Page 4 of Chief’s Addiction (Saints MC: Jacksonville, FL #2)

Chief

“What the fuck?” I crouched down behind one of the parked vehicles across from the Talons’ clubhouse. “Where’s the party?”

Morpheus pressed himself against the van beside me, his eyes narrowed. “Something’s not right. This place should be crawling with patches and bitches by now.”

I scanned the warehouse parking lot. There were only a handful of bikes parked out front, and the building was eerily quiet for what was supposed to be a celebration. There was no music coming from inside, no nothing.

“Zero.” I spoke into the comm. “You seeing this?”

His voice crackled in my ear. “Thermal imaging shows minimal movement inside. Six, maybe seven bodies total. Far cry from the twenty-plus I was expecting.”

Tension built in my shoulders. Things weren’t going according to plan at all, but there was no way in hell we were backing down.

“Think it’s a trap?” Rage asked from my left.

“Or bad intel,” Reign added, ducking down beside Morph.

“My intel was solid,” Zero growled in our ears. “Something else must have changed.”

I weighed our options. We could abort the mission, regroup, and try again another night when everyone was on site. Or we could proceed and hope that Spike was inside. That was the mother fucker we were after. Cut off the head of the snake and the body would die.

“We move forward,” I decided. “Rage, you’re still on point at the front. Killer, take the back as planned. Everyone else, stick to your assignments. If there are fewer of these fuckers inside to kill, then fucking great.”

My men nodded, checking their weapons one last time.

“On my mark,” I said, eyes on my watch. “Three... two... one... GO.”

We moved as a solid unit, silent and deadly.

Rage, Morph, Dread, and I headed for the front entrance while Killer, Havoc, and Reign circled around to the back. Zero stayed behind in the van, monitoring police channels and security feeds.

The lack of sound from inside was unnerving as we approached the front door. Zero was right about one thing. Something had clearly fucking changed.

Dread positioned himself just to the side of the door, his shotgun locked and loaded. I nodded once, and he delivered a brutal kick that splintered the lock. The door crashed open, and we surged inside, weapons raised and ready to shoot.

“Payback time, motherfucker!” Dread bellowed, already firing at the first man with a Talon’s patch that he saw. The skinny fucker barely had time to reach for his piece before the shotgun blast ripped through his chest, painting the wall behind him red.

From the back of the warehouse came the sound of the rear door being breached, followed by gunfire and shouts. Killer and his team were in.

I followed behind Dread through the front room, my Glock finding its target in a tall fucker with a shaved head who was fumbling with an AK-47. Two shots center mass dropped him where he stood.

“Clear!” Dread called from my right, having checked behind the bar.

Gunfire erupted from upstairs, followed by a strangled scream that cut off abruptly. Killer’s voice came through the comm. “Second floor, east side clear. Two targets down.”

“West side clear,” Morpheus added seconds later. “Found their stash room. Nothing major; some blow, pills, couple grand in cash.”

I moved toward the hallway, stepping over the bodies. Before I could reach it, a door flew open, and a heavyset man with a Talon cut stretched across his shoulders came barrelling out, firing wildly.

Shit.

Thank fuck for fast instincts. I dove behind a table that had been flipped over just as bullets splintered the wood above my head.

“Fuck!” I growled, feeling a sharp sting as a fragment of wood sliced across my cheek.

Rage appeared out of nowhere and I’d never been more glad to see the big bastard. His eyes flicked to the scratch on my cheek. “You hit?”

I lifted my hand and touched the spot. A little sting, but I’d had worse. “No.”

He nodded and with little concern for his own safety, he jumped out from behind the table and charged the shooter.

Tubby managed to get off one more shot, thankfully missing his mark, before Rage was on him. In the blink of an eye, Rage drew his knife and thrust it into Tubby’s throat, twisting once before he yanked it out. Completely unphased by the gnarly arterial spray, Rage was back on his feet.

“You sure you’re good?” he asked, already moving on to the next threat.

“You’re fucking crazy.” I shook my head, pushing to my feet. “What’s behind door number two?”

“Door number two?” Dread eyed the gash on my cheek as he came up beside me.

I motioned to the door big Tubby had slammed shut behind him after he came flying out of it. “That big fucker was in there.”

Stepping over Tubby’s lifeless body, I tested the handle.

Locked. “Need a key or something.”

Dread moved past me, eyeing the lock. “Let me try.”

He lifted his booted foot and rammed it against the door. It flexed with a loud boom but held. He kicked again, this time with more force, and the frame separated from the wall.

“Goddamn,” he hissed, shaking out his hand after managing to unlock the door through the gap. “That’s reinforced steel.”

“Smart choice for the door. Stupid they didn’t make sure it was secured to something equally as strong,” I thought out loud as I squeezed through the opening.

With my gun ready, I found myself standing at the top of a dark staircase. The stench of human waste wafted up the steps.

“What the fuck?” I pulled the neck of my shirt up over my nose as unease pooled in my gut.

I motioned for Dread to follow behind me as I descended the stairs. I had a really bad fucking feeling.

