Page 90 of Unveiled Wounds

“On my count.” Cyph clicked a couple of computer keys. “Quadrant three, take off running…now.”

I waited until it was my turn, sliding my keys out of my pocket. My bike was almost as precious to me as my family, and I didn’t leave my keys out where just anyone could go for a joy ride.

“I didn’t know you could run that fast, Count. I thought the spikes would hold you back.” We were in the middle of a war, and Cyph was teasing Count. Typical.

“Fuck off. I can run fast enough to put my boot up your fucking ass.” Count wasn’t even breathing hard. Fuck. I might have to step up my game.

“Popping the lock on the guard shack, and I already told A, so he doesn’t shit his fucking pants.” Cyph waited a beat. “Alright, they’re in. The outside door to the shack is unlocked. Quadrant one, get ready to move.”

I raised to a crouch position, waiting.

“Go.”

I took off, not even looking to see who was following me. Down the steps, I headed straight for my bike, threw my leg over, and walked it backwards. The first shot rang out behind me. “They’re fucking shooting at us? On our fucking property?” I kept my rage under control. I’d get my chance to rip them apart.

“They nailed my bike, the motherfuckers.”

“Better than them nailing your ass.”

I didn’t pay attention to the brothers behind me as I rode my bike around the side of the clubhouse, heading for the trees. It was like old times as I hit the trail, moving left and right naturally, like I’d done it a million times. Shots rang out, but I only paid attention to the road in front of me.

“Blow up the cars. Grizz is halfway through the trees,” Cyph gave the update.

“Hit,” I heard Op say.

“Hit. Oh fuck, it flipped. Taking another tire,” Zook said.

“Hit.” I was pretty sure that was Dead.

“Fuck, I missed,” How said in frustration. “Hit, and no one better say anything, fuckers.”

I hit the dirt on the other side of the trees, and sure enough, one of the SUVs had overturned. The driver’s door to the second one was opening, and I quickly stopped to dismount. “Split up,” I yelled, heading toward the upright SUV.

Driving my fist through the soldier’s face wasn’t as satisfying as I thought it would be. I followed the uppercut with a hit to the stomach before swiping his feet out from underneath him. His back hit the ground, but as he looked up at me, he laughed. He wasn’t trying to defend himself.

“Puta,” he said, spitting a glob of blood onto the ground next to him.

“Get up,” I said, shifting into a fighting stance. I didn’t want to turn my back on him, but I needed to know if anyone was going to come up from behind.

“Cyph, are they fighting back?” I asked. Something was wrong, but I wasn’t sure what we were missing.

“Not really. Your guy is just laying there. Count’s dude is letting him wail, and the rest are about the same.”

The man on the ground laughed, and it clicked. These weren’t regular soldiers. “Who paid you?” I kicked his side, convincing him to talk.

“Puta.”

“Yeah, I’m a whore. Who the fuck hired you?” I drove the toe of my boot harder into his side until he flipped over. Coughing again, he spat another blood bubble.

“Cyph, scan the area for more cars, more everything. This is a setup.” I shoved the barrel of my gun into the back of the man’s head. “A cartel soldier wouldn’t go down without a fight, and you’re just lying there like a bitch. What are you getting out of this?” I clicked the safety off my gun.

“Money. My family will live like kings.”

“So, they paid you to do this?” I’d heard him, but that wasn’t any information to go on, and I hoped he would volunteer something—anything.

“Live like a king.” He lifted his upper body, pushing the barrel of my gun tighter against the back of his head. Smiling, he whistled. “Boom.”

“The SUV just blew up,” Count screamed.