Chapter Thirty-Three
HOWARD SUTTON
CHIEF OF POLICE
Babylon Police Department
“Nobody move!” Winnie shouted, her voice sharp.
“On your knees!” an ATF officer yelled.
“Hands behind your head!” another cried.
There were noises everywhere. Grunts, cuss words, angry faces, and bloodstained skin all around.
With my gun aimed in the air, I scanned the crowds, seeking out The Hounds’ patch on leather and only seeing Navarro Rifles tattoos and colors at every turn.
“I said nobodymove!” Before I could turn to see who Winnie was yelling at, a shot rang out, followed by a heavy, guttural moan that sounded like three-hundred pounds of man flesh falling to the ground.
Then I saw Jedd.
Followed by Slater.
Kenny, too.
Relief flooded me when Moose’s long hair was pushed from his face, his hands rising slowly in surrender.
My eyes, slowly adjusting to the diluted light, looked uptoward the faux altar that had been placed inside the ropes of a ground-level boxing ring, and then they fell to the blood-splattered floor.
I saw the body of Travis Gatlin first, and I swallowed in relief, unable to scream with joy because of the law enforcement around me.
A small whimper came from somewhere nearby, and my eyes followed the sound, finding Ayda on the floor with her head pressed against another as she ran her hand over a lifeless body.
The body I soon realized belonged to Drew Tucker.
“Jesus Christ, no,” I breathed out, unable to stop the cold shiver of dread that spread down my spine, turning my toes cold as I slowly lowered my gun. “No.”
