Page 22 of Tag
He stood, already pulling on his clothes. “Then let’s walk into it first.”
I crossed the room and pressed my hand to his chest.
He stilled.
“This time,” I said softly, “we don’t walk in blind.”
Tag’s fingers curled around mine. “Then let’s hit him hard. Fast. And end this.”
I looked up at him—this man who’d bulldozed every wall I’d built and somehow made me feel like I wasn’t broken underneath it all.
“Tag?”
“Yeah?”
“Whatever happens tonight… we go in together. We come out together.”
His hand came up to cradle my jaw. “You’re not losing me, Aponi.”
My voice shook. “You don’t get to promise that.”
His lips brushed mine once, fierce and protective. “I do now.”
18
Tag
The dock reeked of diesel, salt, and secrets.
Warehouse 37 loomed like a sleeping monster under the glow of flickering floodlights. Rust streaked the metal siding. A single truck was parked at the loading bay, engine still warm. That meant we weren’t too late—or we were just in time to walk into something ugly.
Aponi crouched beside me behind a stack of shipping containers. She wore all black, her long braid tucked into her jacket, her movements precise and quiet. I’d seen a lot of warriors in my life—but none that looked like her.
She held up two fingers—movement to the left.
I raised my binoculars and scanned the entrance. Two guards. Armed. Casual posture. Not cops. Definitely not kids.
Then I saw him.
Malik Voss.
He stepped out of the shadows like he owned the night.
Same arrogance. Same shark eyes.
He’d traded street clothes for sleek tactical gear and expensive boots. A heavy duffel bag was slung over his shoulder.No doubt packed with the kind of weapons meant for warzones, not city streets.
A black SUV pulled up.
New players. Not locals. Probably buyers.
Aponi’s voice was a whisper. “Recognize them?”
“Not by face,” I murmured, “but that plate’s linked to a cartel contact out of Baja. Real serious players. One mistake is that they always put that emblem on their plate. They are too cocky to care if they are recognized.”
She muttered a curse. “So Malik’s not just trafficking girls anymore. He’s arming people who are already neck-deep in blood.”
“Which means we can’t let that deal go through.”
