But I had to do this.
My earpiece buzzed with an urgency that was running hot in my veins.
I tapped it, answering, “Wraith.”
Scott’s impatient rumble came down the line, “What’s the hold up? Ain’t got word from you and it’s been three goddamn hours.”
I narrowed my eyes in frustration at the scene across the street. Four dozen bikers were convened outside, right in the open, ripe for the fucking picking.
Their annual get-together was well underway. They were stunting, barbecuing, smoking what looked like a hell of a lot more than just tobacco and a bit of marijuana. The liquor was flowing freely, too. They weren’t on guard in the least. They’d become foolishly cocky.
After what they’d pulled on our territory, they should be locked down with crazy-ass security measures in place.
But they really seemed to believe they were untouchable.
And it was about to cost them everything.
The issue I was running into, though, was that Knox Price hadn’t ventured outside. Not once.
I shifted my weight on my shooting platform, my muscles burning from remaining rigidly still for far too long. Not only was I too old for this bull now, I was majorly out of practice. “I can’t get a lock on Knox,” I reported. “He hasn’t ventured outside into my field of fire.”
“Jesus Christ.”
Normally ice-cold during an operation, it was a testament to how personal and trying this was for Scott. His stress was showing through. He was incredibly anxious and micromanaging intensely, determined to know every detail of what was going on, to have everything spelled out clearly and concisely to him. No room for mistakes.
“Well, what the fuck’s he doing? Sitting in his office doing goddamn paperwork?”
I rolled my eyes. Speculating would achieve nothing. “We need a distraction to draw him out.”
“Well, you firing at them, ain’t gonna do that, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“It’s not,” I gritted out, my agitation growing. His shortness, him being so obviously rattled wasn’t helping the situation at all. And it wasn’t helping me. Knowing what I had to do was already twisting my gut. The only way I could go through with it and not fucking choke in the process, which would get us all killed, was to lock down all emotion.
I had to draw on the cold, calculated killer mentality.
But his emotion coming at me was making that incredibly difficult.
“All right,” he spoke. I heard him drawing in a breath, clearly trying to calm himself. “I’m gonna pull a Trojan Horse.”
Unfortunately from our years working alongside one another in the SF, I knew what that meant all too well.
“The risk is too high,” I warned him.
Our club brothers were waiting in the wings with him, a quarter of a mile back from my position on the roof of an abandoned gas station down the street from the Rogue Riders MC compound, at a truck stop just off the highway. I’d hightailed it from there on foot, knowing the roar of my motorcycle would have given me away immediately.
Scott went on, “I’m gonna claim I wanna strike a deal with Knox and—”
“He’s not going to buy that.”
“He will if it’s to strike a deal for my baby girl’s life. Gonna make him believe I’m giving myself up for her. Gonna tell him I’m tired of this bullshit war, that they got way too close to Ash the other day and I can’t be letting that happen again, so I’m doing whatever I can to keep her safe.”
It was possible that Knox would buy that. He knew how much Scott cared for Ashley, that she was the most precious thing to him in the world. He wouldn’t have gone after her if he didn’t get that. But it was still majorly risky.
“All right,” I conceded. There wasn’t much choice. He was the Prez, the leader of this op. Plus, it was beginning to look like Knox was never coming out of the compound. Scott could definitely give him that push.
“Wait on my signal, yeah?”
“WILCO.”
A small chuckle came from him. “Fuck, after all this time? So much for putting all that behind us. Old habits die hard, brother.”
“Yeah. Yeah, they do.”
We disconnected.
And then I waited.
Every second that passed had me growing more on edge. While my hide had great observation, field of fire, ballistic advantage to avoid any potential counter-sniper fire, and the fire escape offering a perfect back door route to move into an alternate standing position on ground level, it was lacking in terms of concealment and cover. I hadn’t had much choice. It was the only location at least four-hundred-yards away from the enemy, the roof of an abandoned gas station across the street.
Knox had chosen a great location for his clubhouse. Off the beaten track, nothing and no one around for miles. A fine place to conduct any number of illegal activities. Unfortunately for him, it offered us the same advantage with our takedown. No interference, no witnesses, and, thankfully, no collateral damage. I abhorred it when the latter couldn’t be avoided. It was brutal and a bitch to reconcile. I’d never taken on a job involving the takedown of innocents. But, sometimes, things happened. Awful, reprehensible things that could never be forgotten.
After several minutes had passed with me silently praying that I’d finally witness Knox walking out in the open through my scope, a sudden commotion had me pulling back. I lifted my head carefully above the tiny two-foot-high concrete parapet that surrounded the entire roof. Limited cover, indeed.
Scott had arrived.
Now we could get this mission on the fucking road.
I really didn’t have the patience for this that I used to. Not only did I not want to be doing this anymore, the stakes were too high for my
