Page 17 of My Older Biker

Unlocked.

That sits wrong in my gut. Marrow knows we're coming. Has to know after what they did to Perry. Either they're incompetent or they want us inside.

I push the door open anyway.

The interior is vast and dark. High ceilings lost in shadow. My eyes adjust slowly. Shapes emerge from the darkness. Pallets stacked near the walls. A forklift in the far corner. Industrial shelving running down the center of the space creating corridors.

The smell hits me. Oil. Rust. Something chemical and sweet that might be heroin or might be meth. Hard to tell.

I move into the space. Gun out. Finger off the trigger but ready.

Perry died because he was alone. Because no one was watching his back when Marrow came for him. The thought sits in my chest like a stone.

Movement flickers in my peripheral vision.

I turn and there's muzzle flash. The gunshot is deafening in the enclosed space. I drop and roll behind a pallet. The bullet hits metal somewhere behind me with a sharp ping.

Return fire comes from the north entrance. Tate's position. Three quick shots. I hear someone grunt and then the heavy thud of a body hitting concrete.

I come up from behind the pallet. See the shooter. Marrow prospect. Early twenties. He's fumbling to reload his pistol with shaking hands.

I put two rounds in his chest before he can chamber another bullet.

He drops backward. Hits the ground and doesn't move.

That's one.

More gunfire erupts from the back of the warehouse. Multiple weapons. I move toward the sound, using the shelving for cover. My heart is steady. Adrenaline sharpens everything but doesn't cloud it.

I've done this before. Too many times. The mechanics are automatic.

A figure runs from the office area toward a side exit, and even in low light I recognize the throat scar. Sully. The enforcer who escaped during the clubhouse raid.

"Runner," I call out.

Tate appears from between shelving units and cuts Sully off. Fires once. The shot takes Sully in the left shoulder and spins him. He goes down hard on the concrete.

"Secure him," I say.

Tate is on him in seconds. Zip-ties the wrists. Sully is conscious but his face is twisted in pain. Blood spreads across his shirt from the shoulder wound.

Another Marrow member comes out of the office with a shotgun. He sees Roan and Axel before they see him. Raises the weapon.

"Down!" I shout.

Roan drops. The shotgun blast goes over his head. Axel doesn't drop. Steps sideways and fires three times. Center mass. The man with the shotgun collapses.

That's two dead.

The warehouse goes quiet. The ringing in my ears from close-quarters gunfire makes the silence feel hollow.

"Clear north," Cain calls.

"Clear back," Axel responds.

I move through the remaining space. Check corners and shadows. Find the office Cain identified in his briefing. Inside there's a desk with papers scattered across it. Filing cabinets. And along the back wall, approximately fifty vacuum-sealed bricks of heroin stacked on metal shelving.

"Found the product," I call.