Page 42 of Dead Devil's Playground
Oliver's eyes widen like I've grown a second head, but he adapts quickly, wrapping his arm around my waist as we careen around a corner with all the grace of two tequila-soaked college freshmen.
"Ooh, she's feisty tonight," Kai's voice crackles in my ear. "Rev, think Hudson would look good in your bathrobe? The purple one with the hearts? Are we going to have to play scissors paper rock to decide who shares their side of the bed?"
I pretend to trip, using the moment to scan for threats while dramatically clutching Oliver's surprisingly firm chest. "Christ on a cracker, I'm out here risking my ass while you three plan your throuple honeymoon. If I get shot because you'recomparing dick sizes, I'll haunt you so hard your grandchildren will need exorcisms."
"Northeast quadrant showing activity," Camden reports. "Multiple heat signatures around the containers."
It’s obvious that Camden can’t hear the conversation between me and the guys, or I’m sure I would have heard a smart ass comment or two by now about getting myself killed.
I steer Oliver down a narrow passage between two rows of containers, deliberately taking a zigzagging path that would make sense for lost drunk kids but also keeps us out of direct sightlines of anyone watching the main pathways.
"Perimeter established," Hudson confirms in my ear. "We're closing the circle. ETA three minutes to your position. Do not engage until we're in place."
"Wouldn't dream of it," I reply sweetly, loud enough that Oliver raises an eyebrow.
"Is there someone else here?" he whispers, playing his part but genuinely confused.
I tap my ear subtly, and understanding dawns on his face. He nods, continuing our charade with renewed enthusiasm, wrapping his arm more securely around my waist as we stagger forward.
The sounds of activity grow louder as we approach the northeast section—men's voices, the clang of metal, the low rumble of engines. I mentally catalog each noise, building a picture of what we're walking into. Whoever is behind this didn't expect company tonight. They think they're operating under cover of darkness, safe from prying eyes.
I hope they've gotten comfortable in that assumption. Complacency makes people careless.
"I think I hear music!" I exclaim loudly as we round the final corner, clinging to Oliver's arm. "See? I told you we were going the right way!"
The scene before us is exactly what I feared. Our shipping area is alive with activity—men in black clothing and balaclavas moving between containers. A freshly arrived shipment sits open, its contents being transferred to two boats moored at the small dock adjacent to our warehouse. The boats explain how they've been bypassing our security—coming in by water instead of through the main gates.
I press my lips to Oliver's ear as if whispering something flirty, using the moment to murmur into my mic. "Look at all those helpful workers moving our party favors to those pretty boats. At least a dozen friends with toys. Jax should have said it was a costume party."
"Fuck," Kai hisses in my ear. "That's the premium stock for the opening."
"Hold position," Hudson orders. "We're almost in place."
I scan the area, looking for whoever might be in charge, when Oliver stumbles deliberately, sending us both tumbling against a container with a loud clang. My heart stops as several heads turn in our direction.
"Shit, sorry babe," Oliver slurs loudly, playing his part. "Told you those last shots were a bad idea."
I giggle, clinging to him and trying not to be distracted by the muscles under my hands while positioning myself to reach the knife at my thigh if needed. "You're such a lightweight!"
For a moment, I think we might pull it off—just two drunk kids who took a wrong turn. But then one of the men breaks away from the group, his hand moving to his waistband as he approaches.
"Hey! You two! What the fuck are you doing here?"
I stumble forward, putting myself slightly in front of Oliver as he shrinks back. "Oh my god, is this not the rave? Jax said it was by the water and there'd be boats and—" I break off, squinting dramatically at the man. "Wait, this doesn't look like a party."
"You need to leave. Now." The man's voice is hard, his hand still hovering near what I'm certain is a concealed weapon.
"Thirty seconds," Hudson’s says in my ear. "Stall."
I pout dramatically at the masked man. "But we came all this way! And Jax said there'd be molly, you know how tight those assholes in the city are about that stuff, and—"
"I said leave!" The man steps closer, and now I can clearly see the gun tucked into his waistband. Behind him, the others have stopped working, their attention now focused on us.
"Ten seconds," Rev's voice promises in my ear.
I'm calculating our chances—whether to maintain the charade or drop it and go for my weapons—when the decision is made for me. A second man approaches, this one already holding his gun at his side.
"Who the fuck are they?" he demands, gesturing at us with the weapon.
