Page 85 of Chains
Beads of perspiration rolled down the stocky man’s face. “I think I’m going to be sick,” he groaned as he bent over.
The light caught the shine of a gun as Eric took it out from under his jacket. Suddenly the two other men whipped out their weapons as well.
“It’s war!” Paco said in the remote before throwing it down on the duffel bag.
Four burly men busted through the front door, and Chains noticed that they wore the colors of the Pueblo, Colorado, gang, Los Malos. Outside, the sound of gunfire punctured the silence of the night.
“You fuckin’ asshole! You’re dead,” Chains yelled to Eric.
The bikers dropped to their bellies and slithered out of the room while Muerto, Goldie, and Aztec had their backs. When Chains saw Eric slip out the front door, rage burned through him.
“The fucker’s trying to leave. I’m gonna get him. You okay without me?” Chains asked Paco as bullets lanced in the air around them.
“Go get him!”
The rounds of ammunition flying around the house sounded like a war zone. Shotgun and Tats were running toward the front door, while Crow and Brick had guns pulled as they grabbed three guys out of one of the SUVs. Chains saw several downed Malos writhing on the ground, their weapons nowhere to be seen.
Dust scattered beneath Chains’s boots as he ran toward his brothers. He saw Eric point a gun at Eagle. Chains’s heart raced and his breath quickened.
“No! Eagle drop down—the fucker’s got a gun on you!” Chains screamed, but it was too late. The first bullet hit the biker in the chest. Eagle looked up, surprised, then the next bullet hit him, and he crumpled down to the ground.
“Eagle! Fuck!” Chains yelled.
Eric then aimed at Crow, and with the strength of a panther, Chains leaped and fell on top of the asshole, knocking the gun out of his hand. Eric bucked and pushed up, but Chains backed him against the door of a silver SUV.
He grabbed the front of Eric’s polo shirt and slammed him against the car door several times while screaming, “Brother down!”
Eric tried to kick Chains, but the biker hit him in the groin—hard. The man’s breath rushed between his lips in awhooshof spent air.
“You fuckin’ double-crosser,” Chains gritted.
“I… I got the money!” Sputtering and panting, Eric gasped for air. “I was going to get it—I swear.”
“You shot a brother, motherfucker! Abrother!”
“I thought he was going to kill me. It was self-defense.”
“Fuckin’ liar! You ambushed him—he didn’t even see you.”
From the corner of his eye, Chains saw several brothers rushing out from the adobe, after that it started raining bullets.
Eric pushed against Chains, and the biker loosened his grip, letting the scum think he was getting away. All around him was a downpour of gunfire, and bodies hit the ground with athud. Bikers and gangsters ran in every direction in a storm of movement and noise.
Chains grabbed Eric by the neck and pulled him back, then pounded his head against the car window, shattering it.
“I have the money,” he said, his voice high and thin with panic.
The image of Eagle—one of his best friends—getting shot by this fucker filled Chains’s mind. He stepped back, aimed the gun at Eric, and pulled the trigger. Eric’s eyes widened as he grabbed his belly. Blood squeezed through his fingers as he took a few stumbled steps, then collapsed on the cold, hard ground. The red pool underneath the downed man’s body slowly spread around him.
Chains heard an engine start up and saw one of the SUVs hauling ass out of there. Paco, Diablo, and Knuckles chased after it, shooting at the tires. Chains dashed over to Eagle and saw that his eyes were closed and his chest was slowly moving up and down.
“Eagle!” Chains caught his friend’s face between his fingers and shook it hard. “Look at me, bro.”
Eagle’s eyes fluttered open, and he stared vacantly at Chains.
“Don’t fuckin’ die on me. This isn’t your time. Stay with me, bro.” He kept lightly patting his face.
“How bad is he?” Paco asked.
