Page 26

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W e are the second van to arrive at warehouse four. Van five, the van we couldn’t communicate with, is still here, the doors thrown open and no one in sight.

The screech of tyres from the Marx brothers’ two Range Rovers are loud as they come to a halt behind our van, and as we all pile out, Mex steps out from the warehouse entrance, the look on his face grave.

“What is it?” I snap, storming towards him, taking in his slumped shoulders and pallor of his skin which is pale compared to his normally golden tone.

Mex warily glances at me before his gaze travels over my shoulder to the thundering feet coming up behind me.

“Mex. Tell me,” I order, and he flinches, his dark eyes returning to mine.

“They’re all dead. ”

My brows shoot up. “All four?”

“Yes,” Mex mutters.

“How?” Conrad Marx snaps from behind me.

“Uh, well…” Mex shifts uncomfortably, his gaze darting to mine, and when I nod, he continues. “Two died by gunshot, and two, well… It’s hard to tell if it was the bullets or the way their necks have been sliced open to know which killed them.”

“Fuck.” I hear all four Marx brothers curse behind me.

“Show me,” Riggs barks, pushing past me and shoving Mex back through the door.

“Is that fucking necessary?” I snap, turning to Kendrick, who looks fucking pissed.

“Emotions are high, man. And at least two of the dead are Riggs’ men, so you’ll have to excuse him for caring.”

“Alright. Alright. Emotions are high for everyone.” Liam intervenes, putting himself in between me and his brothers.

Fuck. This isn’t good, and while I should be focusing on what’s happening here, all I can think about is returning to Abbey.

Maybe it’s because she’s so opposite to the lifestyle I lead that has me wishing to be there instead of here doing my fucking job. I only just fucking met her, and really, she’s just someone I’m crossing paths with briefly, so why the fuck is it her I’m thinking about continuously rather than the fact two of our men have been killed.

“What the fuck is going on, Ringo?” Kendrick snaps, dragging me back to reality.

“That’s what I’d like to fucking know.” I snarl over Liam’s shoulder to his seething brother.

“Obviously, none of us know what’s happening,” Conrad barks, thank fuck .

At least he’s not automatically blaming us for this breach, unlike Kendrick, who seems to want to point the fucking finger at me.

Liam turns to face me, gripping my shoulder. “Let’s take a look.” He gestures to the open door, so I suck in a breath that’s meant to be calming, but fucking isn’t, and turn on my heel to check out the scene.

As soon as we step inside, it’s apparent that there was a fight from the start. The first man we come across is one of the Marx security, his throat slashed with two bullet wounds in his chest, and his gun lies mere inches from his fingers.

“Check that.” I point down at the gun. “See if he managed to fire a shot. Maybe we were lucky enough that they managed to shoot one of the attackers. We can keep an eye on any reports of gun shot wounds checking in for help at the hospitals.”

“Good idea,” Liam says from behind me, and he kneels beside the lifeless man, checking his gun with his gloved fingers, before looking up at me and shaking his head. “No rounds were fired.”

“Sounds like he was taken by surprise.” Conrad grunts, and I nod.

The Marx security personnel are well trained, more so than our men, which means whoever broke in managed to do it without alerting anyone until it was too late.

We move forward, taking in the rest of the scene. The office is a bloodbath, the other three men there, but it’s clear there was a gunfight.

“Riggs, get a team here and take samples of every drop of blood in this room,” Kendrick orders. “I want to know if there’s any blood that doesn’t belong to our men.”

“On it.” Riggs nods, taking out his phone and making the call .

“Do we know what was taken,” I ask, dragging my gaze from the horrific scene of our dead men, and face the warehouse, packed with medical supplies.

“At a glance it’s hard to say,” Mex offers. “Nothing stands out since it looks like nothing was touched, but we won’t know until we do a full audit.”

Fuck. This will take a few days.

“We’ll get a team of ten down here to get started.” Conrad suggests and I nod, my eyes catching on Smitty as he strides in with more of our men at his back.

“Someone tell me what the fuck happened!” He booms, and I don’t miss the way Oswald Marx rolls his eyes before turning to face my President.

That kinda pisses me off. He should have more fucking respect.

As Mex starts filling him in, my phone vibrates with an incoming call, and I frown when I see Brody’s name flashing across the screen.

“JD,” I call, glancing up to find my mate.

