Page 108 of Beautifully Wounded

“What’s going on?” I ask again.

“That’s our warning system for the pigs.” She releases me and moves to the door, cracking it and glancing out.

“The pigs?”

“Cops.” She turns back to face me. “They are likely doing a lockdown compliance check, which means all the men that left are going to get into trouble for breaching lockdown rules. But you’ll be fine. Just stay in here out of the way. Maybe hide in the bathroom, just in case. I’ll come back for you once we get rid of them.”

I hear her words, but they sound so far away as the rush of my blood thunders past my ears.

The police are here, and Ringo isn’t.

I’ve already learned my lesson about the police. It was a bitter pill, that’s for sure, but when I went to them for help after the first… group attack… they made it very clear that they weren’t there for my protection.

No.

They are there to protect themselves and their families. And if they are here and know who I am, then no one can protect me.

Not even Ringo.

24

The streets are like a ghost town as we speed through them, our six vans loaded with eight to ten men in each, all armed to the nines with extra weapons stored along the walls of each van.

If we get pulled over by cops and searched, we are fucked. There’s no way to hide our tools of trade, so we don’t break any speed limits, trying to maintain our cover so we can reach our destinations without issue.

“Are all ten locations down?” I ask from the front seat before Lewy’s voice comes through the car’s speaker.

“Yes, Sarg. I have my team working on a solution, but it’s almost like something is blocking our access. If you could get someone to check the comms controls on site, that will help me figure out what’s going on.”

Glancing over my shoulder, I eye Murf, who gives me a nod, silently telling me he’ll handle that.

“Will do, Lewy. Keep working on it. We’ll be in touch,” I bark before ending the call, frustration that we are going in blind evident in my snappy tone.

“Lewy’s good at what he does.” JD reassures me from the driver’s seat as he slows the van at an intersection.

“Yeah, I know,” I mutter, looking both ways down the road to see them completely vacant. It’s fucking eerie seeing the normally bustling streets resemble something I’ve only ever witnessed in movies.

As we turn onto the main road, three of the vans veer off in the other direction, heading to our northern locations while the other two stay on our tail.

This whole fucking situation doesn’t feel right to me. It feels very fucking off.

Leaning forward, I scoop up the CB radio receiver and press the button.

“Van two to all vans, do you receive?”

“Van three receives.” Tups, our club Secretary acknowledges first.

“Van one hears you loud and clear.” Smitty chirps, sounding way too fucking cheerful to be on a mission. But that’s just him. He’s an adrenalin junkie through and through. This shit fuels him.

“Van six is present, sir.”

The men in my van chuckle at the mocking tone of Spud’s voice. He may be our Vice President, but the fucker is a clown.

“Van four, ready,” Roadie announces.

“Van five, locked and loaded,” Mex practically yells.

“I wish he wouldn’t say that over the radio,” JD mutters from beside me, and I have to agree, but now’s not the time for me to bring that up.

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