He steps out of the vehicle, and even from this distance, I see the smug confidence on his face. He’s wearing civilian clothes, but the badge clipped to his belt catches the light. A police captain, walking into an illegal arms deal like he owns the place.
“Ghost, you getting this?” I breathe.
“Every second. Multiple cameras. This footage is being backed up to three separate servers in real-time. Even if they destroy our equipment, we’ve got copies.”
Rourke walks straight to Lorenzo, and they shake hands like old friends. The visual is damning. A corrupt cop and a crime boss, meeting in the shadows while the city sleeps.
“Audio?” I ask.
“Patching it through now.”
Lorenzo’s voice comes through the comm, tinny but clear. “Everything’s clear on your end, Captain?”
Rourke’s laugh makes my skin crawl. “Everything’s clear. No interference tonight. My people won’t be anywhere near this district.”
“Good. We can’t afford complications. Not with this shipment. And we have the women coming in tomorrow, another container full.”
“I’ll make sure that cargo gets through easily as well. Can you put one of the women aside for me as usual? I want to have a little fun!”
I jerk my head back in disgust, rage filling me as Lorenzo chuckles. “Of course, same kind as the last?”
Rourke dips his head. “You know how I like ’em.”
Dante pulls out a piece of paper, reading through what I can only imagine is a list of names or an itinerary. “We have a couple coming in that suit your requirements, Cap. Small, compliant, and young. We’ll make sure at least one of them is delivered to the same hotel as normal.”
Rourke tilts his head, like he is pondering something. “If you have a couple… send both. Why not have double the fun?”
Lorenzo and Dante chuckle. “Done! We’ll see you tomorrow, Cap.”
My stomach crawls, wanting more than ever to take this fucker out. My hands curl into fists. This is the man who had Marcus killed. The man who’s been using his badge to cover for traffickers, dealers, murderers.
The man who thought he was untouchable.
Not anymore.
Lorenzo pulls an envelope from his jacket, thick and obviously filled with cash. He hands it to Rourke without hesitation.
Rourke doesn’t even try to hide it. He opens the envelope, thumbs through the bills, and pockets them with a satisfied nod. “Pleasure doing business with you.”
“Maria,” I murmur into the comm. “Surely, we have what we need?”
Her voice is sharp, controlled. Professional. “On my mark.” A pause. “Sin, are your brothers clear? Civilians?”
I scan the area one more time. It’s empty. Just Alliance members and oneextremelycorrupt cop. “Brothers ready. Civilians clear.”
Jake Morrison’s voice filters through. “Rolling. All cameras live. We’re streaming to every major news outlet.”
Maria takes a breath. Then, with the weight of justice behind it, she rallies, “Go, go, go!”
Flood lights slam on, illuminating the warehouse like a stage. The Alliance members freeze, blinded, scrambling for weapons.
“Las Vegas police! Drop your weapons! Hands where we can see them!”
Maria’s team moves in, tactical and coordinated. Officers in full gear flood the lot from three directions, weapons drawn, voices shouting commands. It’s not aggressive—it’s professional, controlled, and exactly what we planned.
The Alliance tries to scatter. Some drop their weapons immediately, hands up. Others make the mistake of reaching for guns. But my brothers and I are already there, cutting off escape routes, herding them back toward the center where Maria’s team can contain them.
It’s not a gunfight.
