Stung by Stealth: A Satan's Savages MC Novel #3 Read Online Free Page A

the other guys around me, but Crash creases his eyebrows and shakes his head. “Why the fuck are you laughing? That sounds nasty?”
    “Techie chuckles and nods. Only hurts for a while, but it’s worse for us, trust me.”
    Crash furrows his brows and pouts. “What’s that fucking mean?”
    “It’s hard watching you suffer,” Techie replies.
    Chuckling at poor Crash, who’s oblivious to us teasing him, I bite my lip trying not to burst into fits of laughter.
    “Okay, right.” Crash’s eyebrows scrunch together.
    “You’ll be fine, you cockhead, I’m just fucking with you,” Techie replies making us all laugh that little bit harder.
    Unexpectedly, the lights all shut off, throwing the range into complete darkness. My heart rate spikes as I look around the room. The only light, a green emergency exit sign turns on, sending a dull hue over the area. We all grab for our weapons, pulling them out and wracking them. Lights don’t just turn off on a place full of club of bikers for no reason, trouble is coming, we just have to wait for it to walk through the door in its size eleven boots. Aiming our guns at the door the silence is deafening. I can only hear the heavy breathing of my brothers in the room, and the footsteps stepping toward the door from outside the room. I’m not sure what the protocol is here, shoot first ask questions later, or see who the intruders are first then shoot. I have no idea. I’ll follow Mad Dog’s lead on this one.
    The door swings open with a creak and four men saunter in the room. They all appear to be Mexican in race, sporting black moustaches and ponytails, in contrast to their expensive designer suits. A cold shudder runs down my spine as I glance to Mad Dog, who’s furrowing his brows obviously wondering who these guys are just like the rest of us.
    Chops points his gun right at their heads clicking off his safety. “Who the fuck are you?”
    All four men raise their hands placing their weapons on the bench to the side. We all stiffen targeting our guns with precision aim. Taking some harsh deep breaths, I watch the guys at the back just to make sure they’re not hiding a weapon while everyone’s distracted with the guy at the front, who takes a step forward raising his hands in surrender and looks right at Mad Dog. The tension in the air is so thick you couldn’t even cut it with Wesley, Steel’s knife.
    “We’re just here to talk,” the lead Mexican guy announces in his thick accent.
    My heart’s racing. Last time something happened like this it was an all-out war with the 5113ers. Blood was spilled, lives were lost. Who knows what their game is?
    “Why the dramatics with the power outage?” Techie asks.
    The leader shrugs and smirks pointing to one of the other guys. “Manuel thought it’d give us mood lighting. Dramatic effect and all… he’s a romantic at heart, our Manuel.”
    Manuel nods and shrugs as Chops brings the barrel of the Glock right up against the leader’s temple. “What. Do. You. Want? Whoever the fuck you are,” Chops enunciates.
    The leader smirks and nods. “Name’s José. I’m here on behalf of my employer—”
    “Who is?” Mad Dog interrupts. We all keep our Glocks aimed at the four Mexicans.
    “All in good time, Amigo. We noticed you’re planning to distribute guns and drugs to the streets. We’d like to see that doesn’t happen. My employer kindly asks you cease distribution, and either take your business elsewhere, or you move your business to other avenues of profit.”
    Mad Dog chuckles and shakes his head. “Kindly tell your employer to suck my giant fat hairy cock.”
    I smirk as snickers filter through the room, but not from the Mexicans who are all frowning and shaking their heads. José leans over to the bench and picks up his gun. I tense the same as everyone else. We’re all aiming our guns, fingers on the trigger, waiting for him to make his move. He simply holsters his gun and raises his hands in