Page 54 of Ravaged and Ruined
I should feel better. The Bloody Scorpions are dead, all but the few cowards who got away with their tails between their legs. But all I feel is hollow.
I swallow another shot and scrub a hand down my face. My knuckles are still raw. There’s dried blood under my fingernails. Some of it’s mine. Most of it isn’t.
Behind me, the brothers drift in. Quiet. Tired. Bloody and bruised. Padre’s got a split lip. Crank’s limping. No one complains. No one says a damn word. They just drop into chairs, kick off boots, crack beers like we didn’t just level an entire MC.
I turn, my back pressed to the bar, glass dangling from my fingertips.
“Hashtag,” I grunt.
He looks up from where he’s already sliding his laptop out of its case. “On it. I’ll check for chatter.”
He jerks a thumb toward the laptop screen without looking. “Local news caught the blaze. Cops found the bodies—well, what’s left of ’em. No IDs made yet and no mention of us.” he confirms.
Rancor crosses his arms, scowling. “Won’t stay that way long. Those fuckers that got away are gonna start squawking. We lost the element of surprise.”
“Maybe,” I mutter, my jaw clenched. “But they don’t know what we know.”
Crank grunts. “You think the buyer knows the shipment’s gone?”
I shake my head. “They might not even know the container got hit yet. And if they did, they’d be more careful. I doubt the buyer knows shit.”
Padre leans back in the chair, his voice like gravel. “We wait too long, we lose any girls they already have.”
“I know,” I snarl, sharper than I mean to.
“They can’t be dumb enough to move women during daylight,” Surge says quietly.
“I’m not betting lives on what those animals will or won’t do.” I lift the bottle again and let it burn down my throat. “Hashtag, dig into the location that prospect gave us. I want to know if there’s any movement.”
“On it.” Hashtag says peeling off toward his tech den.
I turn to the rest. “Everyone get some rest. We hit the plant tonight.”
Some of the guys shift, hesitation in their eyes like maybe they’ve got something to say. I cut them off with a look that dares them to open their mouth. No one does.
They’re pissed. Wound just as tight as I am. It goes against every instinct we’ve got to wait when there’s blood to spill and women in trouble, but they know I’m right. They need rest, and clear heads. Half-cocked gets you killed.
One by one, they file out.
I pour one last shot and down it. Tension coils in my spine. I push off the bar, pacing. My boots thud slow against the warped floorboards.
I hate this part. The waiting. It gives me too much time to think. Lacey’s gone and that’s on me. I told myself it was to protect her. That I’d rather she hate me and live than love me and die. But fuck if it doesn’t feel like a knife twisting under my ribs.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Aero
The clubhouse grows quiet, but there’s no peace here. Just the kind of silence that leaves too much room for thoughts I’ve got no business having. Unable to settle my restlessness, I stalk toward Hashtag’s tech den. The glow from a half-dozen screens hits me before I even cross the threshold. It feels like walking into a radioactive cave. Wires snake along the floor, monitors stacked like some kind of digital altar, and in the middle of it all, I find Hashtag hunched forward in his chair like a vulture over a fresh kill, headphones crooked around his neck, fingers flying over the keyboards. There’s a six pack of energy drinks by his side and already a few empty ones in the trash can on the other side.
I step in, closing the door behind me.
“Talk to me,” I growl, unable to take the silence for a minute longer.
He spins the chair halfway toward me, but he’s still typing. He nods at the biggest screen showing a satellite view. A red dotblinks against a blacked-out background. “Meatpacking plant’s here.” He points to the dot.
I walk up behind him, arms crossed, leaning in. “How’d you find it?”
Hashtag smirks like a kid about to brag on a science fair ribbon. “Triangulated last known pings from the Bloody Scorpions phones. Then I decrypted signal chips in the IDs we lifted. They think they’re slick, but they’re just dumb enough to make this easy.”
