Page 88 of Welker

“In the alley, twenty feet to the right,” Sandrine came back.

“Acknowledged. Once Opal gives the word The Beast is in flight, I want you to get that front door open for her to fly it through.”

“Copy that, Chief,” Sandrine replied.

Welker knew things could get dicey from here. If the perps were hiding behind the counter with the hostages, they’d get a load of the nosy drone, and there’d be a stand-off, for sure.

It would be up to Mason how that eventuality would be handled.

Welk heard the door swish open, then the quiet fan of The Beast heading their way in the otherwise dead silence.

Welk had confirmation it wasn’t just him. Everyone was holding their breaths. Waiting…waiting…

“Clear, Chief. Hostages only,” Opal’s voice rang out, loud and clear. “I repeat. There are hostages only behind the counter, bound and gagged on the floor.”

Welker and Mike moved in quickly, with others on their team covering them as they cautiously leaned over, weapons poised just in case, and…

“Son of a bitch,” Mike swore.

Five victims were huddled on the floor, hog-tied, with duct tape over their mouths.

“Five vics, all alive,” Welk growled out, leaping over the counter with ease and bending down. The woman he landed next to, regarded him with large, terrified eyes.

“It’s okay,” he spoke gently. “You’re safe now.”

The woman nodded her understanding, and while Welk carefully undid her bindings and eased the duct tape off her mouth, one of the other captives who’d been divested of his bindings first by another team member, was already talking.

“They came in with guns,” the man said in an accent he recognized from his sister-in-law, Sabira. “I could see them through the one-way glass in my office. There were four of them. That’s when I dialed 911. A masked man came in and I thought he was immediately going to shoot me, but he nodded and gestured to the phone like he was giving me permission to tell the dispatcher about them. Only after I managed to say that, did he grab my phone away and bring me out here, to stand with my employees and these two customers.” He indicated one man and the woman Welk had assisted.

Welk froze, replaying what the store owner had said. His mind was busy drawing conclusions, and he didn’t like what he was imagining. Not one bit.

Mike continued the questioning. “What did they do then? What did they take?”

Welker’s gaze went to the register. The drawer was still closed.

Fuck.

“That’s the thing,” the man continued, as the team, one by one, got the other victims loose. “They didn’t take a thing. They confiscated our phones, then made us all come behind here where they tied us up. It was all done so quickly.”

One woman raised her hand to speak.

Sin laid a comforting hand on the woman’s shoulder. “Go ahead. It’s okay,” she told her softly.

The woman cleared her throat. “I did hear one of them say, ‘that should keep them busy for a while’, whatever that was supposed to mean, before they left us alone.”

“I think, as soon as they were finished with us, which only took a very short amount of time, they went out the back door,” the first man added. “I heard them disengaging those locks, and a few minutes later I heard the sound of motorcycles leaving the alley.”

Welker and Mason looked at each other.

“It was all a diversion,” Welk growled, voicing his thoughts out loud. “Dammit. It was the 227 MC, and they’re after Moira.”

Welker heard Mason and the rest of the team agreeing with his assessment while he drew his phone from his pocket. He had no idea exactly what they were saying because his focus was all on his woman. His hands shook as he hit her number.

Please, please, please, he implored to whatever god might be listening. Let her answer and be fine.

His hopes were dashed when the phone rang and rang and rang, then went to voicemail.

“Mase,” Welker bit out over the open comm. “I just tried Moira, and?—”

---