When I got to the bottom, I stopped dead in my tracks.

“Oh. My. Fucking. God.”

The basement was a lot bigger than I expected, with concrete walls and a dirt floor. Wrought iron cage-like structures lined both sides of the space with a narrow walkway running right down the center. Each cage had thin mattresses on the floor and a five-gallon bucket pushed off to the side.

And huddled at the back of those cages.

Were women.

Young, terrified women.

“Jesus Christ,” Dread whispered, moving in beside me and lowering his weapon.

I started to count. One. Two… There were six of them and they were in bad shape.

I’d seen a lot of shit in my forty-six years, but the sight of the empty, vacant stares on their faces… I knew, whatever’d been done to them, it was fucking bad.

I holstered my gun and approached slowly, hands raised in a way that I hoped conveyed that I only wanted to help. “We’re not here to hurt you,” I kept my voice low despite the fury building inside me. “We’re going to get you out of here.”

Not a single woman responded.

“Dread, get Morpheus down here,” I said, careful not to spook the wide-eyed woman watching me. “And find the keys to these cages.”

He nodded and sprinted back up the stairs. I scanned the room, taking in the full scope of the nightmare we’d stumbled upon.

There was a metal table with restraints on the opposite side of the space. Cameras were mounted on tripods.

What the absolute fuck?

“It’s gonna be okay,” I said, knowing the words didn’t mean shit. “We’re going to help you.”

A blonde with a bruised face finally met my eyes. “Are you a cop?” Her voice was flat, devoid of any hope.

“No, darlin’. Not a cop,” I answered hearing the sound of boots thundering down the stairs.

Morpheus appeared first and then Rage moved in beside him. Their eyes were the size of saucers as they took in the room.

“Motherfucking Christ,” Morpheus breathed.

My thoughts exactly.

Rage’s mouth opened but nothing came out. He, too, couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“We gotta get them out of there and get the fuck gone before the cops show up.”

Morpheus looked around the space and made a beeline for the desk in the corner. He yanked open the top drawer and riffled through whatever shit was inside. “Got 'em,” he called, holding up a ring of keys.

I held up my hand and he tossed them over. “I’m going to open this now, darlin’.”

The woman inside pressed herself further into the corner.

“Yeah, I know, sweetheart. But I need you to trust me. We’re not punk bitches. We don’t hurt women,” Morpheus added as I worked the lock.

The lock clicked open, but the woman made no move to exit.

“It’s okay,” Rage said, his normally no-nonsense tone surprisingly soft. “No one’s going to touch you.”

One by one, I moved to each cage, unlocking them while murmuring reassurances. Some of the women came out cautiously, while others stayed huddled inside their prisons.

Creaking from the stairs drew all our attention. Morph and Rage lifted their guns. “We need to go,” came Killer’s deep rumble. When he made it to the bottom of the steps he froze. The color drained from his dark face, and something sinister flashed in his eyes.

“Prez,” he said, his voice tight. “Three Talons made it out the back. Spike and two others. They took off in a red Chevy.”

I ran a hand through my hair. “They see your face?”

Killer shook his head. “No, but I’m pretty sure they know it was us who hit ‘em tonight.”

I nodded, processing this new problem.

Spike and his merry band of dumbasses escaping meant loose ends. And loose ends meant men left to regroup and retaliate.

Fuck .

“We’ll deal with them later,” I sighed. “Right now, we need to get these women out of here and torch this place.”

“What about all of this shit?” Morpheus asked quietly, helping a rail-thin redhead to her feet.

I considered it briefly. “We’ll have to handle it. Too many bodies upstairs to go making an anonymous tip.”

“Agreed,” Rage said, gently draping a towel around the shoulders of a woman wearing nothing but a torn shirt. “What about the girls? Hospital?”

I shook my head. “No. Doc can check them out at the clubhouse. Then we’ll figure out how to get them back home to their families.”

Slowly, we managed to coax the women from their cages. Some could walk on their own; others needed to be supported or carried.

“Back the fuck up,” Killer snarled.

I spun around to find my enforcer towering over Reign who was trying to help the last woman to her feet.

Reign held up his hands. “My bad, brother.”

Eyes narrowed and brows pulled down low, the big guy was on the verge of losing his shit.

“The fuck?” Morph said under his breath from beside me.

I didn’t have a fucking clue.

Turning back to the woman, Killer’s face softened as he held out his hand. She looked from his eyes to his hand and to my surprise she took it.

Holding onto her hand, he dipped low and scooped her up into his arms.

Thankfully, she didn’t protest because I don’t think he would have put her down.

Something was definitely up with my enforcer.

“Dread,” I called, moving toward the stairs. “Plant the charges. I want this place in ashes.”

With a flash of excitement in his eyes, he disappeared back up the stairs.

In minutes everyone was loaded into the vans and Dread had the place rigged to blow.

Dread: Five minutes

Me: Let’s roll

I scrolled down a couple of names and started typing out another message.

Me: Got a situation

Doc: What kind of situation

I glanced back at the women.

