PROLOGUE
Snake Eyes Bail Bonds
Graveyard Shift
The neon sign outside buzzed in the dark, casting a sickly green and red pulse over the cracked parking lot. Every few seconds the light flickered, stuttered, then caught again—like it was warning in morse code and nobody was paying attention.
Inside Snake Eyes, the air was thick with stale coffee and leftover heat from the day.
Ram sat behind the desk, boots crossed, flipping his knife with bored precision. The blade caught the neon glow every time it turned.
Against the front window, Diablo watched the empty street, perfectly still—the kind of stillness that came when trouble was close. His fingers tapped the windowsill to the gallop of The Evil That Men Do bleeding through the room, his gut tightening with the certainty that something was about to go down.
Behind the counter sat Raymundo—sweaty, round, civilian. Hunched over the desk like it could protect him. A bag of Funyuns sat open at his side, half on the counter, half spilled over his shirt.
He glanced at Diablo and wiped his mouth.
“I don’t like this,” he muttered. “Not one bit.”
Ram didn’t look at him. “Eat your chips.”
“I’m serious, man. Nobody else took that bond. Every other office hung up the damn phone.”
Diablo began tapping on the windowsill, eyes still on the street. “Should’ve stayed home then, Raymundo.”
Raymundo frowned, shifting in his chair. “Don’t call me that. It’s Mundo or Ray. Only my mom calls me that. Why are you two even here? You never cover graveyard.”
Ram flicked his knife again, voice flat. “Because we missed you, Mundo.”
Raymundo swallowed. “This is about that guy, isn’t it? That bond everybody was turning down. My buddy at county was saying—”
“Shut up.” Diablo’s voice cracked like a whip. Raymundo froze immediately.
A truck in the street rolled by slow headlights dragging across the window. Diablo’s hand drifted toward the pistol at his waist. The truck kept moving. The lights faded.
The silence that followed felt thick as oil.
“Nah, something’s up, you two are—”
“Down!” Diablo yelled.
POP. POP. POP–POP–POP.
The front windows exploded inward, spraying glass across the room like rain made of knives.
The neon sign shorted out, flickering violently before dying with a long, dying bzzzzkt.
Diablo reacted first—he dove sideways, yanking Raymundo down with him. Ram was already up, gun drawn, the chair skidding backward across the floor.
Another burst of gunfire chewed through the desk, sending splinters flying. Raymundo screamed, curling into himself like a child.
“SHUT UP!” Ram barked, firing two rounds through the broken window.
A black truck peeled out across the street, engine snarling in the dark. Diablo pressed against the wall, breathing hard, eyes narrowed.
“Talamantes,” he growled. “Has to be.”
Ram wiped glass off his arm in one annoyed sweep. “Fucking assholes.”
Raymundo whimpered, “Why are they shooting at us?!”
Neither man answered him.
They weren’t going to.
Mundo didn’t get answers.
Then…
The back-office door opened.
Not kicked.
Not forced.
Just opened. Slow and deliberate.
A large silhouette stepped through the broken glass, neon reflecting off boots and the steel of a gun.
Lane Westfall. The Kount. Sargeant-at-Arms.
Annoyed.
Didn’t duck.
Didn’t hurry.
Didn’t care that bullets had flown seconds before. He was simply assessing the aftermath.
He just swept the room with those pale blue eyes and holstered his weapon in his waistband like the chaos bored him.
“Y’all in one piece?” Lane asked, scanning the scene.
Diablo came back running from outside. “Black truck. No plates. Made a left on Grant. Tires on both bikes are shot up too.”
“Goddamn it!” Ram spat glass onto the floor.
“I always tell you guys to park out back,” said Lane kicking glass to the sides. He looked at Ram. “Get Kolton’s ass up and tell him to start searching for them. Only way out of Dryden is by freeway anyway. Tell him to get on the road. Take Buster with him and get Mack to come pick up the bikes.”
Ram nodded and obeyed immediately going into the back office.
“Talamantes letting us know they’re pissed,” Diablo said.
Lane’s jaw worked, the muscle jumping under his skin. He stepped farther out, glass crunching beneath his boots.
Raymundo lifted his head from behind the counter, shaking. “Should—should we call the cops?!”
Lane didn’t even look at him.
His voice was ice.
“We’re not calling in shit. They’ll be here regardless. Get the fuck up.”
Raymundo shuffled trying to obey instantly but was unable to get up.
“You fat piece of shit,” Lane said and offered his hand to pull him up.
Lane turned back to Diablo.
“Clean it up. Before sunrise.”
Diablo nodded and checked the street again.
“Kolton’s on it,” Ram said behind Lane. “Mack’s on his way too, with the truck.”
Lane nodded and moved toward the doorway, pausing as a distant siren wailed in another neighborhood — unrelated, but it made the night feel tighter.
He looked out into the dark, the faint glow of town lights flickering in his eyes.
His voice dropped low, meant only for the patch-holders in the room:
“Don’s gonna love this.”
Ram smirked. “They should be back with Kait in the afternoon, right?”
Lane’s jaw flexed.
Hard.
“I still don’t like this shit. A woman in the main charter?”
“Klaus and Don both vouch for her though,” Diablo chimed in joining him outside on the street. “Plus, she’s Fang and she took the bite.”
“I don’t believe that for one fucking second”
Diablo’s mouth curled. “You still voted yes.”
Lane’s teeth clicked as he clenched his jaw.
“I did it for Don, and out of respect for Rokkstar’s legacy,” he said coldly. “Not for her.”
He didn’t wait for a reply. “I’ll meet up with Kolton. Get fatass ready to talk to the cops,” he said jerking his chin towards the building “They’ll be here any second.”
He folded his arms and stared into the empty street.
And for a moment— he was more concerned about the new arrival than the damage from the drive-by.
Blood & Venom Playlist
All the songs featured in Blood & Venom
Book I of the KRAIT MC SERIES
