BACK PROPPED AGAINST a huge oak tree, Saint stared at the sawmill through the woods. His assault rifle hung from a strap across his chest, ready to mow down anyone who tried to keep him from Beth. He bounced his heel and tapped a thumb against his leg to try to expel some anxious energy.
It didn’t work
If Copper didn’t give him the go-ahead to charge in the next two minutes, he was going in anyway. Fuck waiting and fuck the plan.
Zach strode over. He and Copper had taken point. They’d distributed weapons and were deciding where everyone would go. When Saint protested, Zach squeezed his shoulder and toldhim he was too close to the situation and too volatile to be in charge.
There was also the small matter of Copper kicking him out of the club.
“This shouldn’t be hard,” Zach said. He rested his palm on the tree near Saint’s head.
Saint nodded, not taking his eyes off the sawmill.
“They’re fucking amateurs. No cameras. No guards. Easy as fuck.”
“Maybe they’re just that cocky.”
Zach shrugged. “Either way, good for us.”
Saint nodded.
“Hey.”
He turned in Zach’s direction.
“Happy for you, brother.” Zach slapped his shoulder.
Saint arched an eyebrow.
“You and Beth. That’s a damn good fit.”
His system couldn’t handle another shock. At least this was a positive one. Saint cast a glance at Copper, then focused back on Zach, who chuckled.
“Give him time. He already feels like shit about what happened the other night. There are a lot of fucked-up thoughts tangled in his head. He’s never gotten over the guilt for what his brother did to Shell. It’s always made him unreasonably protective of those two. He sees you’re good for her. He just needs to admit it.”
Saint grunted.
“Bring it in,” Copper called, waving everyone his way. The fifteen or so of them who’d come to help gathered close. “We go in loud, and we go in aggressive. Get everyone on the floor, face down. We’ll tie ’em up and leave ’em for the cops to deal with. Only shoot to kill if you got no choice. We don’t need the heat right now.”
Murmurs of agreement went around his brothers.
“Okay, let’s roll,” Copper announced.
Fucking finally.
Saint kicked straight into action. He secured the butt of his rifle against his shoulder and marched forward alongside the other MC members. Zach stood at his left, Maverick at his right. Sweeping right and left, he scanned the distance between the woods and the sawmill.
Nothing.
No cameras, no one monitoring the building’s exterior.
Easy as fuck, like Zach said.
Saint reached the door first. He grabbed the handle and whispered, “Three… two… one.” Then he yanked it open and burst through. “Everyone on the fucking floor! Now!”
Chaos erupted. Workers scrambled from the tables, white powder scattering like snow. One guy reached for his waistband, and Maverick put him down hard, boot to the back of the knee, face to the concrete.
A gun went off somewhere to Saint’s left. Someone screamed. He didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. Beth was in here somewhere, and nothing else mattered.