Me: the delicate kind

Doc: Be there in twenty

Just as I shoved my phone back in my pocket a massive explosion lit up the night sky behind us. I glanced out the side view mirror as the Talons’ clubhouse erupted into flames

“Zero,” I called into the comm. “Monitor all emergency channels.” We’d been careful not to leave any trace that we’d been there, but it never hurt to keep an ear to the ground.

“On it,” came his reply.

When we finally made it across town to the clubhouse, Doc and the prospects were outside waiting. Morph pulled up close to the door, trying to make things easier.

The back doors opened and I glanced over my shoulder.

“Shit,” Lid swore under his breath.

As I watched my men help the women from the van, a million thoughts were running through my head. Who were the Talons working with? How had we not noticed this shit was happening in our own backyard?

“This is fucked up,” Morpheus said.

“Really fucked up,” I ran a hand over the top of my head. “We need to find Spike.”

“Yeah,” he grunted.

I met his gaze and could see the torment staring back at me.

“This—” he gestured toward the clubhouse “—this changes things. Those sons of bitches were trafficking women right under our noses.”

I clenched my jaw. They sure as fuck had been. And if the Talons were running a trafficking operation in our territory, they had connections. This went beyond their low-level operation.

“Set up a call with Riddick, Viper, and Trojan. They need to know what we found.” It wasn’t usual protocol to drag in the Presidents from the other charters, but if this shit was happening in my backyard, there was a possibility it was happening in theirs too.

“What about Tacoma and Denali?”

Fuck.

Tacoma was the president of the Kings and he ran shit in the panhandle. And Denali was running shit in St. Louis. With the Bastard Saints just patching over a couple of weeks ago, they would need to be briefed too.

“Yeah. Reach out to everyone.”

While Morpheus pulled out his phone and started making calls, I headed inside to check on our guests.

I had barely stepped through the door when Bubbles was on me. “Two of them are talking. They’re from all over, Chief. Georgia, Louisiana, South Carolina, there’s even one from North Dakota.”

Shit.

That was one hell of a pipeline.

“They were taken from nightclubs, bus stations, the redhead was snatched from her college campus.”

“How long ago?” I asked, the words tasting bitter in my mouth.

“Not long. A few weeks for most of them.”

Christ Almighty.

My phone started going off in my pocket. “Fuck this whole day,” I grumbled, pulling it out.

Viper’s name flashed on the screen. “Yeah?” I answered, moving back toward the front door for privacy.

“Morph says you have some trouble,” Viper’s deep voice rumbled through the line.

I leaned against the wall, suddenly exhausted. “Fuck, brother. Trouble doesn’t even cover it. We’ve got a bigger problem than we thought.”

“Talk to me.”

For the next few minutes, I filled him in on what we’d found, not sparing any details. Viper listened in silence, the occasional grunt letting me know he was still on the line.

“This ain’t just a local operation,” he said when I finished. “If they’re moving girls from one end of the country to the other, it has to be part of a bigger operation.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

“You need backup? I can send some brothers your way.”

I considered the offer. “Not yet. But keep them on standby. Spike, the fuckhead who was in charge of the shit show and a couple others managed to get away. Zero’s trying to track them, but if they regroup with reinforcements...”

“Say the word and we’ll ride north,” Viper assured me.

“Do I need to be worried about Cora?” came a voice I hadn’t heard in quite a while.

Sparrow.

My head jerked back at the mention of his sister’s name. Cora Allen was the woman who’d walked away from me five years ago. Truth be told, I thought she’d left town.

“She’s here?” My voice was calm despite the tightness in my chest.

“What the fuck are you talking about? Yeah she’s there. She never left.”

How the fuck did I not know that? I shook my head. “Fuck, brother. Thought she’d moved away years ago.”

“Naw. She’s got a place downtown. Been working a few jobs while she saves up the money to get her business off the ground.”

Her surf shop. How could I have forgotten?

“Look. With this shit going down... maybe you could swing by, make sure she’s alright?” he continued.

I almost laughed at the irony.

The last time I saw Cora, she made it clear she never wanted to see my ass again. I’d really screwed the pooch by not being honest with her about my wife. Not that the marriage had been real. I’d only married Tonya because she’s claimed to be pregnant with my baby.

News flash: She wasn’t.

Once I’d learned the truth, I’d filed for divorce. Unfortunately, that was something I’d neglected to explain to Sparrow’s sister.

“I’ll swing by,” I found myself saying. “Make sure she’s safe.”

“Appreciate it.” I could hear the relief in his voice. “She’s stubborn as hell and will probably tell you she doesn’t need checking in on. But with these fuckers still out there...”

It was better safe than sorry. He wasn’t wrong.

“I’ll handle it,” I don’t know why the fuck I was offering to do it myself.

“I’ll text you her address,” Sparrow said. “And Chief? She doesn’t need to know about what went down tonight.”

“Understood,” I replied.

After ending the call, I stood outside for a few more minutes, gathering my thoughts.

I had six traumatized women inside who needed medical attention and safe passage home. Somewhere in the city, three Talon members were licking their wounds and regrouping.

And now, I had to check to track down a woman who hated my fucking guts.