“The owner thinks we’re checking out this location for storage for our film company,” Mick said. “So if he comes out here, you guys strip down and I’ll start shooting video like we’re shooting a porn.”
Ty laughed, but I asked, “What do you mean, comes out here?”
“Relax. This is corporate. Their headquarters is in San Fran, and we have a key code to get in. No one’s coming out here. Hell, I’m sure they think themselves lucky anyone is renting this piece of shit.”
I took a breath. “Come on, then. Let’s get this place set up before Tara and Kyle get here.”
Mick entered a code in the keypad. The door took us into a reception space, and Mick guided us through there, into a hallway leading to the main part of the warehouse. He flicked on a switch that illuminated a series of overhanging lights casting down into an open space with some old machinery parts. The second story had a railed walkway that encircled the floor.
“The last company here manufactured plastic containers—bottles, mainly,” Mick noted. “There’s plenty of rooms upstairs. We’ll divvy them out and stuff them with air mattresses. There’s a fridge that just needs to be plugged in over in the old break room down here.”
“Okay, then,” I said. “Let’s head into town and fetch supplies. I’ve got some traps to set up.”
I sketched out a preliminary idea of how we’d use the space before Ty and I left for a nearby shopping center. We picked up similar supplies as I had at the cabin, but this time, I made sure to grab some extra chains. I decided to go ahead and let him help me with the traps. I could tell he wanted to be of assistance, and it would mean we got to spend more time together—not that we lacked that, but I enjoyed whenever we had a chance to work together.
By the time we finished, Kyle and Tara had arrived and were setting up the bedroom spaces. Then we got some food in us and debriefed on the details we’d been researching about the current Blackmore Clan before I went over the next important step in gathering intel: Pearce fucking Kyzer.
* * *
Kyleand I were en route to my contact.
It was the first time we were on our own—out of earshot of the other guys—since he and the rest of F5 showed up. As he sat in the driver’s seat, remaining unusually quiet, I waited for him to bring it up. Since he wouldn’t, I figured I had to be the one. “You’re not exactly subtle about still being pissed at me.”
He clenched his jaw. “Subtlety was never my strength. You know that.”
“I had to leave the bureau at some point.”
“I never had to be happy about that, did I?” His words were harsh, expressing what I knew were his real feelings on the subject.
“The company was changing too much, Kyle. Too many new faces. Bunch of suits I don’t trust.”
“And so like a good leader, you leave your team to fend for itself?”
It was a hot poker to my chest. “Like a good leader, I knew the skills I’d given my team would keep them safe. And if they ever needed any help, they’d find me. Same as you did for me.” I spoke more severely than I’d intended, but if he was going to try and guilt me, he had another thing coming.
“I don’t want to get into this, Liam. I’m here. I’m helping. Don’t judge me for not believing you’d do the same for me now that you’re sitting on your cushy pension and benefits.”
It was evident he was trying to rile me, but I wasn’t having this fight again. Not another screaming match about whether I wanted to be with the IPB. I’d made my choice, and the only issue I had was that he didn’t respect it.
“Kyle, you’re a stubborn asshole, you know that.” He started to say something to defend himself, but I stepped in quickly. “But that’s what I’ve always respected about you. Same as when I was your boss, I don’t ask that you agree with all my decisions. I just ask that you respect that it’s my call to make and that, regardless, we can still act like a team.”
He tilted his head as though popping a crick in his neck…or maybe just pushing away some particularly annoying thought. “Well, you can turn your back on us all you want, but even so, I’d never do the same to you. As you can see, I’m here. I’m in it. I may love you to death, but I also hate your guts, and I’ve already learned that’s just something I have to live with.”
It wasn’t fine. Not even close.
But I figured it was the best we were going to get, especially as we were already pulling up to our destination—an outlet shopping space with a couple of thrift stores, a donut shop, a waxing joint, and a small gym. We slipped out of the car and beelined for the building that had FIT MANIA inscribed in the signage over it. It was a front for Kyzer’s prostitution ring.
I reached back and ensured easy access to the handgun holstered beneath my pants. Just in case we needed a little fire.
We entered the gym.
Empty, and the equipment looked like it came from one of the thrift stores in the same lot, only to give the appearance of a gym—the front operation. We headed to the reception desk, where a guy in his early twenties lounged back in his chair, keying on a black tablet device. As we approached, he finally glanced up at us before sitting erect, a broad smile playing across his lips. “Well, hello there,” he said, sounding particularly friendly.
“Kyzer around today?”
“He’s on the clock right now, but if you guys are looking for a good time, Marc’s available.”
“Marc?” Kyle asked.
