Inferno: A Devil Chaser's MC Romance Read Online Free PDF

area. Frayser has become the new Chicago with its dilapidated houses with large bars on the windows and miles of low-income housing. The apartments look run down with graffiti marks on the walls. There are only a few cars out, but the ones we see have dark tinted windows playing loud thumping music as they drive by. Prostitutes stand on the corners waiting to make their next dollar, calling out and strutting around to the cars passing by. We pass several liquor stores and gas stations also tagged with gang graffiti. There are a few motorcycle clubs in the Memphis area, but this is definitely gang territory. They have marked their terrain, and any fool would know to be cautious. Everyone knows you don’t mess around with these gangs. They are known to shoot first, and they don’t stop to ask questions.
    The Diablo’s warehouse is behind an old local liquor store off of Whitney Avenue. It is actually an old loading dock with large roll-back doors on the front. There is one security light over the main door, otherwise it’s dark around the warehouse. We can hear their loud voices over the music as we pull to a stop. When laughter breaks out and a bottle crashes inside, we realize they must be drinking. Not a good thing under the circumstances. This is not a time to be careless.
    “Tell me those motherfuckers aren’t in there drinking right now!” Sheppard shouts.
    “We gotta play this cool, brother. We gotta get in and get out. Let’s unload this shit as fast as we can, and head out,” I say to Sheppard.
    “No doubt. I’ll go get them to roll up the door so you can pull in,” Sheppard says as he jumps out of the truck. He walks over to knock on the side door. Shortly after, the roll-back door begins to rise.
    I slowly pull the trailer into the warehouse and ease out of the truck. I check out the surroundings and notice several men standing around with beers in their hands. I quickly move to the back of the truck and begin to open the trailer. I have to release the hidden compartment, so we can get to the crates. “Where do you want us to put the crates?” I ask one of the guys closest to me.
    “Just put ‘em over by that black Tahoe. We’ll have to separate ‘em and load ‘em from there,” he replies with a slur. He’s a big guy with a scraggly long red beard. He’s wearing his worn out Diablo’s cut and looks to be about fifty years old. He takes another slug from his beer and just stands there glaring at me. He looks like a real tool.
    Sheppard and I begin stacking the crates by the truck while the prospects, Otis and Bulldog, stand watch. A young, pimple-faced kid with an old cap and jeans comes over to us. He can’t be over fifteen years old, but he walks with confidence. He asks, “You guys need any help?”
    “Nah man, we got this. Thanks, though. Why don’t you go help my guys keep a look out? We should be done here in a minute,” I say to the kid, wondering what the hell he is doing here with these guys. I can tell this kid has no business running with these pricks.
    When we are almost done, Otis calls over to me, “Hey, Ace? I think someone is out there.” He points his finger to a light shining through the window. One of the Diablos also sees the light and quickly pulls out his weapon.
    “We got company!” the red-bearded Diablo shouts. The Diablo crew starts moving to the windows with their guns drawn.
    “Let’s get moving guys!” I shout to my brothers. “Get in the truck. We need to get out of here before all hell breaks loose.”
    Sheppard and I quickly start gathering the guys up into the trailer. As we are loading up, gunfire explodes throughout the warehouse. Total chaos surrounds us. The gunfire continues as the Diablo crew shouts back and forth.
    “It’s the cops! You gotta take him out!” one of the Diablos shout. “Shoot the motherfucker, and let’s get the hell out of here!”
    Things go to shit fast. Several of the Diablos continue to fire shots at the cop outside,