21.

1.4K 63 0
                                    


Hunter

"......78, 79, 80, 81, 82, 83." My eyebrows are furrowed, confusion bubbling in my brain as to why Bobby Nitro has stopped counting. "83 altogether." He confirms.

That can't be right.

"Should be 85 Bobby, count again." I instruct. Luke's eyes land on me as well as everyone else's, the same look of confusion pronounced in their gazes. "Count it again." I repeat.

The nightly watch had been successful and turns out the whole Mighty Fives knowing where our weapons cache was stored was just another rumor. Honestly no one is stupid enough to attack the Devil's Sons in their own home, that is simply a death wish.

Our delivery to the Yardie boys was today and so I needed to take the inventory of weapons we were supplying them. I'm hundred percent sure that Drozdov had sent over 45 AK 47's, 15 semi automatic pistols, 15 Beretta 92's, and 10 Glock 17's all together making 85 weapons scheduled for this delivery.

".....80, 81, 82, 83. Same as before brother." Luke turns to me in an instant, looking to me to explain the situation. Anything weapons, delivery, orders, and scheduling were my area of expertise unless needed elsewhere by the club, so any hiccup with that and it was on me to fix it. "We're missing one Ak and a semi." Right, as if I couldn't tell.

"Bullshit." I kick the table hard before walking out of the warehouse, I needed a smoke asap. The crisp humid air hits me as I rest against the side of the building, pulling out a pack from my pocket and a lighter too. Everything around me fades away as I relocate into my mind.

Only one person has been acting different and shady the past couple of weeks now, only the same person wasn't present in that room moments ago. The same person is practically my brother. The same person has lied to my face not once not twice, but multiple times in these same weeks. The same person was speaking to the ADA and now this incident.

What am I supposed to think?

"Got an extra one?" I don't need to turn around to know it's Luke talking. I pull out another stick and  hand it over to him alongside the lighter. "Ten years as president of D.S. Stocker, the birthplace of the Devil's Sons." He takes a pause to light up the stick before continuing. "Never have the Russians made a mistake as such, you think they'll start now?"

Both of us knew how rhetorical that question was.

The Russians were all about their money, this is after all only business. Drozdov sent over 85 weapons and I confirmed it, father always said- never trust a man who can't get drunk. Those weapons were taken right here in the warehouse.

"Capitan is rounding up all the prospects and newly patched in members since they took watch." I turn to look at him instantly, bells going off in my head.

"Those weapons would be found and returned by the time he's done with them." I certainly don't doubt that. The guy was a hitman for the cartel, he knows the fastest and slowest ways to remove a nail from the nail bed.

"It wasn't JJ." I find myself replying to the retreating man.

"Yeah well I'm gonna need more than your word to let him go." I inwardly kick myself in the shin, of course what did I think would happen?

"Bruiser!"

He yells to get my attention, I turn my focus to him. "I said we're in lockdown mode." I mumble a quick reply before getting on the appropriate lockdown protocol. Every member of the M.C was to report to the warehouse during a lockdown.

********************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

Gore wasn't really my thing, triggers memories I wish I didn't have. Hence me taking the liberty to stay outside the inner room with the other club members.

Capitan, Luke, HOD, the prospects, and the newly patched in members have been inside the inner room for almost two hours and thirty minutes now. The atmosphere is eerily quiet and Luke had been feeding me the breakdown of everything going on in there. Although I have a pretty good idea of the process, seeing as my dad was the former president.

No one was talking, according to Luke some of the prospects were already crying just from the sight of the tools on the table. As of now, they'd tried the uncomfortable silence technique were everyone just stares at each other and guilt makes you blurt stuff out, yeah it didn't work. They've tried reverse psychology where they make you think they know and you stupidly hang yourself with your own noose. Also didn't work.

Luke was getting frustrated, Capitan was getting agitated, and the rest of the members were getting impatient. The whole situation was a train wreck.

Upon that, even with the lockdown measure in place, you can guess who didn't show up.

If both those techniques didn't work, the next thing usually is the faux Russian roulette technique.

I glance at the clock and it's mid afternoon at the moment. Actually still in time for weapons delivery if I set out now, with two weapons missing I doubt it's a good idea to leave the rest in here.

I head straight for the door of the inner room and with a quick knock, I'm let in. "I'm gonna make the delivery of the stock we have right now to the Yardie Boys, it makes much more sense at the moment." Luke seems to mull over it for some seconds, even though I know it's nothing to think about. It's the logical thing to do.

"Take Bobby Nitro and O'Reilly with you." Right before the door closes, intense green eyes focus on me directly, however the brightness usually in them is replaced by a dullness that I'm not used to.

Smack! the door closes.

I'm a little besides myself all through the loading process of the weapons into the "furniture" that we're transporting. Anger seeps through my veins and at first I fail to recognize why not until it dawns on me. I was torn, torn between rules and brotherhood. A battle of loyalty.

"Bobby take the truck, O'Reilly and I would ride." And so the journey began.

*****************************************************************************************************************************************************************

"Where's Declan?" I ask the dark-complexioned man presently in front of me.

"Other business. I'm his number two, Leandro." He extends his hand forward and I shake it firmly, assessing how much of a threat he really is. Deep chocolate brown eyes meet mine right back, and a faint smile crosses my lips. He's no pushover but not exactly a threat either, needs to find his element. Declan must think highly of him to let him take stock of their supply, so that's something. "I'll be taking charge of the merchandise." My guys cackle upon the last word, yep he definitely needs to find his element.

"Oh come on loosen up y'all." I say to the weapon wielding guys behind Leandro. Of course they can't  laugh at their boss but they looked virtually constipated trying to hold in their laughter. No pun intended by the way. "Let's talk." I gesture to Leandro and we move a little farther from the group.

"The supply is short one AK and a Semi, how are you gonna fix that?"

He look thoughtful for a few seconds before replying "The money is deducted from the next order and 5% off for inconveniences." Not too bad rookie I inwardly nod.

"3%" I counter. He weighs it before extending his hand and we shake on it. "Not bad for a first timer." I compliment and he simply smiles.

"Just let us know when the weapons have been found." I nod to that and we head back to the group before beginning the unloading process. '

Unloading done and we head back to Stocker. We're at the red light when O'Reilly speaks to me. "Shit's crazy huh VP?"

I'm not sure what that means but if he's referring to everything that's happening right now, then I agree. "Yeah, it is."

The light changes and I zoom off, the straight road ahead leading back to the warehouse.

I head straight for my designated parking spot when I see the gold tinted rim Harley that belongs to one person only. That anger returns full throttle as the one half of it glares at me from across the yard. I head straight for him.

Devil's Sons M.C. (Manxman)Where stories live. Discover now