Free Sons of Mayhem 3: War and Vengeance by Nikki Pink Page A

consider. So we sat almost in silence, drinking the wine too fast.
    Please come back, Jase. Please.
     

CHAPTER FOURTEEN
    Jase
    He could hardly see Bottle, despite them being just inches apart. With their dark clothes and painted faces they were almost invisible in the dark. There was no moon. Gauge had been delighted when he realized that would be the case.
    This week several of the streetlights had mysteriously gone out, leaving several pools of darkness around the area. Sneaking through the darkness they headed to their first target, an unlit house. The occupants were asleep, as they had been at this time every day this week.
    They crept towards the front door. Making almost no sound, Jase slipped the key Gauge had given him into the lock, and turned it. There was a click as the lock slid open, and Jase and Bottle hurried in.
    “Is someone there?” The voice was male. Tough sounding. Jase and Bottle headed to the source, the main bedroom, which was exactly where they thought it would be.
    Bottle spoke in Spanish, “Do not make a sound. We mean you no harm. It’s your neighbors we are after.”
    “Who the fuck are you?”
    “We’re from out of town. Way out of town.” Bottle spoke to them fluently, with a southern Mexican accent. Jase didn’t say a word. He knew a few phrases, but there was no way anyone would mistake him for a Mexican. They needed this family to report to the cops later that it was Mexicans who’d barged in. Not a bunch of white bikers.
    “We are going to tie you up. But we will not harm you.”
    “How do we know that?”
    “You don’t know that. But we have big guns. You just have a .22 pistol. If we wanted to hurt you you’d be dead already.”
    There was silence for a moment. The man was probably wondering how they knew he had a .22 pistol. He wouldn’t have believed the truth if they told him: his house had been entered the previous two nights running without him hearing a peep.
    “Okay. Please, don’t hurt my family.”
    “We won’t. Promise.”
    Jase and Bottle quickly got to work, wrapping wide swathes of tape around the wrists and ankles of the immigrant family. Although the wife remained quiet, they had to cover the mouths of the children to stop them screaming.
    In a few minutes, the wide eyed family was secure. “It will be okay, I promise, as long as you don’t make a sound,” Bottle told them as he locked them into the bedroom. There was no telephone in there and their cell phones had been removed. The windows had security bars across them, and the curtains were drawn tightly closed. With the whole family tied together there would be no chance of them escaping any time soon.
    “Let’s do this.”
    Jase and Bottle headed out the back door of the house to the tiny yard behind. They reached the back fence, and tossed down their rifles and backpacks. They could hear their target as soon as soon as the cool outside air hit their faces. They peeked over the fence.
    The house behind was where the Mexicans usually congregated on a Saturday night. They called it a business meeting, but mostly it was an excuse for the men to get drunk and talk about who they were fucking apart from their wives or girlfriends. They ’d stay in there, drinking and smoking, until about 11 or midnight when they’d go for joyrides in their souped up cars, or to a club, or, rarely, home to their families. There was raucous shouting and noise, and loud Spanish rap music pouring out of the building.
    “Shitty neighbors.”
    “Yep. Let’s get to work. Go get the hose.”
    While Bottle went and grabbed the hose that was exactly where Gauge had said it would be, Jase pulled out the hand-pump that was in his backpack. From Bottle ’s backpack he removed the two gallon container of gasoline. How’d a little guy like him carry that?
    When Bottle returned Jase quickly attached one end of the hose to the pump, and shoved its intake into the gasoline container.
    “Can you see it?”
    “Hold on.” Jase