Page 110 of Beautifully Wounded

“You ready, man?”

He holds up his Glock and flashes me a fucking grin.

“Ready Sarg. Lead the way.”

With a nod, we all get out of the van, moving quickly but quietly to the entrance door.

JD tries the handle, but it’s locked, as it should be, so I key in the code and hear the faint click, releasing the latch.

Swinging the door wide, our guns are raised, ready to shoot anything that moves, but all is clear in the entrance, so we continue in.

For an MC, we aren’t quite as thug populated as other MCs in the country. A lot of our men are ex-army, many of which have seen action over in the middle east.

For whatever reason, they left the service and found their way to us, which gives us a unique advantage over most.

Skill and experience.

We move as a unit through the long passage that opens up into the main warehouse, JD and I veering off towards the office just off to the side where the hum of a TV sounds, as well as laughter.

JD eyes me, and he doesn’t need to speak for me to know we are thinking the same thing.

What the fuck is going on?

As we reach the door to the office, I glance over my shoulder to see Trigger and Mule on full alert behind us, their guns raised and ready, while the others stand back, fanning the entrance, ready for battle.

When my gaze locks onto JD’s again, I give him a nod and he turns the doorknob slowly and quietly before shoving it open.

“Hands in the air!” I yell, scaring the absolute fuck outta the men sitting around a card table playing fucking poker.

“Fuck. Don’t shoot,” cries Yabbie, his hands darting in the air as his cards go flying.

“Uhhhh, they seem fine.” JD voices my fucking thoughts.

“What’s going on, Sarg?” Scooter asks this time, his bald head appearing as he accidentally knocks his cap off while raising his hands.

“You all good?” I ask, my gaze darting from my two men, to Patrick and Gerald, who belong to the Marx crew.

“Yeah. Everything is good here,” Patrick answers for them and they all nod.

“Lower your guns,” I call, relaxing my shoulders and huffing in frustration as I step back out the door to eye Murf and Trunk. “All clear. Get your tasks done.”

They nod and hurry off, while I step back into the room, noting that even though I’ve called all clear, Trigger and Mule remain on high alert with their guns ready.

“We got an alert from this warehouse, but comms and eyes are down,” I tell them, and they all lower their hands to pull out their phones.

“Shit. Ididn’t even notice,” Scooter mutters, as Patrick shoots from his seat to check the security monitors in the other room.

Following, I watch as he frowns, clicking a few things before his gaze meets mine.

“The security cameras are down. It doesn’t look to be on site, though.”

“So the cameras haven’t been tampered with?” I ask, and he shrugs.

“I’d have to check, but this shows them still there, but they are somehow not turned on. It’s like someone else is controlling them.”

Fuck.

“I already have my men checking the hardware, and Lewy can’t seem to access them remotely.”

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