I walked up next to Scythe and drew my gun, pointing it forward.
“Where’s Faith?” Scythe whispered through the corner of his mouth.
“Daisy’s got her.”
“Is she okay?”
“No, but she will be.”
“Open the gates, Scythe. I just want to have a little chat,” Diego’s voice boomed on the other side.
“What the fuck do you want, Diego?” Scythe yelled.
“You know what I want. I want my Fe. Give her to me, and nobody has to die today. I’ll even throw in something you’ve been itching to get for a while.”
Scythe looked at me warily. “You got nothing I want.”
“Of course, I do. That’s why you send your SGT at Arms over to my club to get supplies every week. I’ll hand over the whole operation to you, I just want Fe.”
All heads swiveled over to Guerrilla, who held up his hands. “I have no clue what that motherfucker is talking about. Honest.”
I wanted to turn my gun on him and call him out for his lies, but the second I turned my back, something was going to go down, I felt it in my bones. So, I took a few steps back, keeping Guerrilla in my line of vision.
“One girl for my whole drug operation. Sounds like a pretty sweet deal to me, Scythe. Hand over the girl and it’s all yours.”
Scythe shook his head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. We don’t traffic drugs in the Armada. His eyes shot over to Guerrilla, who was starting to look extremely nervous.
“Two Kilos every month. Sixty percent kicked back to me after it’s sold. You’re SAA is good at getting shit done. I’m sure your club has benefited from his numerous talents.”
“He’s lying,” Guerrilla quickly shouted. “That asshole is trying to turn us against each other.”
“I just want the girl, Scythe. Hand over your sister and we’ll walk away, nobody has to get hurt. No blood shed has to happen, tonight. Just hand over the girl and you get my drugs.”
“Fuck you, Diego. My sister isn’t for sale. There’s nothing you have that I want. Go fuck yourself.”
“Suit yourself. Blood shed it is.” A shot rang out, and Obi went flying backward, landing on the ground with a thud. The second the gun went off, the rest of us started shooting. The cheap fence separating us, dotted with our bullets, as everyone scrambled to get cover. Ice had a machine gun in his hand and started unloading into the Saints below before jumping down to protect Scythe.
Ice used to be in the Marines alongside Switchblade, so both move through the yard tactfully, as if they were in the middle of Afghanistan fighting a war. Ice motioned with his hands, and Switchblade flanked my side.
“Shoot to kill, Prospect,” he yelled, as he unloaded a cartridge through the fence. The fence was forced open from the other side and at least seven Saints members rampaged through, shooting as they went. I jumped behind a car, as a guy drew down on me and started firing, bullets barely missing my body.
Scythe rolled to my side, out of breath, his arm bleeding.
“You’ve been hit!” I yelled.
“Flesh wound, keep shooting these motherfuckers.”
The same Saint’s member who shot at me before appeared out of nowhere, and out of reflex, I shot first, hitting him dead in the forehead.
“Nice shot, you’ve been practicing. You used to shoot like shit,” Scythe complimented.
“Now’s not the time for insults, brother. We gotta take these assholes out before they hit the compound.”
Scythe nodded and peeked over the car. Someone shot at him, the bullets whipped over his head and penetrated the cold metal of the shop building behind us.
I dropped to my back and slid across the ground, popping out behind the back tire of the old Montego we were hiding behind. Switchblade was walking backward shooting in the direction of the fence. He briefly turned and began to run toward a pile of oil drums near the compound doors. A few Saints zipped past me, chasing after Switchblade, guns drawn ready to shoot. I open fired, hitting one in the leg, and the other in the side. Both fell to the ground in tandem. Ice came up behind them and shot each one in the head, before giving me a swift nod and moving on. Switchblade looked over at me in shock, but if he was thankful that I just saved his ass he didn’t show it.
Jagger and Rex ran past me next; both had their guns hanging by their sides, Rex looked panicked, but Jagger looked like a crazed maniac.
“You’ll never take me alive, Shitheads!” Jagger screamed, laughing manically as he began shooting around the yard. That stupid shit is going to get himself killed.
Riptide appeared out of nowhere, taking refuge next to Scythe. I didn’t want to leave him alone and wounded, so the second Riptide showed up I was on the move.
“Stay here, Scythe, I’m going to go look for Diego. Riptide, protect our Prez, he’s wounded.”
“Be careful, Specter.”
I gave him a quick nod and emerged from my hiding place. There were gun shots going off in all different directions, but I kept to the shadows, moving silently across the yard until I was closer to where the Saints were hiding. Nobody could see me as I crept in closer.
“We need to retreat, Diego,” said a taller man, the same one I witnessed giving Guerrilla the drugs at Diego’s Club.
“I’m not leaving until I get my Fe.”
“You’re going to get us all killed, Diego. That fucking whore is not worth it. Just let her go.”
“She’s mine, Marco. I’m not leaving until I’m dragging that bitch’s body out of that compound by her hair.”
I drew my gun, aiming it for Diego’s skull. Nobody threatens Faith and gets away with it. My finger tapped the trigger, I wanted to make sure I had the best shot before firing. My finger curled, and I took a deep breath. I already shot three men today, what’s one more?
BANG!
Diego’s body swayed then fell backward, gun spinning out of his hand as his body hit the ground lifelessly.
I blinked. Did I shoot him? No. I hadn’t even pulled the trigger. If I didn’t shoot him then who did?
Marco, Diego’s second in command, made a hellacious grotesque sound as he gathered his spit and spat, his saliva smacking Diego in the face before it crawled down his cheek. “I told you to let it go and you didn’t listen, Puta. Now ya dead.”
Marco looked around to make sure no one had witnessed what he just did and took off running. “Retreat, those motherfuckers killed Diego!”
I stared at Diego’s lifeless body on the ground, shocked that his own man would turn on him like that. I didn’t know what to do, I should’ve shot at Marco as he ran away, but I didn’t. I just stared at Diego’s dead body until I heard more people rushing past me.
The few remaining Saints followed their new leader out of the compound, and before we had a chance to react, they were on their bikes and gone. Including Diego, four of their men died tonight.
“Everyone okay?” Scythe yelled, jumping up from behind the car, holding his shoulder. Riptide trailed behind him.
I popped out of my hiding spot and ran to his side.
“You took out Diego, good job!” he congratulated me.
“I didn’t do it, Scythe. His own man shot him dead. They’re setting us up. They’re starting a war.”