Page 42 of Static

"Not what I was expectin','' Hush said as we pulled up in front of the dilapidated barn. There were a few more outbuildings and an old ranch house, but it looked deserted.

"Where the fuck are the guards?" Butcher asked.

"Inside," Priest replied, eyeing the building. "No way they're trusting this to cameras and security alarms. Not if Jerry was telling the truth."

"The fact that they're inside instead of out here," Lock said, shaking his head, "just tells me we're dealing with fucking amateurs."

We were off our bikes and grabbing rifles from the truck as fast as possible, because even if these people were amateurs, they couldn't have missed the sound of our motorcycles coming up the road. It would have been better to roll up in the pickup, but convincing bikers to leave their motorcycles behind was blasphemy.

It was too quiet out here. We were down on the south side of Tucson, possibly even edging into Sahuarita. There were no suburbs and track homes out here though. This was a part of the city where you could still come and purchase land. There was no way to tell how many acres this farm was, but it was away from the city lights and neighboring homes, which made it perfect for what was going to go down here tonight.

"I thought for sure we were going to end up in a warehouse," Hellfire muttered, eyes flicking around as we moved toward the house.

"Think they're sleeping?" Ricochet asked.

"It doesn't make sense," I muttered. "I don't fucking like it."

No sooner had the words left my mouth than the gunfire split the night. We had naturally split up and fanned out, and though it had been easy to hear one another in the quiet of darkness, we weren't standing directly next to each other. Instead, we were staggered, and now we were all running for cover.

I ducked down behind an old pickup truck with a flat tire. As soon as the shots stopped, I popped my head over the hood. A single gunshot rang out and I ducked as the round whizzed past my head. "Okay. They're definitely not asleep."

"Give me some cover," Priest called out somewhere from my left.

"Go," I called as I stood and started firing shots toward the top right window in the house. I wasn't the only one, because more shots echoed around me and the sound of shattering glass was easy enough to hear. Our group was keeping every window covered so Priest could make his way to high ground.

His shadow ran off toward the barn, and as soon as he disappeared inside, I squatted down once more. Everything fell silent.

"Everyone good?"

We sounded off in low voices to his question. But we didn't move. We were waiting. Heading out into the open yard between where we were and the house ensured one, or more, of us would get shot.

A low whistle sounded and I sucked in a breath as I moved around the truck and into the open. We had to draw them out. The rustling of the dry grass around me was all the warning I got that my brothers were moving with me. I could make out their shadows in the moonlight, if I bothered to look, but I didn't. My rifle was up, the butt tucked into my shoulder, as I watched the house for signs of movement. Priest might not have time to squeeze off rounds at every fucking person in there if they moved in unison. Which meant the rest of us needed to be prepared.

"Fuck this."

Shit.

"Butcher, don't you fucking-"

Lock's warning was too late. Butcher's roar was like a crazed beast as he ran toward the house. "That's one way to draw them out," I growled as I swung my rifle from window to window on the top story of the house, searching for something to shoot at. There. I didn't have the chance to fire.

A crack thundered through the night, and I had to stop myself from checking that it wasn't a bolt of lightning from some ancient, long forgotten god. I knew it wasn't. It was just Priest, doing what he did, and sending one of our enemies straight to his deity. Who knew whether the guy was headed up, or down, but it didn't fucking matter to me as long as it wasn't one of us. These men were out here, protecting drugs that would later be scattered on our streets. They didn't deserve our mercy.

Despite our plan, we weren't going to let these drugs get distributed. There were already too many circulating out there, and these would be destroyed, one way or another. Once we used them to suit our purposes, of course.

The front door flew open, and I cursed under my breath and side stepped as a man came out, firing so chaotically that the only worry we had was catching a stray bullet. His rifle was a semi-auto, which meant he only had one bullet per trigger pull, but he was slamming that trigger so fast and hard, it was almost one continuous sound.

"Fucking asshole." The barrel of my rifle swung his way and I let my training take over. My trigger pulls were smooth and fast, and my iron sights never wavered from my target. His body jerked several times before his gun dropped to the ground. His body followed with a soft thud.

Butcher had already run around the back, and the others were now dealing with more men streaming out of the house like ants. Priest's M40 sniper rifle was louder than all the rest, but it was a cacophony of sound as we moved toward cover and shot at the advancing enemy.

"Down!"

I dropped as soon as I heard the warning, knowing someone was looking out for me. A grenade flew over my head and landed on the porch. The explosion was so close I could feel the heat of the blast on the back of my neck, and bits of wood peppered my face. I looked over my shoulder and gave Butcher an incredulous look. "I don't know whether to ask where you came from," I shouted at him, my ears ringing so loud I could barely hear myself, "or where the fuck you got a grenade!"

His smile was wide, his teeth gleaming in the light from the fire that was licking at the house. "Ask stupid questions, win stupid prizes!" he yelled, directly into my ear as he pulled me to my feet.

"Goddamn it, Butcher!" Lock bellowed from nearby. "There's no way that's not going to bring the cops down on our heads."

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