Page 50 of Consequences

No, he really wasn’t. The idea of doing something like this got him revved up to a point because he hasn’t done much outside of the technical aspects in a long time. The excitement surprised him, and he wanted to do this. A little. Even though he wants to prove himself, he knows it’s a mistake.

“It feels like something terrible is going to happen, and it’s wrong to do without the club knowing,” Brock says.

“They’ll want to come in with guns blazing, and we both know that will only end in destruction. Besides, we saw this asshole leave for this shindig. The house is dark. No one’s home, and we can just slip in, get what we need, and slip back out.”

The man was part of some Special Ops he refuses to talk about, so Brock knows he should trust him.Should.Something screams at him that this won’t go as smoothly as Beckett believes it will.

Is it my gut, or am I just a fucking pussy now? Others have run into burning buildings, jumped off cliffs to save a woman, and worked with various enemies-turned-friends to strike a deal. Breaking in and getting information from a computer should be child’s play.

“Let’s go.”

Smirking, Beckett slips out of the passenger side with Brock hurrying behind him. The van is far enough away from the house that it shouldn’t have been detected by any cameras on the property.

They wear gloves, and they both have on hats and are covered from head to toe. Beckett gave him something to put on his cheeks under his eyes to create a glare on cameras to obscure their identities. If all goes according to plan, there should be zero traces of them left behind.

Pressing himself against the fence like Beckett does, Brock says a silent prayer that it’s not electric. They’ll be shot yards away and die pretty painfully if it is.

They manage to avoid any sensors that trigger spotlights on the house, and they reach the back gate without incident. The ease in which Beckett jumps over the fence and opens the gate to let Brock in is rather impressive. Something he looks to have done a thousand times before.

Hell, he probably has done shit like this a thousand times before. Why I am doubting him?

Stealth. Most of the men in the club don’t possess any type of skill that can be described as such. They’re more of a bull in a china shop sort of group, but not Beckett. Hell, the Army Five and Gunner can probably all do what Beckett did. Even Undertaker.

Once inside the gate, Brock closes it and hears a double latch as it shuts. His heart rate kicks up, and he turns, trying to open the gate again. It doesn’t budge. The gate is locked tight, and he can’t release it.

“Beckett,” Brock hisses. “Something’s wrong.”

“I’ll give you a boost on our way out,” he whispers back. “Come on.”

They walk about five hundred yards until they reach a window that leads into the kitchen. It’s large and low to the ground. Something a paranoid man shouldn’t leave unlocked, but he did.

As much as he wants to believe Donald Ramsey thinks the spotlights are sufficient protection, and locking windows is unnecessary, Brock doesn’t know if he believes it. It’s all too easy.

They slip inside, staying low to the ground. Again, a man as paranoid as Ramsey should have sensors everywhere. Just because he left the window unlocked doesn’t mean he doesn’t have an alarm system to warn him of intruders.

“Okay,” Beckett whispers,” I was able to get the blueprints to his house from the city. His office should be upstairs, first door on the right.”

“How the fuck did you get that without questions or getting caught?”

“I have connections.” He smirks and winks. “Stay low to the ground and against the walls. Once we’re upstairs, we should be in the clear. Most systems only have sensors on the main level and upstairs windows. Easy access points.”

Then why wasn’t there a sensor on the open window? Is this guy asking someone to break in? And if so, why would he want that? To see how far they get?

They find the staircase off of the kitchen, and they keep their backs against the walls as they walk up, each taking a side and facing each other. Vigilance is key right now.

Stopping at the top, they listen for signs of anyone in the house. Footsteps. Breathing, coughing, anything.

Nothing happens, and Beckett sighs in relief. “That was easier than I expected.”

“Doesn’t it seem a littletooeasy?”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s supposed to be paranoid, right? Why would the place not requireMission Impossiblelevel skills to get around? Something about this seems fishy.”

“Or maybe he’s not as good as everyone assumes.”

No, that doesn’t sound right, and Brock pauses. His instincts that shout something is wrong hits so hard he nearly vomits. “Beckett, wait—”

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