Page 1 of Static

CHAPTER 1

Static

"Get ready for a war."

It's been coming, so Lockout's statement didn't surprise me. We all knew it, but fuck me—I hadn't been expecting it to arrive on my face and ribs. I got jumped this morning when I went to the office, and ended up having all this shit kick off now because of it. Lockout was pissed. Fremont had finally fucked up badly enough that we were making him our main focus. And now I'd killed one of his officers. Not that I knew who he was when he was trying to brain me with a fucking tire iron. That type of approach tended to give you a little bit of tunnel vision. Consequences were an afterthought.

It was self-defense. I couldn't argue that in court though. None of this would see the light of day if we had anything to say about it.

"What about him?" I asked, nodding down to where the dead body was.

We were all circled around the trunk of my car. There were too many women and children around here at any given time to not care that it was in full view. Not to mention Fremont. The fucking district attorney had been hounding us for long enough. There were just too many things that had trumped him in importance, but all those things were taken care of now. I wondered if he knew the shit storm he'd just unleashed on himself. I also wondered if he had sanctioned this attack on me. I couldn't imagine the fuckwits this cop was hanging around with—they certainly weren't police officers—were smart enough to make a move like that on their own. Fremont was sending a message. He was finished waiting, too.

"Butcher, Toxic, Hell, dump the body," Lock told them. His eyes met mine. "You need to see Crash Cart?"

Butcher swore low under his breath at the old Army Medic's name. "Better not. He'll end up amputating a leg without your permission."

Crash wasn't that bad. A bit odd. But he was a damn good surgeon and he kept us from having to go to the hospital when we were injured. "No," I replied. "I'm fine. I can help get rid of the body-" I broke off as Lock shook his head.

"No. You better go get cleaned up before-" He stopped, then swore. "Too late," he muttered. "Church tonight at five. We're coming up with a way to finish this." One side of his mouth tipped up into a wry grin. "Good luck."

"Huh?" I asked, having no idea what he was talking about. The cryptic fucker just chuckled and walked off.

Toxic appeared next to me in that creepy silent way of his. He was holding his fist out and slowly waving it around my face. "What the fuck are you doing?" I swatted it away.

"Seeing if your face is a magnet for fists. Since, you know…"

"Fuck off."

Hellfire shut the trunk of my car with a bang. "Keys?"

Sighing, I cast a sad glance at my car. It was a birthday gift to myself a few years ago. The Jaguar was crunched and mangled on one side, the paint job beyond saving where those assholes had scraped their vehicle down the side to try to force me off the road. I handed my keys over to him, then shot him a serious look. "Don't let those two assholes drive." We both looked over at Butcher and Toxic.

Toxic's brows shot upward. "Seriously? Looks like your fucking car got into it with a bulldozer and you still won't let me drive her?" I shrugged and shot him a smirk. "I flew helicopters, you know," he added. "Machines worth millions of dollars apiece and the military trusted me enough for that."

"Didn't you tell a story about crashing one once?" Ricochet asked.

Toxic sputtered. "That wasn't my fault. It was-"

"Get goin'" Hush interrupted, his deep voice filled with amusement. "Don't need that body here any longer than it has to be."

Everyone started to scatter, going their own ways. I watched as my brutalized car drove away. I was less angry about my own damn bruises than my car's.

Hush cleared his throat.

I looked over at him. "What's up?"

He nodded to something behind me, gave me an empathetic look, then walked away.

Turning, I froze when I found Gwen standing there. She'd been waiting for me, a pretty smile on her face. The minute she caught sight of me, the smile slipped off her lips and fear crashed over her expression. She wrapped her arms around her son, Sean, and pulled her daughter, Grace, closer to her side.

Shit.

"Gwen," I called out. I looked like hell. The men hadn't done any permanent damage. Not like I had to them, but I had enough bruises and cuts to know I'd been in a fight. Not to mention my damn suit was all ripped up and dirty.

She shook her head, the sunlight glinting off her dark blonde hair. I started toward her, knowing she was upset. She'd been jumpy, and had every right to be, since everything had gone down with her ex. Trent, that fucker, had hurt her badly. Seeing her in the hospital for a week afterward made me want to go kill him a second time even though her brother, Ricochet, had already taken care of it by getting Fremont involved. Things seemed to be slowly getting better, and then we had the run in with the mafia at the Expo Center.

Now that time I'd gotten the shit kicked out of me. It was a lot harder to fight when I had my brothers' old ladies there by my side and in danger. One wrong move could have made those assholes go after the women instead of me. I'd taken the beating to stall. Though I'd done my damndest to fight back I was severely outnumbered.

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