That got my attention. “What was the objective?”
“We were supposed to grab her. Trade her. Leverage. Dunbar figured he could use her to negotiate. Trade her for access. Maybe scare you into backing off.”
I stepped forward. “And if we didn’t?”
“If we couldn’t extract…eliminate,” he gasped.
The fury that tore through me was so white-hot I nearly saw red. But I held it in check. Barely.
“Give me his location,” I growled.
He hesitated.
Cruze’s knife stopped spinning.
The man’s eyes darted to him, then back to me. “Old feed store. Six miles out. They’re moving everything tonight.”
That was all we needed.
King’s voice was cold. “You know what happens now.”
The guy was shaking. “I gave you what you wanted.”
I didn’t stay to handle the little bastard. He wasn’t the one I wanted.
“Ink and Flint will deal with disposal,” Blaze assured me. “We’ll roll out in ten.”
I nodded and headed back to the clubhouse, straight to the armory. Those of us who were armed reloaded, and the others got outfitted.
Then we were on the move. Ready for war.
Blaze met us on the way out, carrying a burn bag—accelerant, ignition bricks, gear for a fast exit.
The feed store was more than just a building. It was a fucking fortress, but not for long. We cut the power and moved in fast. They had guards posted—well-trained and well-equipped. We didn’t care.
They opened fire.
We answered back.
It was chaos. Sharp, brutal, and fast.
I dropped one coming around the corner, then snapped the neck of the second who lunged at King. Tomcat cleared the catwalk. Rebel shot out the floodlights.
When the last body hit the ground, the store was dark, still, and full of the stench of gunpowder.
I looked around at the bodies littering the floor and felt fury and guilt pummeling me. I’d checked each corpse outside, too. No Dunbar. The fucker better not have escaped again, free to rebuild somewhere else and put more lives in danger.
Cross whistled low and shook his head, drawing my attention. He’d been examining the main room where we’d gathered. I glanced around and saw what he’d picked up on.
“Fuck,” I muttered. This place was more than we’d expected—it was a whole fucking operation. Tables, boxes, documents, and more weapons than we’d seen at the depot.
King started to say something, but paused when we heard a noise from behind a door a few feet away.
A slow, sinister smile cut across my face. I stalked to the door and tested the knob. Locked. A second later, the door came crashing down when my boot hit just the right spot.
And there he was. The evil motherfucker who’d almost taken everything from me. He was plastered up against the back wall of the storage closet, between rows of shelves holding more cases of shit that had no business being in anyone’s hands.
“K-Kevlar,” he stammered. “It’s been a long time.”
