Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
We have it on authority that two of the four Keres MC members are in violation of their parole for leaving Missouri. That’s the reasoning behind the state police getting involved. If they weren’t in violation, the best that could be done was them being followed until they attempted to do something bad.
Today is a huge risk because Adrian Larrick, president of the Keres MC, is not one of the ones in violation. If the two that are in violation are taken into custody, the police have no other recourse than to let him go.
“This is my show,” the patrolman says after Kincaid just glares at him. “Our aim is true. It’s not my fault if you don’t have confidence in your men’s ability to shoot.”
As a highly skilled and trained sniper, I take immediate offense to what he says, but I keep my mouth shut. He could easily ask us to leave, but Keres MC’s reputation precedes them. I know he’s nervous. Even outnumbered with his own officers, I can see that he’s glad to have us here as backup. If he didn’t, he would’ve challenged the fact that we’re all dressed in tactical gear and heavily armed.
“Besides, I think we’ll be able to end amicably,” he says, but there’s a hint of uncertainty in his tone.
“We won’t,” Kincaid snaps. “Larrick’s own father died in a hail of bullets because he didn’t want to go back to prison. His two sons are riding into my town today, and I highly doubt either Larrick man will be willing to be arrested. It’s going to get bloody, and I need you to know that so you don’t get your fucking head shot off trying to talk reason into them.”
“Nonetheless,” the patrolman growls. “The houses in the distance are safe, and if not, they’ve been cleared.”
Kincaid bristles but he doesn’t argue further. We all know that overconfidence can lead to mistakes.
“The younger brother hasn’t ever been arrested,” another patrolman says.
“Doesn’t mean he won’t end up there or dead today,” I mutter. “They don’t have a problem with the first stint because it gives them street cred, but they aren’t willing to go down a second time. Just keep that in mind when they start this way. I have a woman and three kids to get back to today, and I won’t let the New Mexico Highway Patrol keep me from doing that.”
“Keres MC will fall today,” he says stupidly.
“Keres MC is more than just four fucking members,” I growl. “And it’s a cocky attitude like that that’ll get someone hurt today. No matter what happens today, Keres MC will still be standing.”
The man locks his eyes on me, but the roar of motorcycles in the distance floats on the breeze.
We all crouch, waiting as they approach. If they were smart, they’d turn around and head back home, but a false sense of pride must win out because they stop in the middle of the road, fifty yards away. They’d have to be pretty skilled shooters to hit a target from that far away, but sometimes assholes just get lucky.
I shake my head at the police in the distance who move from the rock quarry and close them in. Keres wouldn’t have a chance to retreat even if they wanted to. I don’t know how to feel about it. What I said is true. Keres won’t fall today even if both Larrick boys are taken out. The best I can hope for is that whoever steps up to take Adrian’s place chooses anything but retaliation against Cerberus.
“Brant Jesper and Cody Miles, I have warrants for your arrest,” the guy in control of this entire situation says using a bull horn from the opposite side of the tactical vehicle from the Keres members.
“Warrants?” one of the guys yells. “We’re just out for a ride.”
“You’re under arrest for a parole violation.” The guy’s voice isn’t very sure, and I have no doubt that the dangerous men fifty yards away can hear it just as easily as we can.
I look to Kincaid, but all he can do is shake his head. We aren’t exactly known for waiting in situations like this. We’re usually a shoot-first ask-questions-later kind of group, but we also almost always operate outside of the United States.
“I guess you better come put those cuffs on me then.”
My guess is that it’s Brant Jesper who’s taunting the police. He’s possibly more psychotic than their president.
“Gragg,” Kincaid snaps when the man lowers the bullhorn with one hand, pulling his cuffs from his belt with his other. “That’s not fucking smart.”
“I’ve got this,” the man snaps.
The second he pops his head up over the hood of the tactical vehicle a shot sounds.
The man turns white as a ghost in the blink of an eye, dropping to his ass by the tire of the vehicle.