I head into the main area of the warehouse where we store guns and other shit we need to keep away from the clubhouse. Ransom has tied the two Zenith members to cement columns in the middle of the room. They’ve both suffered a beating and are already bruised and bloody from not only that but also the bullets they’ve sustained. They can barely stand thanks to being shot, but Ransom has tied them in such a way that the rope is keeping them vertical. They eye me with hostility as I stalk towards them.
Not slowing as I approach, I punch the guy on the left. I hit him so hard his face almost twists around to face the cement column he’s attached to. When he looks at me again, I land another punch on his face. We keep this up and I land punch after punch on him. It’s therapeutic as fuck, and when this guy’s face is a bloody, swollen mess, I direct my fists to the other guy. By the time I’m ready to take a break, I’m sweaty and smeared in their blood.
“Who ordered the kill?” I demand.
When neither of them answers me, I grab the guy on the left’s hair and yank his head back. “Tell me who the fuck is in charge.”
“Go to hell,” he manages to get out.
I punch him again. A few times. “Tell me!”
The other one grunts in pain and says, “That’s what you cunts don’t get; Zenith is strong because none of us will ever talk. You’ll never know who we work for.”
I work my jaw as I grip his face. Squeezing hard, I say, “You’ll talk to me or I’ll bring someone in who’s trained for this kind of work. I recommend you choose me.”
When neither of them speaks, I leave them to go find Hunt. He’s outside with Ransom. Lifting his chin at me, he says, “You get them to talk?”
“No, I need you in there.”
His shoulders square and determination fills his features. Without another word, he moves into action. This is the kind of shit Hunt lives for.
After he leaves us, Ransom says, “Everyone should be here ready to go within the next forty minutes.” He pauses for a beat. “You sure you wanna spill blood tonight, brother? I’m with you if you are, but it’s unlike you to react in the moment like this.”
He’s right; it is unlike me. However, this decision has been coming for a while. “If we don’t make a stand now, they’ll keep tearing our club apart, so yeah, I’m sure.” I’ve looked ahead at all the possible consequences and the paths we could take to deal with them. I’m confident we have the back up available from other Storm chapters to do this.
We spend twenty minutes going over the plan for tonight before heading back inside to see how Hunt’s going. If the screams coming from the warehouse are anything to go by, he’s on his way to dragging the information from them that we’re after.
Hunt has untied one of the guys from the cement column, placed a hood over his head, tied his hands tightly behind him with a wood board between his arms and his back, and has him squatting. It’s a stress position known to fatigue muscles and cause pain.
The other guy is copping another beating, and by the looks of the tools Hunt has laid out, and the blood coming from the guy’s mouth, he’s lost a few teeth already.
When the guy he’s beating passes out, Hunt turns to the other one, catching sight of Ransom and me as he turns.
“Anything?” I ask, moving closer.
He comes to me. “They’re both sticking to their story that no one knows who they work for in that gang, but this one”—he jerks his thumb at the one he was beating—“just mumbled the name Bourne to me.”
My mind races, trying to recall if that name is familiar. “That name hasn’t come up in any of our researc
h.”
“No, so I don’t know if it’s bullshit or not. I’ll keep working them.” His eyes glint darkly. “We’re just getting warmed up here.”
“You’re good to stay here tonight?”
“Yeah. I’m not leaving until I get what we need.”
Hunt’s only ties in life are to Storm. He has no family I know of and I’ve never seen him with a woman. When I call on him, he never says no. And when I need him for this kind of work, he dedicates himself for as long as it takes.
Club members start arriving, drawing my attention from Hunt’s interrogation to making sure everyone is armed well. Once everyone is ready to go, we load up the vans and head out. Twenty-five minutes later, we reach our destination. The building looks abandoned and run down, but from the intel we have, we know they’ve been using it for a couple of months.
I signal for everyone to take their positions. Our plan involves surrounding the building before Ransom and a group enter from the front. Once they’ve got the attention of whoever’s inside, I’ll lead a group from the back. We’re not here to negotiate tonight; we’re here to wipe this fucking gang off the map.
Moving to the back of the building, I wait for Ransom to let me know to enter. The signal comes through a few minutes after he’s inside, and I relay it to my men. The building is dark as we silently move through it. I note the rooms filled with coke and equipment to distribute it. I also note the other stuff they’re moving: cigarettes and electrical goods.
Drawing closer to the gunshots and fighting I can hear, we reach the front of the building where Ransom and his team are dealing with about ten guys. A gun sounds just as I duck because I locked eyes on the shooter right before he pulled the trigger.
At the same time, another guy lunges for me. I see him coming in time to weave out of his way. Turning back, I punch him, causing him to stumble. He gets back in the game fast and comes at me with a punch to my cheek. Pain radiates through me, which I welcome. It reminds me why the fuck I’m here tonight. It reminds me of all the pain these motherfuckers have caused my club. It reminds me I’ve been dragged away from Birdie for this shit.