My feet pound against the pavement as I sprint, my breaths bursting out of me and lungs burning. Keep going. The sound of a bullet fires off and I duck, picking up my pace. Shit.
Another bullet goes off and I slide across the concrete behind a dump truck. Within seconds I have my gun pulled out from the waistband of my jeans and I click off the safety, shooting to my feet and leaning around the truck so that my target comes into view. I pull the trigger without hesitation. And I don't miss.
"Watch it!" Mitch scowls and drops the shooting board lightening fast. "That could have been my arm, you dick!"
"But it wasn't," I respond evenly. I walk back into view and Mitch hands me the board, the one with a bullet hole right in the centre. He puts his gun away and I do the same, both of us panting. "That's enough training. Let's get out of here."
"Thank fuck," He mumbles under his breath as we head back inside the warehouse. "You take this shit way too seriously. Fucker made me hold a shooting board right next to my body. The goddamn nerve."
"I let you shoot me back so you'd feel safer."
"Right. Safer. I enjoyed being pitted against a killing machine just because I had a glock in my hand."
I chuckle, clapping him on the back in thanks. He's followed every order I've given him and has had my back the way no one else has. He is one of the main reasons I've been able to put my plan together.
It's been three months since that night with Laura and I haven't had a moment's rest since.
I thought a lot about everything she said. I missed her all the time, with no way to contact her. But I know where to find her when the time is right and I've been doing everything to make things right again. If everything goes accordingly, I will be leaving the South Bloods soon.
It was not a decision that came easy. There were too many factors that made it next to impossible. How was I going to keep Laura safe if we were constantly on the run? It's not like I'd be hard to find now that I'm a professional boxer with a direct spotlight under me at all times. Leaving would not be possible without the support of at least a handful of men willing to keep eyes and ears all around to ensure my safety and hers. The only way to turn them was to give them something in return, so I had to plan.
The answer was simple enough—money. But not the kind where I'd throw a wad at them and they'd stay quiet. These men needed a stable source of income if they were going to leave South Bloods to support me. I had to come up with opportunities that would match their respective skills from gang work, something that they would enjoy and pay well. That's when I brainstormed security, selling legal weapons, training, safe-housing, among many others. Quiet spots around the city where ex-members could hide in plain sight and use their job as a security for their own safety. With the money I've made from fighting and leading South Bloods, I've opened all kinds of new locations that are ready to have men moved in. It's coming together slowly but surely.
"I still don't get one thing." Mitch locks the door to the warehouse, the one I've told Father I bought as a new training ground but instead use to devise his downfall. "South Bloods has a law that blood members can't be killed by any and all gangs. Doesn't that make you untouchable so you and Laura would be safe?"
"I'd be safe but not Laura," I explain. "It's blood members only—anyone who directly comes from the Resnick lineage. It's why no one else in South Bloods has protection. It's as selfish a law as the rest of Father's leadership."
"Hell. Here I was thinking you could just marry Laura and give her your name and then you'd both be safe."
"Already thought of that," I shrug. Stark silence greets me and I finally glance away from the whiteboard and find Mitch gaping at me. "What?"
YOU ARE READING
RAZE (Fighter's Den, #0.5)
RomanceThe only worthy man is the man willing to spill blood. There is no greater gang feared in the streets of New York than South Bloods. They kill, they feast, and they delight in spilling blood. Greg "Raze" Resnick has always known it was his legacy to...