Page 120 of Debt of My Soul

“Joint task force. Our unit’s SWAT and Mississippi’s FBI units.” His voice croaks and his eyes go wide as Trip’s gun takes aim at his face. I drop my work and fire back three more times. Trip ducks behind the entryway doorframe.

“Go after Darrin,” Wilson commands.

“Not before I get you out of these.” I scowl at the knotted chains and make quick work to undo them, grateful there wasn’t a padlock on them as is typical Blitz fashion.

Wilson jumps up, letting out a cry of pain and holding his bruised, or maybe even broken ribs. That doesn’t stop him from taking spot at my back.

“I’ve got your six. We’ve gotta move. They’ll have hit all the cabins and the clubhouse.”

I growl, pissed that Fleur is going to be thrust into this confused and disoriented before I’ve had the chance to talk with her. Hell, I’m confused.

Another shot grazes my leg and I buckle, glancing up to see Blitz firing at us. Trip has turned, his back to us, engaging agents who have flooded the stairwell.

“Some warning would’ve been nice!” I bark in pain and anger as Wilson and I move around the room, taking cover behind a steel table. Its top is lined with pliers, electric shock wands, and multiple hammers. Guess I know what Raven had planned.

“No time. Chatter in the network places the Cartel here tomorrow.” Another bullet flies in our direction and I grunt,flipping the table over. The clatter of tools vibrates off the walls, and I shove the table a few inches at a time. We move, making our way toward the door, shots ricocheting off the turned table with high-pitched pings.

“Darrin didn’t know. He didn’t mention them coming,” I pant. Sweat beads my brow and I turn to take in Wilson, trying to help move the table with his only free hand.

“They were going to kill him. Raven made a deal.”

I freeze. I knew Raven wasn’t sniffing around for some brotherly feud. He’s here to claim this as his.

The guilt of not being there for Darrin these last few months stabs at my chest. I shouldn’t feel bad. He made his bed, and he can lie in it. But still, despite how Darrin is involved, his soul isn’t forever tainted … I know it. Probably because I caught a glimpse of his while trying to preserve mine.

Coughs erupt from the doorway where Trip and Darrin stand and a haze wafts into the room, the acrid scent overwhelming.

“Damn it,” Wilson says, pulling his shirt over his nose.

A burning sensation claws at the back of my throat and my eyes feel as though I’ve opened them in a vat of lava. We’re farther back, but the gas released in the hall penetrates the room.

Skin tingling with discomfort, I mimic Wilson and pull up my shirt. Trip yells and I peek over the table to see SWAT with gas masks on, pinning him to the wall and cuffing him behind his back.

Three agents dart in the room, one of them with two masks in their hands. Wilson and I jump up. Wilson grabs both and hands one to me.

“Agent Wilson, Agent Parker. Good to see you. Let’s get you out of here.”

I slide the mask over my face, experiencing the sweet relief of being able to suck a deep lungful of air.

I catch sight of Trip and Darrin both handcuffed and being led up the stairs. Blitz is in front of them, combative. Three agents wrestle him to the top while he tosses out profanities like candy at a parade.

Wilson struggles with the steps, so I lift his arm up around my neck and offer him support as we climb the stairs. The dingy basement falls away to the brightly lit warehouse. It’s been totally cleared out of all the packers from only an hour ago and investigative agents have already moved in to bag and tag it all.

Our group moves to the door and the only thing I can think about it Fleur. I rip off my mask, toss it to the ground, and push through several of the other agents filtering out. Wilson tries to keep up, but Agent Hunter takes over for me.

The sun is blinding, and I squint, scanning the area outside the warehouse for Fleur. SWAT trucks and unmarked police SUVs liter the compound. Crime scene tape is already erect around the clubhouse—dread fuels my search.

In a group of unrestrained men and women hovering over by the large oak to the right of the warehouse, I catch a flash of a blond braid whipping around as Fleur combs the sea of people and police. She argues with an agent next to her and he aggressively grabs at her to sit back down.

Possessiveness crashes into me, my chest tightening, and I surge toward her.

Chapter 45

Fleur

My face is wet. Tears stream down my face as I search the area for Liam, panicking when I don’t see him.

I’ve practically been assigned my own agent babysitter, and he won’t let me go anywhere.

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