Page 28 of Rage

My heart hammers against my chest, wishing to reach out to the girl of my dreams. I can’t lose her. Death wouldn’t be a strong enough force to keep me from Daisy, but I’m man enough to admit that it would take time for our souls to find each other again. The thought of going any stretch of time without her scares me more than facing any god or devil on the other side.

It’s almost painful pulling my lips away from hers. I don’t go far. Pressing my forehead to Daisy’s, I whisper breathlessly, “Don’t be rash, ok? I need you more than anything else in this world. “Without you, there’s no reason for any of this.”

I wish I could claim I was some sort of hero. The reality is, I wouldn’t be risking my life for anyone under any circumstances if Daisy wasn’t the one leading the charge.

There’s a pause before she replies, “We’ll see each other soon, Dre. I promise.”

There’s no missing her hesitation or how useless that promise is. Living isn’t a certainty, not with what we do. But in moments like this, we can at least pretend we have control of fate.

“Come back and I’ll do that thing you like,” I add, sweetening the deal.

Daisy chuckles. “I nearly waterboarded you then, Dre. I don’t think?—”

“If I can make your pussy wet enough to drown me, then I know I’m doing something right.”

Daisy laughs softly before planting a kiss at the corner of my mouth before turning and taking off after Wyatt and Kingston.

Not wanting to waste any more time, I race after Owen who hooked a right at the fork just like we discussed. I catch up to him easily. My long legs, thick with muscle, will always keep me the fastest in the group.

“She’s going to be ok,” Owen promises as I shoot by him.

I don’t reply. Words are just words. My heart won’t settle until Daisy is back in my arms. In any case, I’m pretty sure it says that more for himself than for me.

Together, the two of us run down the narrow lane. It’s not wide enough for a car, so I’m not sure why it’s here, but I’m glad Owen found it during his search. It winds through the woods that became wild once this place was abandoned. Through the vines and shrubbery, I can see a few spotlights within the shipyard. They’re brighter than the streetlamps we’d been using to guide our way on the main road toward the dock, but there are even fewer lights on than on the road. We follow this narrow trail for a bit. Eleven minutes, to be exact. I keep checking my watch, needing to track the time.

“There!” Owen whispers anxiously.

He points and I follow the direction of his finger. Up ahead is a large electrical box. I nod, though I don’t think Owen notices it. He slows down, understanding his task in this mission. As I shoot past him, he calls out softly, “Be careful, Dre! I’ll work quickly then I’ll be there to join in the fray.”

I know he will, I’m not worried. Owen will do his best to give the others an advantage they’ll need. Leaving my friend behind, I keep moving. My pace quickens now that I only have myself to worry about. The path draws closer to the shipyard until there’s only a tall chain-linked fence separating me from it. I round the perimeter until I see what I need.

A stack of old, rusted shipping containers is situated close to the fence. A few others are stacked close to it, but the tallest one is eight containers high.

Perfect.

With a soft grunt, I slow to a stop so I can weave my fingers into the chain-link and heave myself upward. The climb is slow, unsteady, and the fence groans beneath my weight. I have to be pretty far from the actual loading docks, away from whereanyone can hear me, but I wince with each creak and groan as the fence sways all the same. Sound carries in a place like this.

When I get to the top of the fence, I pull out my bolt cutters and, with some difficulty, finagle them to cut the barbed wire at the top. After making enough room for myself to slip over without getting sliced, I shove them back into my backpack and cross over. Once on the other side, I push off the fence and launch myself at the stack of containers.

My fingers wrap around the metal poles attached to them and I grip them hard as I slide down a few feet. My descent halts a moment later. Trying to keep my heavy breaths muted, I grit my teeth and begin the ascent to the top of them. Every muscle in my body protests as I work my way up.

I heave a sigh of relief when I get to the top of the stack, but I don’t stop once up there. I crawl on hands and knees toward the front of them. When I get to the edge, I stare out at the rest of the shipyard. There are a few other stacks of old containers lying around. Judging by the condition they're in, they’ve been here for a while. None are as tall as this one, giving me a large advantage.

The one I’m looking for is a few hundred yards to my left. It stills on the edge of the dock and stands out amongst the rest. Not only because it’s clearly new, lacking any sign of age or being out in the elements for long periods of time, but because it’s surrounded by twenty or so men.

Fucking hell… twenty verses five? This feels like a shitshow waiting to happen.

There’s no time to steal a steadying breath. Carefully, I lower myself onto my stomach, then drop my backpack beside me. Bringing my rifting around, I set it up on a small tripod, then press my eye to the scope. I under-counted before. There are twenty-two, not twenty guys. I’d missed a few that were walking around. There are several guys slinking around the abandonedcontainers, searching for any signs of trouble. There’s an expensive-looking, black SUV sitting right beside the container. Two guys sit on top of the hood, chatting away as if nothing’s wrong. They’re young and, as I study them through the scope, unharmed. At least those two will be easy to take out.

Using the scope, I search for my friends. They should be on the property by now. We’re running out of time before the transportation crew gets here. If we’re still here by the time they arrive, we won’t make it out of the shipyard—that’s a guarantee.

There’s no sign of them. Unease creeps up my spine. It tries to spread, but I know better than to allow that to happen. They’re there, sneaking around the shipping containers. I just know it.

“Come on, Owen…” I mutter, knowing he’s working on the distraction.

I lick my dry lips and while I wait, I pick out my first hit.

Chapter 5

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