“Well, it is almost two in the morning,” Dixon reasoned.
“She always answers. Always.” It was the most serious I’d ever heard Zayn be. Though, to be fair, business with Zayn typically lasted all of five minutes and the rest of the time was some outlandish party or another.
“Okay,” Huck said, picking up on his tone. “You two sober?”
“Yeah, no partying tonight,” I said.
Losing Kylo and Coast to relationships meant it was a little tamer around here a lot of the time, with only me, my brother, York, and Velle around. Velle’s ass was always suggesting chill nights, much to my brother’s disappointment. Me, well, I could go either way.
“Anyone else up?”
“No, they crashed an hour back,” I said.
“Alright. Dixon, go to the broker’s house. I’m assuming you know the location?” he asked Zayn.
“I do.”
“Caymen, go to the warehouse where the guns are stored. If shit looks sideways at either place, call. I’m gonna round up some of the others and head over too. But you two get a head start.”
I would normally argue that I wanted my brother and me to go together. But since joining the club, I could sense a bit of resentment from Dixon about how I was always trying to protect him still.
I couldn’t help that shit. It was in my blood. But I understood that he felt like it didn’t look good to the others. So I’d been trying to back off a bit.
If this broker woman was not answering, I would bet good money on her either being dead already… or simply not home. Dixon wouldn’t need my backup there.
“Grab my keys and a gun,” I called to Dixon as he moved in the clubhouse to get his own.
“I know you don’t like being separated—”
“Pretty sure the warehouse is where the action would be, if there is any. Maybe this chick got lucky and didn’t want to answer her phone mid-fuck,” I said, shrugging.
“Maybe,” Huck agreed. “But Zayn isn’t usually someone to overreact. So we’re gonna be smart and thorough here.”
“Got it,” I agreed as Dixon came out and handed me my gun and keys. “We’ll call if we see anything,” I assured him.
We got our addresses from Zayn, then took off.
Both locations were in Miami, so for most of the drive, we went side by side, only breaking off when Dixon’s turn was a few blocks away from my own. Close enough for me to maybe even be able to hear the gunshots if something popped off.
The row of warehouses I was sent to was set back from the road, situated sideways so you had no way to view anything but a solid wall unless you went into the parking lot itself. There was no way to do that on a bike and not be obvious about it, so I drove half a block down, parked, and climbed off.
It wasn’t until I was rounding the side of the building that I noticed the police cruiser sitting just outside the unit I was pretty sure Zayn had sent me to check out.
Great.
Was there a body in there?
Was it the broker’s?
Maybe more importantly, were the guns in there?
Sure, Huck had some palms greased in both Golden Glades and Miami, but there was no way we could convince anyone to leave a score that big. That was some career-making shit.
I reached for my phone, dialing Huck as I moved behind one of those giant public utility boxes to stay mostly out of view.
“Don’t tell me shit went sideways that fast.”
“Pulled up to the warehouse. A cop is here. Warehouse door is open.”
