Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 69772 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69772 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
There were too many of them.
And the kids holding the kite competition were right in the middle of the two gangs.
Mother. Fucker.
A text came through in my pocket, and soon they came, one after the other after the other.
The family text chain had been activated.
Mom returned to my side, her trusty firearm now on full display, along with her badge.
My mother might be all of five-foot-four, but she was a powerhouse. And she’d kick every man’s ass that she encountered if she needed to.
“Ma,” I murmured. “I need you to get to that group of kids behind the bathrooms.”
“On it.” She paused. “Are you going to the kites?”
I swallowed hard. “I’m going to the kites.”
As I did, more and more colors of the two gangs started appearing.
All of them gathering right across from each other.
I pulled my phone out when it started to ring Gable’s ringtone.
“Yeah,” I said as I tucked my chin and headed toward the kids.
“Shit’s about to go down,” he said without preamble. “I wasn’t supposed to be here today. Acted like I was in the area and started to see people. It’s…”
He didn’t need to finish.
Gang wars were rather simple.
Both of them wanted to be the superior gang in the city. Hell, they wanted to be the only gang in the city.
The only problem with that was, they didn’t care who had to get hurt to make that happen.
Even worse, they chose to do it in public places, like at parks, where there were a bunch of kids as collateral fuckin’ damage.
“Your covers gonna be blown wide open,” I said.
“It’s okay,” he said. “I got almost all that I need. Whatever is about to happen here today…”
I got to the kite competition, and found the nearest adult, who happened to be a man in his late seventies, as he tried and failed to teach a bunch of tiny kids how to fly a kite.
We made eye contact over the tops of the kids heads, and I said, “Hey, kids. I know that y’all have worked up quite an appetite. We got the Kona Ice truck here, and everything is set up for you.”
Kona Ice wasn’t here.
In fact, we didn’t have anything here but a goddamn box truck that held all of our training equipment.
But it was empty, and they needed to get the fuck out of dodge, fast.
“Oh!” a kid cried. “I love cherry!”
Then they were all running toward the empty truck.
I watched out of the corner of my eye as Ameer guided them toward the back of it, and then they all started jumping inside.
“Hey! What’s going on with my kids!” a parent yelled across the park. “You! What are you doing with our kids?”
That’s when we finally came onto the radar of the gang members.
Before, they hadn’t seen us.
We’d all dressed in plain clothes today.
But I wasn’t someone who stayed low profile with them. I was arresting all of their friends every single day. They knew who I was, and now that they saw me…
“Old man,” I said to him as the first gang member pulled their gun. “Run.”
The old man didn’t waste time.
What he couldn’t do was run, though.
The first shot rang out, and I hit the ground and rolled.
A hot sting had me glancing down to see that I’d taken a bullet graze along the length of my calf, but that didn’t stop me from getting back up and running like my life depended on it.
The old man went down with a cry, and I turned around to see his face get blown off.
Black and yellow.
The man who’d been shot was wearing black and yellow.
Colors of the third most prominent gang—and getting stronger by the day—in Dallas.
The Codes colors.
“Fuckin’ hell,” I gasped as I went into a crouch behind a tree. “God dammit!”
“Backup!” I heard yelled.
I turned to see the police cars start pouring into the parking lot, but they were too late.
This had already gotten way out of hand.
I pulled out my gun, checked the backdrop to make sure there would be no collateral damage, and then started taking out the gang bangers with the guns.
Most of the ones I could take out safely were Breakers.
However, when one of the West Backers ran across my line of sight, gun in hand, aimed at a kid wearing orange and teal, I took him out the old-fashioned way, by tackling him to the ground.
I felt something snap in my finger, but ignored it as I gave the West Backer one solid punch to the temple, and then moved through the trees.
It lasted all of two minutes.
Cops swarmed the area.
Parents screamed.
Kids were lost in the woods behind the park.
And every last gang member that showed up was either arrested or taken down with a bullet.
Even Gable lay cuffed on the ground, playing his part well.