I hear a loud grunt of pain, then clanging of the metal table. My attention jerks up to see Bell’s taken a hit. He’s not as lucky as I am. Blood blooms from his chest, the crimson color overtaking the pale gray t-shirt he’s wearing.
I help Diesel drag him to the ground. Sabre is in position and fires back. The few occupants in the diner are screaming and crying, hiding under their tables. The waitress that Diesel has his eye on is huddled to the side of the bar looking panicked. We drag Bell over to her. Diesel grabs her apron roughly, ripping it from her body. She screams. He ignores it.
“Hold this to his chest to stop the bleeding,” he commands. “Do you have a fucking cellphone?”
“W-What? Yes,” she answers, instantly pressing the wadded fabric to Bell’s chest.
“Call 9-1-1. Tell the dispatcher to tell a Detective Grady that Diesel said he’s going to want to be here.”
“What? Why wouldn’t—”
“Just fucking do it!” Diesel yells as a bullet wizzes by his head and he pulls away from the woman and his buddy.
I’m shooting now too, but we’re basically shooting blind because I can’t tell where the fucking bullets are coming from. There are a few close up, but the ones hitting in here are snipers.
Sirens ring in the distance. I doubt it has anything to do with the waitress’s call; there’s not been enough time. I watch as I see two more of my men fall down. I scream. I can’t tell who they are—there’s just dust and chaos out there. I see their jackets as they fall. I’m going to kill the fucking Donahues. There’s not a doubt in my mind that this is their doing. This is their strike back. Fuck. I should have had more men watching the mountains. This is on me. Why didn’t I even think about snipers?
Fucking hell.
I rake my hand down the side of my face. Carnage. It’s everywhere. There’s no other word for it. Fifteen dead in total. Three of my own. Prospects with the exception of K-Rex. He was a good man. A man who had barely begun to live… and he’s gone. Diesel lost his Vice President Bell and five other men. I feel the weight of their deaths, too. The rest of the casualties were civilians. Innocent bystanders who walked into the diner for lunch and will never leave. Their blood is on my hands, too.
“Boss?” Torch asks, worried. I pull my eyes away from the county coroners and paramedics who are covering bodies with sheets while the cops interview witnesses.
“Yeah?” I ask, my voice hoarse. I’m feeling fucking old.
“You going to let them look at your arm?”
I glance at my shoulder, the white cloth tied around it soaked in blood. I had forgotten it. It doesn’t matter. It’s nothing compared to what my men took, compared to the lives lost.
“Nah. I’ll get our man to stitch it up when we get back home,” I tell him, clearing my throat. My eyes can’t stop going back to all of the chaos in front of me.
“We’re coming with you,” Diesel growls. I turn to look at him. I can see the fury in him. He’s normally easygoing, reminding me more of Torch. Now he looks ready to kill everyone in his sight.
“I think this war has cost you enough, brother. I didn’t mean for—”
“Fuck that shit. You know what it means when we go to war. We live this fucking life for a reason. We’re the men our forefathers envisioned for this country. Not the watered-down bureaucrats who run it now.”
“I should have thought about snipers. This is on me. The Donahue’s calling card has always been ‘go big’. I had our men monitoring for bombs and toxins. Jesus.”
“Colin’s calling card is bombs, ese. This Redmond is different. All bets are off.”
“We’re going to need more intel on him, Torch,” I order, feeling old and tired. I want blood as much as Diesel does. I’m fucking wondering how many are going to die before we’re done here. “You sure about this, hermano?” I ask Diesel.
“We’re at war and we band together. I’m going to need a couple of hours to see to my men and have their bodies sent home.”
“Same here. You got a cage Pistol and Keys can use for transport?”
“Yeah. Got you covered. My connection with the state police and the sheriff’s office are running interference, too. You should be good to go.”
“I’m not sure it’s going to be easy to get the bodies right now, Skull. No matter what Diesel says. Besides, he was the one who picked this damn place. Perimeters should have been more secure,” Pistol says.
“Make it easy. Grease the wheels, use your charm if you have any, or fucking guns. I don’t care, I just want my men home.” My hand goes to Diesel to hold him back. He growls at Pistol, shooting him a look that could kill.