Mason_ Inked Reapers MC(1)(58)

My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I pulled it out as we made our way up the narrow stairwell that reeked of piss and beer.



“Mason?” The voice sounded familiar, but I didn’t recognize it.



“Yeah.” I gestured to Tick to keep moving when he stopped to check on me. “Who’s this?”



“Lucas.” The voice grunted. “Where are you?”



“I don’t see how that’s your business.” I kept my pace, walking up the stairs.



He gave another grunt. “Well, look, if you’re down in Mexico trying to take care of Bernardo for his brother, don’t.” That made me stop in my tracks. Tick found the door to the apartment and was busy getting it open.



“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”



“That situation is being handled.” I didn’t like the evasive answers. Why would Julio bring us down there if he had another solution planned? Or did Jayson find out about the plan and send his own men down to take care of it for Julio, or to save Bernardo?



“Thanks for the heads up,” I spat, and clicked off the call. I wasn’t going to let the damn Disciples fuck with the plan, for all I knew they were down here trying to make the same deal with Julio. I didn’t really give a fuck anymore who got the territory or who worked with the cartel, but I wasn’t going to get myself killed for fucking this up because of some mysterious phone call.



“Who was that?” Tick popped the lock and pushed the door to the apartment open. We both stepped back as the smell of mildew and rot drifted out. “Fuck.” Tick covered his mouth and headed into the empty cell. The kitchen and living room shared the same space, and lucky us, the people who had left the place hadn’t emptied the fridge.



I pulled my t-shirt up over my nose and searched out the window that overlooked the market. We were five stories above the crowd, and Carmela had been right about the sun; it blared from behind us. I spotted Carmela. Her twisted up hair was being held up with rhinestone pins that twinkled in the sunlight. She stood at a merchant cart looking over pelts of fabric. Why would the wife of a cartel family need to shop in the crowded, dirty street market for fabric?



“There he is, just behind Carmela.” Tick pointed over my shoulder. “Let me get set up.” He slipped the bag carrying the rifle Julio had given us from his shoulder and began assembling it with the silencer.



I watched the crowd, looking over at the other buildings. Lucas said the situation was being handled. What the fuck did that mean? Was there another team out there aiming for Bernardo, too? Or did they know about the hit and Bernardo was going to hit us instead?



“Lucas said that we might want to rethink this, that the situation was being handled,” I told Tick. He paused and looked up at me.



“What the fuck does that mean?”



“I don’t know.” I looked back out the window, they were getting closer. “You know, I’m getting real fucking tired of this cryptic shit!”



“Fuck. If Julio would fuck his brother’s wife, and kill his brother, why the fuck are we trusting him that this is going to go down the way he says.” Tick growled, looking through the scope of his rifle.



I watched Bernardo and his wife make their way closer to us. Tick moved next to me, getting more comfortable in his position. A band began playing beneath us, a trio of guitar players began singing and making their way through the crowd. People clapped. An argument broke out at one of the merchant stands.



“What do you want me to do, Mason?” Tick nudged my knee with his elbow. The stifling heat of the apartment didn’t help clear up my thoughts. Sweat dripped down the side of my face.



A shot rang out, echoing through the narrow street. Bernardo fell face down over a merchant stand. Another shot, and a screaming Carmella fell slack to the ground, her mouth still agape. I looked down at Tick, who was looking back at me with just as stunned an expression as I felt. “What the fuck?” He leaned out the window, looking for the shooter.



The crowd panicked. People ran in every direction, ducking into the stores, down alleyways. “Fuck, there’s Julio.” I pointed at the lone man walking steadily down the street, as though he had no cares in the world. People flew past him, bumping him as they made their way down the street, but he just continued to walk as though nothing had just happened.



“Let’s get the hell out of here. This isn’t our fight anymore.” I tugged at Tick’s shirt. He nodded and quickly unassembled the rifle and threw it into the bag. “Just leave that here.” I kicked the bag across the room, watching it glide across the dirty floor and slide beneath the couch. Tick removed his gloves and shoved them into his back pocket. “Let’s go.”