Rebel punk, Oscar Bradley, discovers that his party friend, Max, is the prince of Kingsport's Irish Mob; fierce rivals of the biker gang that's served as Oscar's surrogate family. With Max quickly pulling him deeper into his luxurious but deadly wor...
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Petie slowed the car as they turned onto the street where the Italians said they'd meet them; a suburban area in Applerock, where there were a few vehicles in driveways and hugging curbs. Pretty discrete location...especially if you wanted more eyes and guns around than what there appeared to be. Max kept a sharp eye on windows as they passed houses, and as the street curved, a few men standing around an SUV came into view.
"Looks like our guys," Duncan commented from the front passenger seat.
Max took in a slow, deep breath. "Pull up behind them."
Petie left just enough room between his front bumper and the Italians' rear license plate that a flea might have been able to squeeze between them if it really wanted to, and Max didn't waste any time getting out and straightening his sleeves. He was sporting all black; everything from his suit pants, to his button-up, to the tailored vest, and polished shoes... His red hair was slicked back, styled neatly into place. He had on a watch and earrings, and a few of his favorite rings adorned his knuckles too.
Max looked like a fucking villain...which he felt was plenty appropriate for what he was about to do.
"Evening," he said in a curt tone as he moved to meet one of the goons on the passenger side of the car.
"That him in the back?" the guy asked, trying to get a better look at who'd been sitting next to Max as he and the other two guys came closer.
"Where's Dina?"
The goon who'd spoken first, turned to look at Max as if he'd either asked him something very rude or very dumb. "Which one?"
"Benni, Rufino, Andrea...? I don't really care which."
After blinking a few times, the goon cackled, a wide smile lifting his stubble-covered cheeks. "You didn't really think one'a them was coming out here, did you?"
"Why not?" Max said, tilting his head. "I came out here."
The smile faded from the goon's face, and his expression soured. Wiping his nose on the back of his hand, he took a few more steps towards the car. "Well, is this the guy Gallagher was 'sposed to hand over or not?"
Max's lips curled into a sneer. These idiots really had no clue who he was... He'd fucking fix that.
The paler, broader of the three was practically hovering over Max, giving him so little breathing room that he could have practically guessed what the thug's last meal was, and in one smooth motion, Max threw his elbow out, catching the Italian in the face. There was a loud 'pop' and the man cried out, gripping his nose as red gushed down his upper lip.
One of the other two goons drew on him, and that was enough of an invitation for Max to blast a hole into the guy's shooting arm, causing the stunned Italian to drop his pistol and shriek in pain.
At the same time, the lead goon stumbled back, narrowly avoiding the back passenger door as Rory stepped out with a metal bat in hand. Duncan had climbed out too, forcing the guy with the broken nose onto his knees at gun-point.
