Page 71 of Claimed By the Biker Brothers

Jagger frowns, looking left and right again. “He’ll see us. The service road links back to the highway, just farther up ahead. We need a diversion.”

“Got you covered,” I say, then spot one of the warehouse administrators coming out of the building. “Hey! Jay! My good man!”

As soon as he sees me, Jay lights up with the kind of excitement a kid experiences upon meeting Santa for the first time. He’s a go-getter who’s always in a positive mood. He’s also a little on the crazy side, which may work in our favor today.

“What’s up, fellas?” he calls as he walks over, his grey tee shirt stretching over a beer belly. “How can I be of service today? Surprise inspection? I got all the trucks up to speed with their permits and technical reviews. Not a hair out of place!”

“Actually, we need your help with something else,” I reply, shaking his hand. I appreciate the firm grip. “See that SUV back there? Look discretely, please, Jay.”

His glance darts past me, pupils dilating as he spots the car. “Yeah, I see it.”

“The driver of that vehicle has been tasked with tailing us. It’s likely a federal agent. But where we’re going, we can’t have that kind of attention following us.”

“You boys up to something hinky?” he asks with a chuckle. But it’s not his usual laughter. He sounds nervous.

“Actually, no,” I say. “We’re trying to stop the Hughes folks from doing something that’ll ruin all the progress we’ve made so far. They’re dealing out of Humboldt Park again, as I’m sure you’ve heard.”

“And by the train depot out by Easton,” Jay says with a deep sigh. “Word on the street is there’s a deal going down today.”

Jagger gives him a hard look. “You’ve been keeping your ear to the ground?”

“Hey, man, I used to work for those people. I keep in touch if only to make sure I don’t get dragged into that mess again,” Jays says. “Y’all gave me a chance when nobody cared about what happened to me. Y’all helped me get clean and hold down a decent job. If there’s anything I can do to help you protect what you’ve built here over the years, I’m your man.”

“Whatwe’vebuilt,” Knox gently corrects him. “Do include yourself in that statement, Jay. We wouldn’t have come this far without good men like you, so don’t sell yourself short.”

“Easton, you said,” I mutter, a plan already forming in my head. “That’s just a few miles up the road from here.”

“We could definitely check it out, verify the word on the street,” Jagger agrees, “then hit Humboldt Park and see what’s going down there as well. But we still need eyes off our asses.”

“I’ll handle it,” Jay says and nods curtly.

I give him a curious look. “I’d love to hang back and watch, but I trust you won’t get yourself into any kind of legal trouble, buddy.”

“Nah, I’m just gonna waffle his ears off ’til you’re in the clear. How long do you need?”

“Two minutes, tops,” Knox says. “Without revving our engines to draw the Fed’s attention, we’ll have to go a tad slower until we’re off the service road.”

“Alright. I’ll give you five just to be sure,” Jay replies and pats me on the shoulder, then walks out of the warehouse yard and makes his way along the edge of the road, headed straight for that SUV.

“Let’s roll,” I say, briefly glancing in my side mirror.

Cautiously, we ride around and all the way to the back of the warehouse structure. It’s big enough and crowded with trucks and workers’ personal vehicles so we can easily stay out of sight. We slip up the service road, a narrow artery with gravel and a clear view of the highway toward Easton. Glancing back, our DEA agent is out of sight, likely busy with Jay.

Once we reach the end of the service road, careful not to rev our engines too much, I look back again. My view of the SUV is partially obstructed, but I can still see Jay talking and gesturing at the driver as though he’s irritated or just being overly dramatic. Either way, it works for us.

I lead the way back onto the highway.

A couple of hundred yards later, I finally hit the gas and go hard and fast, with Knox and Jagger riding beside me. That was just the first stage of our mission today. We don’t know if Spalding has other agents waiting around town to track us if he loses us, but we assume the possibility and move accordingly.

Rising ahead to our right is Easton’s sprawling train yard that connects to the main line on the other side of Redwood. No passenger trains pass through this place, only freight trains. They’re loud and loaded with all sorts of hardware and fuel tanks, insanely long and powered by behemoth engines.

We take advantage of the noise of one such giant rumbling through the yard to sneak in. By the time the last train car has passed, we’re pulled up behind an abandoned security checkpoint with a dingy wooden cabin.

“This is a big place,” Jagger mutters as he takes his gloves and helmet off.

I check the gun holstered underneath my jacket. We’re packing 24/7 again, which doesn’t give me the greatest joy, but given everything that’s been bubbling to the surface of Redwood, it might help keep us alive in the coming weeks.

“If there’s a drug deal going down here, it’ll likely be over on the north side,” I say, pointing in that direction. “We’ve got the tracks to cross and plenty of stationary cars to keep us out of sight.”

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