Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 47117 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47117 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
He pulled the gun out, aimed at Marco first, and fired. He wasn’t thinking, just seeing red as he thought of losing Butters. Fuck, he had it bad for her, and that was clear by his actions right now.
He was aware of shouting, but he turned and fired a shot at the guard running toward him. He ducked when he heard a gun go off and a bullet slam into one of the pillars beside him. Plaster flew around him.
He turned and aimed at Sal, fired, and even though he heard the older man grunt in pain, showing Mayhem had shot him, Sal ducked below the table. Mayhem had to get the other men in the room, make sure they were taken out.
It was only a few minutes into this that he heard and saw the front doors burst open. Fury, Dirty, Shorty, Dealer, and even the prospect Birdie ran into the restaurant. Their guns were already out, and their faces were hard masks. Fury and Dirty took out two of the guards before they even fired their guns.
Mayhem turned to face Sal, but saw he was gone, probably ducking out when he saw shit was getting bad. But just when Mayhem was going to slip around the table and see if he’d killed Marco, the kitchen doors burst open, and a guy dressed in black came out, shooting and yelling out in Italian.
Shorty shot him between the eyes, but there was a round of curses and commotion. Mayhem turned and saw Birdie on the ground, the guys crouched beside him, Dealer and Dirty scanning the room to make sure no one else came out shooting.
Mayhem wanted to go to Birdie, but he needed to make sure Marco was dead, because if not, he could come back swinging, so to speak.
He rounded the corner and saw Marco staring up at the ceiling, his lifeless eyes open and blood trickling out of the corner of his mouth.
The gunshot wound was right through his neck, and the pool of blood that was slowly growing around him had Mayhem taking a step back.
“Birdie needs a fucking doctor,” Fury shouted. “We need to get the fuck out of here.”
Mayhem moved over to the guys and saw that Birdie had been shot in the chest, his face already ashen, his eyes wide.
“Dirty and Shorty, you’ll ride with me to the hospital. I don’t want to risk our doc looking at him, not with all this blood loss.”
“What about the questions?” Shorty asked, obviously thinking the same thing Mayhem and probably the other guys had on their mind. Going to the hospital with a gunshot wound would mean questions.
The cops would have to be called because of the type of injury, and shit would probably hit the fan. But even their back alley doctor might not be equipped for this, so they wouldn’t try it.
Fury already looked enraged. Mayhem knew the president had known the prospect nearly his whole life, so this was probably a blow to him.
“Any survivors?” Fury asked as the other guys tried to pick up Birdie as easily as possible. The guy made a quiet, gurgling sound, and blood covered everyone, but they were out of the restaurant within seconds.
“Sal’s gone, but his little shit of a son is dead.”
Nate started groaning, and Mayhem turned to face Butters’s brother. He hadn’t even thought about the little shit during the hail of gunfire.
“Get up,” Mayhem said.
Nate stood, looking shaky and beat to fuck, but he was alive, and that was all that mattered.
“How hurt are you?” Mayhem put his gun at the small of his back.
“I’m fine. Just a little scuffed up.”
Mayhem nodded. “Come on, let’s get you to the clubhouse and to your sister.” He grabbed the bag of cash first, and together, they left the restaurant, on alert still, because he didn’t know where the fuck Sal went.
Hell, he might have bled out for all Mayhem knew. He had gotten a shot in on him, heard his grunt of pain, but then he was just gone.
“Things getting cleaned?” Mayhem asked, scanning the perimeter.
“Dealer’s working on the security cameras to make sure we aren’t on them.”
Mayhem knew their guns were unregistered with the serial numbers scratched off, so they couldn’t be traced back to them.
“The bodies will have to stay where they are, but we should be good in that, too.” Fury stopped and looked at Mayhem. “You touch anything? Leave any fingerprints?”
Mayhem thought back. “No.” The doors had been opened for him, the chair he sat in already pulled out. He had the bag, which would be the only thing that he’d touched. “We should be good on all fronts.”
Fury nodded in approval.
Dirty and Shorty were waiting for Fury in the parking lot, and once their president was in the back of the vehicle, they took off. When Mayhem and Nate were in the other vehicle, they waited silently for Dealer to join them.