“Sup?” he asks, stepping around the gathered men to my side.

“Why is your little brother calling me?”

JD frowns, taking his phone out, only to see that he doesn’t have any missed calls.

When his eyes meet mine, panic widening them, I instantly hit accept since the only reason he’d ring me and not his brother is if there was something wrong.

“Speak,” I snap and at first I hear nothing, so I put it on speaker and step further away from the group of gathered Marx men, trying to hear .

“Ringo,” Brody whispers, sounding panicked. “If you can hear me. The cops are here. The compound has been compromised.” Brody coughs, and my eyes find JD’s again, his panic already setting in. “Help.”

The call ends, and for a hot fucking minute, I swear I stop breathing.

Then, at the top of my lungs, I yell. “Code Blue!”

Every Southern Sadist inside the warehouse stiffens, their eyes shooting towards me as a hush falls over the warehouse.

“Code fucking blue. Pigs are at the Western. A brother has called for help.”

No more words are needed. Our men charge for the entrance, their heavy feet pounding the concrete like a thundering herd of elephants.

My eyes meet Liam’s as he hurries to me. “What can we do?”

“Nothing man. This is our battle. Maybe just get a start on things here. I’ll get a team back as soon as I can.”

“Okay. Go.” He slaps me on the shoulder and I fucking run for the entrance.

The other vans turn up as we are piling in to leave, so Bowey stays behind to fill them in as we speed off.

“Why the fuck doesn’t this feel like a coincidence?” JD snaps, no longer caring about fucking speed limits as he plants his foot.

“I was having the same fucking thought,” I mutter as I dial Lewy.

“Sarg?” Lewy answers.

“We got eyes on the compound?” I snap.

“Hang on. Just checking now.”

My fucking knee bounces up and down like it’s having a fucking seizure, my thoughts already on Abbey and how scared she must be, because clearly the pigs weren’t there just to say hi. Clearly something has gone down for Brody to call for fucking help.

“Sarg.” Lewy speaks again. “Eyes are down at the compound.”

“Fuck!” I roar, punching the fucking dash. “What the fuck is going on?! Lewy, you’re meant to have a handle on the comms and eyes. Why they fuck don’t you?!”

“I-I’m sorry Sarg. I don’t know, but I will find out and ensure it never happens again.” Lewy promises.

“You’d fucking better. Or you know what will happen,” I growl.

“I-I know, Sarg. I promise to get on top of it.”

I end the fucking call, no longer wanting to hear his voice.

“Are we about to bury some pigs, Sarg?” Trigger asks from the back of the van, and I nod.

“Seems fucking like it.”

It takes us ten fucking minutes to get back to the Western, but fuck, it feels like it takes an hour.

The first thing we notice is the men aren’t manning the gates. The second thing is that there are no cop cars in sight.

I leap out as JD drives in, not fucking patient enough for him to pull the van into the underground garage, and the moment my feet hit the pavement, I fucking run.

With my gun ready in my hand, I raise it, prepared to shoot anything in a navy fucking uniform as I leap around the corner of the courtyard entrance and fucking come to a halt.

There are no cops in sight.

“They just left!” Jols calls from the gathered group, the Doxies huddled together, some crying, while my men are fucking battered, bloody and bruised, some on the ground, and a few others limping to chairs .

The others from my van skid to a stop behind me, ready to fucking rumble, but I lower my gun, and so do they.

“What the fuck happened?!”

Smitty’s bellow makes everyone stiffen, but I ignore it, moving forward to do a head count.

“Pres, four cops came.” Stocky puffs, trying to stand, but instantly tumbles back to the ground, his pants soaked in blood near his shin.

“Get him a fucking chair,” I snap, and Darla hurries to get him seated in a chair. “We are two men short. Where the fuck are Morris and Cookie?”

My question results in nothing but blank fucking stares.

“Jols. Have you seen Morris and Cookie?” Smitty asks his stepdaughter.

“No. Last I heard, they were on gate duty.”

“She’s right. They were manning the gates when we left.” I agree, and Smitty picks up a chair and starts smashing it into the ground as he yells.

“Then!” smash, “Why!” smash, “Aren’t!” smash, “They!” smash, “On!” smash, “The!” smash, “Fucking!” smash, “Gate!”

