tell Mambo and go with him in the van to pick the body up, and
make sure there was nothing left for the women to find the next day.
Once he heard what they had done, War ripped open the shirts of Prowler, and
Grinder’s victim. He pulled his blade from the side of his boot and traced the tip from
Drake’s lower abdomen, to his neck. “You have a problem here, motherfucker. You
see both of those women at that bar in town happen to be special to me. One of them
in particular. Call me old school, but I protect what I consider mine.” He stabbed the
blade deep into the soft tissue of the fucker’s underbelly, and proceeded to saw the
blade sideways through muscle and guts. The stench was unbelievable, but it didn’t
stop the rage inside of War as he thought of River finding a dead body in the bar. The
poor woman would be hysterical, and he’d be damn lucky if she spoke to him again, or
any brother for that matter.
“You might as wel enjoy this if you can, especial y when your guts start fal ing into
your face, it’s gonna be a lot more painful before I let you die.” The fucker was silently
screaming as War cut straight down from underbelly to the bottom of his ribcage. The
intestines and organs flopped out and down his chest, but the man was unresponsive.
He might be breathing, but he was as good as dead. War stepped back and reached
into one of the buckets of icy water to rinse the gore from his blade, wiped it on his pant
leg and re-sheathed it. Then he picked up the bucket and slowly poured the water over
the open space now visible for all to see.
Race glared at War, the fucker had taken his idea and improved on it with the T cut,
but stil . Fuck. How was he supposed to… Fuck it . He was the prez, he could do what
he damned well felt like doing. He took his own blade and approached Prowler. “You
hear what happens when you plan a coup like you did? We live by honor, loyalty, trust,
our code, fuck with one, you fucked with all of us. You knew the consequences, and
you lost.” He stabbed the tip of his blade in each of Prowler’s eyes, and slit his throat as
he hung screaming.
The last two men to die were luckier than the rest. Stabs to the heart, and one to
the carotid artery were the worst of their wounds, but the men that did the deed hadn’t
balked or tried to get out of the task before them. They knew it was a test, and they
knew that their days were numbered if they hadn’t stepped up. Personal feelings aside,
this was business and they treated it as such.
Race and the three Presidents went back to the clubhouse to warm up and make
appearances in case they had been missed.
Bam had left the warehouse and enlisted Pete and Flats to help with the bikes.
They removed all personal affects and the vin plates from the nicest three scoots, and
Glimmer’s bagger, before they replaced them with similar, but definitely inferior bikes,
JK Publishing, Inc.
Starting Over by Ryder Dane
and loaded the steel on a flatbed with ten gallons of gasoline and kerosene. The tragic
accident would be a devastating loss to the Breed when they were found at the bottom
of the drop off. It could take weeks to determine identities and causes of death. In the
inclement weather, rescue efforts would be hindered, but they had to hurry if they
wanted to make it appear to be a legitimate accident.
Four men stood catching their breaths as they looked down the snow covered iced
drop off. They were waiting for Bam to jerk on the rope for them to haul his big ass
back up the steep incline. He was arranging the bodies in the right spots so they would
get maximum exposure to the fire already licking through Prowler’s Kerosene soaked
body and clothing. The full gas tanks with the open petcocks would catch soon too, so
he made sure to arrange the bodies over the bikes before soaking them with the
gasoline.
He shook his head and said a brief prayer before grabbing the plastic jugs in one
hand and
make sure there was nothing left for the women to find the next day.
Once he heard what they had done, War ripped open the shirts of Prowler, and
Grinder’s victim. He pulled his blade from the side of his boot and traced the tip from
Drake’s lower abdomen, to his neck. “You have a problem here, motherfucker. You
see both of those women at that bar in town happen to be special to me. One of them
in particular. Call me old school, but I protect what I consider mine.” He stabbed the
blade deep into the soft tissue of the fucker’s underbelly, and proceeded to saw the
blade sideways through muscle and guts. The stench was unbelievable, but it didn’t
stop the rage inside of War as he thought of River finding a dead body in the bar. The
poor woman would be hysterical, and he’d be damn lucky if she spoke to him again, or
any brother for that matter.
“You might as wel enjoy this if you can, especial y when your guts start fal ing into
your face, it’s gonna be a lot more painful before I let you die.” The fucker was silently
screaming as War cut straight down from underbelly to the bottom of his ribcage. The
intestines and organs flopped out and down his chest, but the man was unresponsive.
He might be breathing, but he was as good as dead. War stepped back and reached
into one of the buckets of icy water to rinse the gore from his blade, wiped it on his pant
leg and re-sheathed it. Then he picked up the bucket and slowly poured the water over
the open space now visible for all to see.
Race glared at War, the fucker had taken his idea and improved on it with the T cut,
but stil . Fuck. How was he supposed to… Fuck it . He was the prez, he could do what
he damned well felt like doing. He took his own blade and approached Prowler. “You
hear what happens when you plan a coup like you did? We live by honor, loyalty, trust,
our code, fuck with one, you fucked with all of us. You knew the consequences, and
you lost.” He stabbed the tip of his blade in each of Prowler’s eyes, and slit his throat as
he hung screaming.
The last two men to die were luckier than the rest. Stabs to the heart, and one to
the carotid artery were the worst of their wounds, but the men that did the deed hadn’t
balked or tried to get out of the task before them. They knew it was a test, and they
knew that their days were numbered if they hadn’t stepped up. Personal feelings aside,
this was business and they treated it as such.
Race and the three Presidents went back to the clubhouse to warm up and make
appearances in case they had been missed.
Bam had left the warehouse and enlisted Pete and Flats to help with the bikes.
They removed all personal affects and the vin plates from the nicest three scoots, and
Glimmer’s bagger, before they replaced them with similar, but definitely inferior bikes,
JK Publishing, Inc.
Starting Over by Ryder Dane
and loaded the steel on a flatbed with ten gallons of gasoline and kerosene. The tragic
accident would be a devastating loss to the Breed when they were found at the bottom
of the drop off. It could take weeks to determine identities and causes of death. In the
inclement weather, rescue efforts would be hindered, but they had to hurry if they
wanted to make it appear to be a legitimate accident.
Four men stood catching their breaths as they looked down the snow covered iced
drop off. They were waiting for Bam to jerk on the rope for them to haul his big ass
back up the steep incline. He was arranging the bodies in the right spots so they would
get maximum exposure to the fire already licking through Prowler’s Kerosene soaked
body and clothing. The full gas tanks with the open petcocks would catch soon too, so
he made sure to arrange the bodies over the bikes before soaking them with the
gasoline.
He shook his head and said a brief prayer before grabbing the plastic jugs in one
hand and
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