Fractured Fear (The Devils of New York #1)

Chapter 43

CHAPTER 43

ASHER

I ’m ready for heads to roll. Specifically, a couple fuckers who thought they could come by and shoot up my family. Spencer may give me more headaches than my last clingy hookup, but she’s important to Rio and Zane—my constant hard on around her doesn’t factor into the equation.

These MS-13 fucks are lucky Spencer and Iris weren’t hurt. They already have a world of hurt coming down on them, but if Spencer had been shot? We wouldn’t just be hunting them down to slaughter them like the little pieces of shit they are, we would make an example of them.

In fact, maybe that’s what we’ll do. Make them an example. Then everyone will know that you don’t fuck with Spencer Gray.

When driving through Brownsville, out in Brooklyn, your head better be on a fucking swivel. My Glock rests on my thigh and my shoulder holster is loaded with two more guns. We suited up after we left Hank in the rear view.

Rio has his knives strapped at his waist and his Beretta in hand.

That man and his knives. Never offer to hold them for him .

Zane is wearing his own shoulder holster and has a gun on each side.

We don’t expect to encounter too much trouble, but you never know. Those two could have a whole armory in that rundown house.

The upside in this whole thing? The neighbors won’t call the cops if bullets start flying. It’s that kind of neighborhood.

We park a couple houses away. The house is white—or what once would have been called white. Now the paint is chipped and yellowed from neglect and the elements. It’s a small one-story house which will make infiltration easier. The grass is a pathetic brown and the door is the same tinted white color. There’s no fence around the small property which means no pets. No pets mean the guys inside won’t be warned of our approach.

The sun has begun to set, in just thirty minutes it will be darker than the pits of Hell. We can let loose and play .

Zane turns toward me in the backseat. “How do we want to play this?”

Rio bounces his knee impatiently. “Pizza delivery?”

I groan. “Seriously?”

The smile in Rio’s voice rings clear when he says, “It’s my favorite!”

“I don’t have any pizza boxes in my car.”

“Nah. I put some in the trunk the other day. Sal gave them to me.”

Letting out a chuckle I shake my head. He would. “When the fuck did you have time to do that?”

“I like to be prepared. I never know when I’ll need an excuse to get inside someone’s house.” He’s dead ass serious. Of course, he is . We may be crazy assholes, but Rio’s mind has always operated differently. His sister’s death broke something in him when he was just ten-years-old.

We sit in silence, watching the house, waiting for a signal that someone is home.

After what feels like an eternity, there’s movement in the front window to the right of the door. Someone is peeking through the blinds. Zane just nods and Rio chuckles low.

Oh, you stupid motherfucker. You have no idea what’s coming.

We quietly get out of the car and Rio grabs the empty pizza boxes for his dumbass ruse. The pretense isn’t necessary, we could just bust down the doors or sneak in and surprise them, but Rio enjoys playing with his food first.

Zane and I take the back door. I’m always in the door first. If someone gets shot, I want it to be me. If someone tries to run, it’s on Zane to chase them down. He’s fast and can outrun Rio and me even on our best day.

From the back of the house we hear the doorbell ring and muffled voices. I note at least two. While they talk, I test the doorknob.

Unlocked. Idiots.

As soon as the front door opens, I slowly open the back with my Glock in hand, outstretched in front of me. We open to a musty kitchen with dingy appliances, a card table, and foldable chairs. The tiled floor has clearly seen better days.

Creeping across the kitchen, I bypass the hallway as Zane turns to go down it and clear each room. My path leads me to the living room and the next thing I know, I’m staring at the back of a tattooed head.

Rio drops the boxes and with a large grin says, “Boo.”

The guy jumps back into my chest and tries to dart to the left, but I already have my arm up and around his neck, cutting off his air supply. Ten seconds later he’s out cold and I let him drop.

“Zane went down the hallway. Meet up with him and make sure he’s good. I’ll get this one tied up and ready to go.”

“I bet I was a pizza delivery driver in another life. I’m fucking good at this.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m sure.” I shake my head at him and the shit that comes out of his mouth.

Just before Rio is able to close the door, tattooed fingers wrap around the edge.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Rio groans.

The door swings open, banging against the wall outside, and in steps the last person we wanted to see. Gabriel Castillo, palabrero of the MS-13 New York cell. He has even more tattoos than Rio and that’s saying something. He has a blue, folded bandana tied around his forehead and wears a large white tee with saggy, dark wash jeans. The dim light from inside the house reflects off his shaved head; three inked tear drops rest below the corner of his left eye. A gross misinterpretation as we all know he’s killed more than three men. An accurate number would probably be closer to several dozen.

“Rio! ?Qué pasa, hermano? ”

“ Dios mío, dame paciencia ,” Rio looks to the ceiling with his hands clasped together in front of him. “I’m not your brother, puto .”

