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my feet, a shot explodes and blood splatters the pavement near the Sergeant's feet. Silver
Beard crumples to the cement like a broken doll.
An instant later, the street descends into chaos.
 Hell yeah! Beck shouts, and I damn hear shoot him in the back when he takes off
runnin', heading straight for the action.
 Son of a bitch, I growl under my breath, reaching around the corner and taking aim. I
am so sick of firefights, I could spit.  Mother fucker. Baby Jesus give me strength. I shoot
a man in the thigh when he gets close and nearly jump out of my fuckin' skin when a shot
goes off behind me. I spin to find a couple of guys behind us, holding guns and wearing
colors that I know all too well. Bested by Crows. When the shit hits the fan, it just
splatters, don't it?
I drop to my knee and miss getting shot in the face by a margin so small, it makes my
dead grandma sweat in her grave. I take aim at the first man, a guy with bright blonde hair
and a face that makes me think maybe he's related to the late Walker brothers. Good
riddance, I think as I shoot him right in the chest. No playing around. I don't like to kill,
but if it's me or them, then shit, it's going to be them.
My man drops just a split second before the other two do. I glance over at my boys with
a determined set to my lips, not quite a smile, not quite a frown.
 Don't get killed, alright? I ask, rising to my feet and swinging around the side of the
building. I hear a small chorus of yes, Pres as I move low to the ground, pausing behind
one of Seventy-seven Brothers' bikes. I keep my gun raised and pull my phone out with
my other hand, shooting off a text to Tax. He might not get it, but I ain't got a damn clue
where he is and somebody needs to know that Bested by Crows is here, too.
Beck is standing straight up, his red hair bright under the sunlight. There's a bit of
blood on his lip and a crumpled man at his feet, but otherwise he looks okay to me. I put
my phone away and sit up, looking out at a suddenly silent battleground. This doesn't
descend into hand-to-hand combat like it did in Korbin when we were fighting Seventy-
seven Brothers. Everybody but Beck has taken cover, and all I can see are bikes and
bodies.
 Where's that bitch, Margot Tempe? I hear a voice ask from the front, somebody from
our side.  She rightfully belongs to us. Hand her over and accept retribution for the
crimes committed against the Brothers. You do that, and we're gone, headed back home.
Nobody bothers to answer.
The silence stretches long and tight while we wait in tense anticipation.
I happen to glance over and find Melissa smiling at me from behind a nearby bike. I
can't even believe Tax let her out here to fight. I shake my head. What am I sayin'? Let
her? Nobody lets or doesn't let this woman do a damn thing. She goes about life as she
pleases.
 Who's askin' after my ol' lady? one of the men says, rising to his feet. He's got dark
hair and dark eyes, a goatee, and a bad case of overconfidence. He stands out in the open,
the perfect target, but nobody shoots him. There's a Code of the Road here, and I know I
ain't the only one that believes in it. They might shoot this dude in the head, but they'll
wait until after this conversation is over. Fuck my stars.
 I am.
Tax appears on the top of a nearby building. I get the impression that he's not often
seen in public. I know I'm a bit different than most MC Presidents. Usually, you don't see
the fuckers. Who puts their leader in harm's way? But my group is small, and this is how
we've always done things, so it's the way it's gonna stay. Besides, I'm not the type to sit
back and wait.
 Turn her over to us for crimes committed. I count nine of yours dead, including your
Sergeant at arms. I'll take that as retribution. Now, hand over Margot and our business is
finished here. We're done. Tax slaps his palms together, dusting them off and holding
them open wide. It seems like as fair an offer as anyone's going to get in this situation, [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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