Finally, as he heaves, Smitty throws what’s left of the chair across the courtyard, the fucking piece of white plastic narrowly missing a window and slamming against the brick wall.

No one speaks, and that’s when I know no one has a fucking clue where our two prospects are.

“It’s all sounding a bit fucking suss,” Spud snaps. “They were there when we left and then all of a fucking sudden, the pigs turn up and they are gone. ”

“They set off the alert,” Jols offers. “But maybe the police took them? Or maybe they ran thinking they’ll get into trouble by letting them in.”

“Too fucking right, they’re in trouble.” Smitty hisses. “What the fuck did the cops want?”

“Compliance check.” Stocky offers, “Amongst other things.”

“What fucking other things?” I step forward, my gun still tight in my hand, ready to fucking kill.

The way Stocky glances at the Doxies, and then at Jols has me fucking grinding my teeth with impatience, so I turn my sights to the one woman I know won’t fucking lie to me. “Jols?”

“Look, things got a little out of hand,” she gestures to our clearly battered men, “and after checking some of the rooms, the pigs determined that most of the men weren’t here, threatening the breach of lockdown fines.”

“Those fucking cunts,” Smitty snarls.

“Yeah. Twenty K per missing man.” Jols continues, before disbelieving murmurs float up around us as the men protest.

“So, they are fining us?” Smitty asks but Jols shakes her head.

“They took payment in another way.”

She doesn’t have to say more for us to get her meaning, and Smitty picks up another chair and proceeds to break it in another fit of rage.

As he smashes up yet another fucking chair, my eyes dart to my room.

Is Abbey okay? Did she stay hidden?

“Who!” Smitty roars. “Which one of my beautiful Doxies did they defile?”

Dragging my gaze from my room, I watch as Wendy, Celina, Nessy and Helina slowly step forward.

“Fuck!” Smitty rages, even as he steps up to Celina and cups her face. “What did they ask you to do, baby?”

She shrugs, offering him a smile that doesn’t meet her eyes. “It was just a blowjob.”

He growls. “Their dicks were in your mouths?” Smitty asks, turning his gaze to the other Doxies even as his hands remain framing Celina’s cheeks.

“Yes.” Wendy speaks up, and that’s when I notice how sticky her hair looks.

Those putrid fucking pigs.

Smitty turns his eyes back to Celina. “I’m sorry, baby. I’ll clean you up.”

“That’s not all they wanted,” Wendy snaps, her eyes flashing to me before returning to Smitty, who has now stepped away from Celina.

It’s then that I notice Jols glaring at Wendy, and all the Doxies shifting uncomfortably.

“Well, what the fuck else did they want?” Smitty snaps, clearly impatient.

“They were looking for a girl that was kidnapped from Fox Pines.” Wendy pouts her lips with far too much fucking attitude as she shoots me a glare.

Oh.

Fucking.

No.

My gaze darts back to Jols whose face is turning red in anger, before my eyes shift straight to my door.

I step forward. “What of it?” I snap.

“What did they call her?” Wendy presses her finger to her lips as if the bitch is thinking hard. “Oh. Abbey Delany. ”

“What the fuck does that have to do with us?” Smitty snaps, but Wendy doesn’t even look at him. Her eyes remain locked on mine.

“Well, nothing, except for the fact that the girl in the picture they showed all of us,” her claw-like nail points to the Doxies and the men who stayed behind, “looks exactly like Charity.”

My eyes widen and my hand fucking twitches with the gun still gripped tightly.

I could fucking kill this bitch.

“Ringo?” Smitty turns to face me, his brow raised. “You know anything about that?”

I ignore him, my gaze moving to Jols. “Where is she? Did they fucking take her?”

Jols shakes her head. “No, they didn’t take her. Brody started yelling that you were all on your way back, and the cops just left. She’s still in your room.”

“The fuck!” Smitty booms, but my feet are moving, and I’m shoving through the gathered men to get to my room.

I need to see her. I need to make sure she’s okay.

I shove my bedroom door open, the fucking flimsy timber ricocheting off the wall with a bang, and a quick fucking scan shows the main room empty.

“Ringo! Get the fuck back here!”

Again, I ignore Smitty, knowing too well that I’m walking a very fucking fine line with him.

Storming inside, I head straight for the bathroom, and the moment I shove the door open, a piercing clap fills the air as a bullet slams into my chest.