“Right, because a brother wouldn’t leave another brother behind.” Gabriel crosses his arms and leans against the door frame, his demeanor shifting from friendly to deadly.

“I went to college, compa . Just because I didn’t want to join la mara doesn’t mean I left you in the dust. Put on your big boy chones and get over it. Read a self-help book or something.”

Ignoring Rio’s response, Gabriel turns his head to me. “What’re you doing with my homeboy there?”

“We need to ask him some questions.” I cross my arms over my chest and keep my face blank. He won’t get more of an answer than that.

“What a coincidence. I have some questions myself.” Gabriel mirrors my stance. I hope he doesn’t think he looks intimidating. Just because I can see his gun tucked in the front of his jeans, doesn’t make him a badass. I could easily grab his gun that’s perfectly aimed right at his dick.

“We’ll drop him off to Mommy after Daddy is done.” Rio gives Gabriel a condescending wink. He’s pretending to be calm, but I can see his hand twitching for his knives. I don’t know the entire history between them, but I know it wasn’t pretty.

There’s a scraping sound coming down the hall and we all freeze. I whip around with my gun in hand and aim at the hallway opening. Zane is standing there holding the ankle of the second occupant of the house. He’s unconscious and bleeding.

Zane unceremoniously drops the boy’s leg and crosses his arms. “What are you fucking doing here?” His question is directed at Gabriel like a dagger between the eyes. To say that Zane is Gabriel’s biggest hater is an understatement. I’m not a big fan either, but for Z, the disdain runs deeper than that.

Gabriel spreads his arms wide. “I came to clean up a mess, but it seems you three beat me to it. Thank you for tying them in a nice little bow for me. You can go now. I’ll take it from here.”

“That’s not fucking happening. We have some questions for your homeboys and then you can have what’s left over.” Zane spits out the word homeboys like it’s diseased.

“I wasn’t asking for your permission, cerdo .”

“The only way you’re taking them is over my dead body.” Zane takes a step forward.

“That can be arranged.” Gabriel gives Z a vicious smile.

In the blink of an eye Rio has his tactical karambit in his hand pressed against Gabriel’s throat and his k-bar in his other hand resting above Gabriel’s gun. “Say that again, cabrón .”

“These are my men,” Gabriel spits out. A trickle of blood rolls down his throat and the fucker doesn’t even blink.

“Your men who are taking side jobs from someone else. They shot up my girl’s shop today, and I intend to find out who the fuck sent them.” Rio pushes his knife into Gabriel’s throat more.

“I can’t just let you walk out of here with them.”

“Sure you can. You just stand there and we leave.” I shrug my shoulders.

Gabriel signals one of his men when he whistles, and like the good little bitch he is, Diego Rivera walks through the back door. I whip around with my gun trained on him while his is on me. Looks like we’re going to have a good ol’ Mexican standoff.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Zane pulls out his two Berettas, aiming the first at Diego and the second on someone coming down the hall.

Fucking Mateo Alvarez. I should have known. Gabriel doesn’t go anywhere without his segundo palabrero and his other unofficial segundo palabrero .

“Let’s make this a fun reunion. Two long lost friends working together for the greater good. We can talk to the two mierdas together,” Gabriel suggests.

“Fine. You can follow us to our place.” I lower my weapon as a show of good faith.

“No fucking way.” Zane holds steady, refusing to give in.

“Z,” I state, my voice even. I don’t need to say more to get him to listen. He knows this is the best option.

Rio and Gabriel may be childhood friends, but he wouldn’t hesitate to kill us if he had to. You don’t make it to be the palabrero of New York, and keep the respect, without a healthy amount of ruthlessness.

Rio sheaths his knives and steps back still facing Gabriel, his carefree persona back in place. “You can pick up the pies from Sal’s. I don’t like working on an empty stomach.”

“Do I look like your errand boy, Flores?”

“No, but you have two right there.” Rio grins at Mateo and Diego, giving each a slight nod in their general direction.

“ Hijo de puta .” Diego rolls his eyes, tucks his gun into his jeans, and walks out the door. Mateo follows Diego’s lead.

“Let’s get this show on the road, amigos !” Rio claps his hands while Z and I lift the two unconscious bodies up and over our shoulders. Rio stops on the front lawn and we immediately recognize our problem.

“Should’ve hijacked a car,” Rio mutters.

Coming up with a solution, I bite out commands. “Rio you take Tweedle Dumb with Gabriel and Mateo. Z and I will take Tweedle Dee with Diego.” Rio nods and we all part. Rio, Gabriel, and Mateo all head towards an Escalade parked right out front and the rest of us head to Z’s clown car.

“You need an upgrade,” Diego says with his light Hispanic accent.

“Fuck off,” Zane bites back.

As we open doors to get in the car, I hear Rio tell Gabriel, “I was serious about the pies. I’m fucking starving. I do my best work on a full stomach.”