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bustling around outside. Had someone already called the cops? That wasn't it. More engines. It could've been Lobos reinforcements but no one ever does a hit piecemeal. They'd sent everyone they were going to send. I could hear the Lobos filing out of the room next to me, cursing in Spanish.
    Knowing the Lobos would be too distracted to spot me, I opened the shade just enough to get a good look outside. Salvation rode in, in the form of the assholes that were sent to kill me. The Kill Team that Deadeye had sent after me had arrived. With them came a tidal wave of tension, threatening to crash over the Lobos. It was beautiful.
    Seven of the worst psychopaths we had to offer dismounted and put on black masks. The masks were for intimidation and for their exit if, or rather, when the cops came. Kill teams never wore club colors either for the same reason. They didn't want to be associated with the club if the public saw them doing horrible shit. I'm surprised they even rode bikes. My crew always took clean burner cars. I saw their faces before they masked up and knew each and every one of those heartless killers by name.
    Lorenzo walked the Veins up to spitting distance of the Lobos in the parking lot. Outnumbered two to one none of the Veins showed any fear or hesitation. They were here for me and they would lay waste to anything in their way. Fucking scorched earth if necessary.
    Lorenzo was going to do the talking so he kept his mask off for the moment. He looked the same as the last time I saw him, minus a new scar on his cheek. He was tall, lean and clean shaven with short greased back hair. He led this team. There were five teams total. The fist of the Steel Veins.
    The fingers were set up to fight other clubs, each specialized in something different. Lorenzo's was the most direct. Assassination. The pointer finger; they found and pressed out specific people and for the most part, they didn't give a damn about collateral damage in the process. My team was predominately demo but we were good enough with everything for the most part. The catch-all. We were the Steel Veins middle finger.
    Everyone's guns were out but Lorenzo's, he lit a cigarette casually like he was waiting to catch a bus. Then he started talking. He was smooth, given enough time he'd work out an arrangement with the Lobos that allowed everyone to come out looking like they won, except me of course. I'd be dead.
    Even if shit was calming down in the parking lot, no one on my level could hear the conversation and that made for a lot of itchy trigger fingers just waiting to scratch. The Lobos were rattled, they knew who these men were and even having them outnumbered, they probably wished they'd brought more guys. Sirens sounded across town, the cops were finally coming. You could almost smell the tension, it was thick in the air like gasoline on a hot day. It was time I cracked the door, dropped the match and got this party started.
    “¡Vayan a chingar a su madre, pinches gringos cabrones!” I shouted curses at Lorenzo and the rest of the KT.  Still hidden in the room, I licked off two carefully aimed shots. One struck the tire of a KT bike, the other drilled a hole in the back of the Lobo talking with Lorenzo. Then Boom. Everyone exploded into action. Lobos up here unloaded first but were too amped up to hit what they aimed at.
    The Steel Veins though, they cut with extreme precision. In a blink Lorenzo had his mask on and all the Lobos in the parking lot were dead. Bullets chipped the stucco walls all around me as I darted for the short hallway that led to the back stairwell, where my bike was parked. This was not a fight I wanted to stick around for if I could help it. Turns out I might have a date with a pretty girl after all. That is, if once all this was over, she'd ever forgive me for abandoning her.
    Most of the pieces in my master plan were set, but the dominoes fell almost faster than I could get out of the way of. I could hear the cops arrive.