Page 180 of Beautifully Reckless

“And Stocky?” I growl, my patience wearing razor-thin.

“With Mex, Vender and Tups over by the row of shipping containers we haven’t touched yet.”

Nodding, JD and I pocket a few more guns off the hay bale, then slip back out the door.

We only make it a few steps before bullets spray past us again, and we both take off, sprinting for the shipping containers where some of the men are returning fire.

I dive for cover as the bullets get too close for fucking comfort, sliding across the grass and slamming into Mex behind the containers. Worried for my best mate, I snap my gaze in his direction just in time to see JD doing the same, skidding across the grass to take cover with us.

“Talk to me,” I demand, pressing myself to the steel wall and peering around the corner.

“There’s about ten of them,” Mex barks. “They only shoot when they see movement or to return fire. Got no fucking clue what their MO is.”

It’s then that a loud voice cracks through the air.

My brows fucking hitch as Mex mirrors me, and we fall dead silent to listen.

“RINGO!”

“The fuck?” JD hisses, peeking around the corner. “How are they doing that?”

A high-pitched squeal makes us all flinch before it cuts out. It’s that nasty feedback sound made when a mic gets too close to a speaker.

“Megaphone.” Tups shrugs. “Has to be. I don’t see how the hell they’d rig up fucking speakers out here.”

I nod. It’s the simplest explanation, and the most likely.

“RINGO!”

Hearing my name blare across the clearing again sends fucking chills down my spine.

“Why are they calling your name?” JD frowns, matching mine.

“That’s what I’d like to fucking know,” I snap, glancing back over to the barn, happy to see no movement outside it.

What the fuck is going on?

“They’ve been quiet ‘til now. Nothing but bullets,” Vender adds from where he’s perched on a ladder, his rifle on top of the container.

“RINGO! IF YOU ARE HERE, PLEASE SHOW YOURSELF!”

“What the actual fuck is going on?” JD snaps, eyes practically bulging out of his skull.

“RINGO! WE WON’T HARM YOU! JUST SHOW YOURSELF!”

JD scoffs, not believing a word of whoever is speaking, and the dread curling in my gut tells me exactly what kind of trap this could be.

But I can’t ignore it. If there’s even the smallest chance I can shut this down… I have to try.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Stocky hisses, gripping my arm as I move to step out from the cover we’re hiding behind.

“I have to put an end to this,” I sneer, yanking my arm free.

“The fuck you do.” JD’s on me next, grabbing at my cut, trying to haul me back.

I spin and throw a punch at him, missing as he ducks, but using his distraction to break away and step clear of the container.

“I’m fucking here!” I bellow as loud as I can. “What do you want?!”

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