We cleaned up and went down to get breakfast with Caleb. She started cooking eggs and bacon on the stove while I fed the kid, making those rocket sounds that made him laugh every time I spooned food into his hungry little lips.
Then my phone lit up next to me, buzzing on the table. I swore, picked it up, and cursed a second time when I saw Brass' number.
“What's going on, brother?”
“Get your ass down to the Jennings' place now. There's been an incident.”
“Fuck.” I stood up, shoved the chair away, hoping Sally hadn't heard her family name dropped. “What the hell happened? Cartel?”
“Two guys down. One of ours. They got that stubborn bastard, Norm, too. He's fucked up real bad. The ambulance just picked him up, and the Prez'll be by shortly to deal with our contacts in the Redding PD to keep this shit quiet.”
“Sonofabitch. I'm on my way.” I was about to hang up when I thought about my girl. She deserved to know about her cousin. “Wait, is it safe to bring my old lady?”
Brass paused. “It's daytime. They won't have the balls to show their faces here for a repeat, especially while the cops are swarming in. Come on, brother, move your ass.”
The line went dead. Sally stopped cooking and she was at my side, her face creased up with fear.
“We gotta go, babe. I'll talk to Christa or Missy to see about somebody watching Caleb. Your cousin's hurt.”
“What?! Norman?” Hot tears exploded in her eyes. “Idiot. I told him to get out while the going was good! I tried.”
The anger melted, and she clutched at my arm. “Is it bad?”
“Dunno. Come on. We gotta fucking move.”
Stryker sat next to Asphalt on the farmhouse porch, a torn shirt wrapped around his bicep. The blood seeped through it like dark crimson paint, and I saw equal fucking red every time I looked around the small war zone around us.
Glass blown out all through the kitchen, spilling into the garden out back. Some fucker had taken out the windows, blasted an automatic straight up the side of the house. I wasn't sure where the hell Sally used to keep our son, but thinking it could've been him in there, waiting to get cut to pieces by some asshole's fire, filled me with a special rage.
“Spit it out. What the hell did you guys see?”
“I just got back from making the rounds,” Asphalt said, tensing up. “Stryker and Beam were supposed to be watching the house. No sooner than I stepped off my bike, parking it out back by the barn, the truck tore in and lit the place up. I hit the ground and drew. Started firing at the windshield. I put a couple holes through their glass, but I don't think I hit any of the motherfuckers. They whipped the truck around and screamed outta there before anybody could blow their tires.”
“And that's how you ended up with a bullet in your arm?” I looked at Stryker.
He nodded. His eyes were wide, as if he was still processing the shock. The boy looked too damned nervous for my liking, but sometimes new brothers were like this when they saw their own blood hit the floor for the first time.
“They got inside. Don't know how, maybe some sneaky fucks on foot, maybe another vehicle. I heard Norm screaming downstairs, went running to back him up. Next thing I know, the windows exploded. Some cartel SOB kicked the back door open and sent hell my way. If I hadn't moved fast enough, I would've caught this shit in the chest.” He pounded himself on the heart with his fist.
Lucky man. Too fucking lucky for my liking. I folded my arms, staring them both down.
Asphalt would never screw us over. As for our new additions – and where the fuck was Beam, anyway? – I wasn't so sure.
“Rest up, brother. I'm going in to survey the scene.” I walked in and found Sally already inside.
She stood in the kitchen, staring at the mess, two bloody streaks on the floor left behind by Stryker catching lead on his way to the basement. Her big blue eyes looked up at me, and then she turned, heading for the downstairs door.
I caught up and grabbed her wrist, spinning her against my chest. “Don't. I'm going down first to make sure it's all clear. It's my job. Prez said it's fucking gruesome. Stay the hell up here unless you wanna see your cousin's dried blood too.”
I didn't mention the busted teeth scattered on the ground. Men had definitely gotten into the house, and they'd surprised the stubborn farmer, pistol whipping him into a coma, or maybe using something bigger and heavier than a gun.
“You're right,” she snapped. “I need to be with him. How much longer?”
“I'll take a quick peek downstairs, and then we'll head to the hospital.”
I ripped open the door and pounded down the narrow stone steps, ducking as I made my way into the hole in the ground that doubled as a laundry room and storm shelter. Scattered light poured through the crack in the storm door to the side. The basement's lone light bulb was smashed in the commotion.