Slay (Storm MC #4)

Leroy had his loyal gang members backing him up, but I had far more of our members behind me. Once we’d discovered how Leroy was filling his brothels, we’d decided we could no longer support a filthy pig like him; a pig that refused to treat women with the respect they deserved.

His eyes were wild, his body taut; he was just as ready for this showdown as I was. “You do remember who took your sorry ass off the street and showed you what you were capable of, don’t you?” He pushed his face towards mine. We were so close now that when he spat his next words out, I could smell his foul breath. “I fucking own you, Blade. You don’t get to fucking challenge what I do.”

The calmness that always took over whenever I was about to kill descended upon me. My breathing remained steady, sure. “That’s where you’re wrong, Leroy. You don’t own me, and I sure as hell don’t owe you a damn thing. Not anymore. That debt has been paid. But you and I have a huge fucking problem if you think it’s okay to force women into selling their bodies so you can make money off them”

“They fucking owed me for the drugs they’d been buying off me!” he thundered, as if that made it all right. His thinking was so fucking screwed up he didn’t know right from wrong anymore. Hell, in his world, there was no wrong. Only what he wanted, and that was always right.

“There’s going to be some changes around here,” I stated with the calmness I felt in my bones. This was the right thing to do.

“You’re fucking dreaming if you think you can take me out and keep this organisation running, at the level of profit I’ve achieved, without the women.”

“And you’re fucking deluded if you think I’m going to let you live, so I guess I really only have one option here: kill you and find a way to make it all work, because I sure as fuck have no intention of running drugs or women anymore.”

In the blink of an eye, Leroy gave his men the nod, and a second later I had five guns trained on me. In return, Leroy had twelve on him. I waited for his next play. After all, patience was my strong suit.

“If you think you can kill me with no repercussions, my boy, you might want to think again,” he threatened with the confidence of a man who never made promises he couldn’t keep. Leroy most certainly had shit planned for this exact outcome, but he underestimated me.

I pulled my blade out and took another step closer to him. In a low voice, I said, “It’s a good thing you taught me to always keep one eye behind me, then, isn’t it?”

His eyes widened slightly, and I took in the sheen of sweat on his forehead. He knew his breaths were limited. My pulse quickened as I savoured his fear and anticipated sinking my knife in his gut.

Merrick, my right-hand man, moved to speak into my ear. “Let’s get this shit over with, Blade. I don’t want to risk anything fucking this up, not when you've got him right where you need him.”

Merrick was right, as usual, and without giving Leroy any warning, I sunk my knife into his stomach. He roared with pain and staggered back. I pulled the knife back, yanking it from his body, only to plunge it back into his stomach. My blade connected with his flesh over and over as I sought retribution for the crimes he’d committed against the women in his organisation. I heard gunshots as our boys fought it out, but all I was concentrating on was Leroy’s blood. I needed more of it on my hands.

On my knees, surrounded by blood, my breathing ragged, Leroy lay in front of me, his body a carved canvas of death. And I was the proud and satisfied artist. No longer would he cause terror and suffering to so many.

I left him on the ground and stood. Merrick’s gaze met mine, and he nodded. We were half-way to where we needed to be today.

I surveyed the casualties. There were too many; this had to be stopped before we had more. “Enough!” I bellowed. Everyone was smart enough to know that with Leroy gone, I was taking over, and they followed my command. “You all know where I stand. If that’s not something you want to support, now’s the time to leave.”

Leroy’s staunch supporter, Ricky, stepped forward. He’d taken a bullet in his arm and was beyond angry. “How the fuck do you propose to move forward, Blade? Leroy was right, there’s no way to pull the kind of dollars in without the girls and the drugs. And I’m not willing to take a pay-cut.”

One of the best things to ever happen, in my opinion, was for an opponent to walk straight down the path you’d already planned for them to walk down, and to do it thinking it was their own choice. Ricky Grecian was doing that right now, and all I had to do was keep leading him. “I can’t promise there won’t be a pay-cut, so I’d suggest you think long and hard about which way you want to go, Ricky.”

He continued scowling, and I knew exactly how this was going to play out. After glaring at me for a few minutes, he announced, “I’m out. And I’ll take the girls with me.”

“Not fucking likely, motherfucker,” I growled. “The girls stay with me.”

“You said you don’t want them.”