yard was huge, and no one had been close enough to suffer an injury. It was just another inconvenience for the clean-up crew.

“You blew up your escape plan and still think you’re walking out of here?” I asked Diego, not really expecting an answer. He tried to spit in my direction, and I held his face deeper in the gravel as retaliation. It had to hurt.

“What do you want to do with him?” I said to Sabre, nodding towards Diego.

“Kill him.”

“I’ll call Manny.” Diego pleaded one last time. “He can make the club a deal, and you’ll be rich. Like kings.” It was the same scenario he’d given all of his soldiers to keep them under his rule. We didn’t need or want his money.

“Together.” Grace had been a target, and I would have understood if he’d taken the kill. However, there would have been a part of me that felt cheated. I flipped Diego over, and he didn’t even bother putting up a fight as I crouched over him.

Sabre pulled his knife out of his back pocket, placing the tip above Diego’s heart.

“Grace doesn’t think about Matt, so whatever your obsession with my woman was, you can take it to hell with you, knowing she won’t give you another thought.

” Sabre shoved his knife into Diego’s heart, twisting it in one smooth motion.

I pulled my knife from my boot, holding it at Diego’s throat. “I didn’t get the chance to kill Brandon. You took that away from me, but I have someone you don’t. The baby you were desperate for—mine.” I slit his throat, holding his hair until he bled out a few minutes later.

“Cyph, do you have a buyer for the henchman?” Sabre asked, knowing he could hear us.

“Of course, I do. They’ll be here in half an hour. We just have to leave him outside the gates. They’ll pick him up and leave the cash.”

“How far out is the cleaning crew?”

“Under twenty minutes, Prez.” Pint responded this time.

“Scrub?” Sabre checked. I wasn’t sure if Scrub had grabbed an earpiece or not.

“Yeah?”

“Gerry’s coming for triage. It’s bad.” Sabre and I walked over to where Gerry lay. “Do you think he’s alive?” he asked me.

“He’s too stubborn to die.” All I had to do was look at my wife to see where she got her obstinacy from.

“You can’t get rid of me,” Gerry mumbled as we stood above him. “Don’t say I didn’t help my girls. Promise me I can see my grandchildren.”

“We’ll see. You need medical help,” I told him.

“I’ll handle it,” Scrub said, listening in. No one doubted he would do his best to keep Gerry alive. Berry picked Gerry up as he was and took him inside the clubhouse.

“I want this place cleaned up within two hours. The women have been in the vault long enough, and truthfully, I want this behind us.”

There was a chorus of agreement coming through the earpiece. This round of cartel bullshit was officially over.