Repair My Life (Nasty Bastards MC Book 6) by Hayley Faiman

Author:Hayley Faiman [Faiman, Hayley]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hayley Faiman Books, LLC
Published: 2022-08-25T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

IRONFIST

War.

It’s fucking brutal. With my men at my side, I look from left to right and then nod as we all lift our boots as we kick the doors. They don’t open immediately, not that we thought they would. But it gives the men on the other side a bit of a jump.

So, we all pull out our guns and shoot the fucking locks off. Then kick the doors again, almost simultaneously. There is a moment of silence before the mayhem starts.

The smoke is thick, we literally have a fucking shoot-out like we’re at the goddamn OK Corral. Something burns in the front of my shoulder, but I don’t stop. There is a man with his back against the wall. There are four men to a room, and three are dead as goddamn doornails.

Tilting my head to the side, I look at this man. I take him in. He’s crying. Crouching down in front of him, I notice that he’s pissed himself. I feel wetness trickle down my arm, and I look down to see that there’s a hole in my cut, a fucking bullet hole.

Great.

“Wanna tell us what the fucking plan is?” I growl.

There are still a few gunshots happening in the rooms around us, then they all stop. I can hear people walking around, hopefully all our men and none of the LA Mafia’s men. I continue to stare at this fuck, knowing that the police will not be joining us anytime soon.

“You think I know anything?” he says on a whimper.

Sliding my tongue along my bottom lip, I watch him for a long moment. “You know what you were supposed to do here and what comes next.”

He’s trembling, I can physically see his body shaking where he’s sitting. Waiting for him to say something, I don’t move. I wait. He is going to give me fucking something. When he doesn’t right away, I lift my hand that’s not bleeding and, holding the gun, press the hot barrel against his forehead.

He cries out, though I highly doubt that it’s in pain, more likely it’s in fear. The fucking pussy. He smells like piss and terror.

“We were supposed to come in and kill the men at the Nasty Bastards MC. Then we could do what we wanted with the women before we killed them,” he whimpers.

I almost kill him right there on the spot. The other men behind me let out growls. “And the other MCs? I know whoever your man is in charge, that he knows we have more than just our main MC.”

He shifts his attention to the side, then brings it back to meet mine. Even with the pissed pants and the whimpering and trembling, the fuck tries to act tough. It doesn’t work. Instead, I laugh as I press the barrel of the gun harder against his forehead.

“Yours was to set the example. The others would fall in line.”

He’s probably not wrong on that shit. They might do that. As much as I would hope they wouldn’t, they probably would.

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