Chapter 17

Static

Igripped my rifle with one hand and used the small knuckle on my pointer finger to dig at my ear while I flexed my jaw. It wasn”t like I needed the damn thing to pop, but I couldn”t hear shit. If I lost my hearing because of this I was going to beat the fuck out of Butcher. Sure, those assholes had piled out of the house at an alarming rate. Two had broken through windows on the lower floor, while another two squeezed through the door. I wasn”t sure where the remaining two had come from, but I was the closest, as my damn near bleeding ear drums would indicate, and though I was a fucking sharpshooter, even I would have had a hard time nailing all six fast enough.

Butcher”s grenade had saved me a bullet hole, or two. Didn”t mean I wasn”t going to bitch about the fact that he”d lobbed a grenade over my head. Anyone who”s ever thrown one knows that unless you know the technique, the fuckers had a tendency to land directly in front of you. He could have blown my ass sky high. Then again, I wouldn”t be surprised to find out he”d tossed more grenades than the rest of us combined.

We entered the barn, rifles raised, but only saw one guy, tied up in the corner, courtesy of Priest.

”That”s it?” Toxic asked, walking in from behind us. The others followed him in. ”Figured there”d be way more than that.”

”Oh, thank fuck,” I said, letting my rifle hang from its sling and resting my hands on my knees. My ears finally started working properly.

”What”s wrong with you?” Butcher asked, a grin on his face.

”You stupid dick-”

”Not now,” Lock barked. ”We need to find the drugs and get out of here before the cops and the firefighters show up.” He pointed toward the house, which was like a torch lighting up the night. ”That”s going to bring everyone here in a hurry.”

”He was the only one in the barn,” Priest called out as he climbed down from the loft.

”I”ll question him,” Butcher said, starting forward.

”How about someone who isn”t going to just kill him rather than listen to his answers,” Idaho suggested as he moved over toward the man. He yanked the cloth Priest had shoved in the man”s mouth out. ”Where are the drugs?”

”Over there.”

We all glanced over. Lock picked up one of the bricks of cocaine and gave a disgusted grunt. ”No way this is it.” His eyes met mine. ”Right?”

”Right,” I answered, ”Jerry would have told us if this was all there was. Besides, he got busted with more than is in this fucking barn right now.” He”d been transporting a load across the city. In his car. Fucking stupid.

A cop had driven past, done a double take, and pulled him over. The cocaine bricks were just lying on the seats and floorboards in plain view. The only reason the little weasel was out after only a few months served was because he”d rolled over on the guy traveling with him before his partner could do the same. Since he had no priors, I”d managed to work a deal with the DA. With Fremont. We”d been on the same side three years ago. Or so I thought.

Idaho sighed. ”Look. You can tell us where it is, or I can set this guy loose on you,” Idaho motioned to Butcher.

The man eyed Butcher as our brother sat there, practically vibrating with the chance to wreak some havoc on the fucker. His eyes darted away from us and toward the back rolling doors on the barn. Then he looked down at the ground again, but every so often his eyes slid back to those doors.

We all exchanged looks and Lock nodded to Toxic, who started whistling as he strolled toward them. With every step the man got more and more tense.

”I”m not telling you assholes anything,” he snapped as Toxic opened the doors.

Shouting caught my attention as Hellfire grabbed Butcher by the back of the cut, hauling him away from the guy on the ground. ”Not yet,” Hell said, cool as a cucumber despite the murderous look Butcher was giving him over his shoulder.

”Toxic?” Lock called out.

Hush was walking that way, and they were speaking together while Toxic motioned toward something. Hush looked over. ”I think we have an idea of where it is, Prez.”

Lock studied them for a minute then nodded. ”Hell.”

”Yeah.”

”Let him go.”

We all walked away while Butcher was left alone in the barn with the sole remaining witness.

”Rip,” Lock said as we walked outside. ”Go back to the truck. Get your laptop. Make sure there”s nothing to tie us to this shit. If there are any cameras, erase the footage. You know the drill.”

”Sure thing, Lock,” Rip said, peeling off and heading toward our rides.

”Smoke, Ricochet, you”re with him,” Lock added.

We caught up with Toxic and Hush, who were halfway across a field.

”What the fuck are we looking at?” I asked.

”Why”s there a crane out here?” Idaho asked at the same time.

We stopped near a pond. Toxic put his hands on his hips and surveyed it. ”Fucking strange to have a full ass pond out here.”

”Isn”t that normal for ranches?”

A scream echoed through the darkness and I glanced over my shoulder toward the barn. ”Shouldn”t someone have stayed with him?” I asked.

”He”ll be fine,” Priest answered.

”I know,” I replied, ”but maybe we should have made sure he didn”t fuck that guy up too much.”

Priest just shrugged. ”He won”t be alive much longer, so what does it matter?”

”True,” I muttered. It wasn”t like I was soft hearted or anything. Idaho and I had taken out our fair share of insurgents during our time with Special Forces. But I was more of a shoot them and move on to the next enemy kind of guy. Butcher was a carve them up with a knife like a Thanksgiving Turkey man. Whatever got him off.

”Ponds are normal for ranches in places that have a fuck ton of water,” Toxic said. ”Arizona has cattle tanks.”

”What”s the difference?” Idaho asked.

”Cattle tanks are smaller,” Toxic said, sounding lost in thought. ”They”re usually shallower and hold maybe five hundred to a thousand gallons of water. The point is to allow cattle, or sheep, to walk into them and drink, without worrying about them drowning the way they could in a pond.” My eyebrows shot up as Toxic continued explaining. ”Ponds, like this one, can be up to twenty feet deep. Great for irrigation or fishing, but not ideal for watering animals. And are usually only full during monsoon season.”

We all stared at the pond, which was full to the brim with water, in January.

”How the fuck does he know all that?” Idaho asked me.

I shrugged. I”d heard the term cattle tanks, but I always assumed they were metal containers, not some dug out circle in a field where the bottom filled with water. Toxic had enlightened me on that fact.

”We”re good, Lock,” Riptide said as he and the others jogged up. ”What”re we looking at?”

”Trying to figure out why there”s a crane and a pond out here in the middle of this field,” Butcher said as he walked up. There were dark spots flecking his face. Blood.

”Looks like the main load line disappears down into the water,” Toxic pointed out.

”You think it”s attached to something down there?” Lock asked.

”One way to find out,” Rip said. He bent over and started untying his boots.

”Uh, I”d like to point out that there”s probably more than one way,” I said with a frown.

”This is faster. Priest, you have a flashlight?”

Priest pulled off the backpack he had on his back and rummaged around until he found what he was looking for. ”Should work up to fifty feet.”

”You”re not seriously diving down there?” Smoke asked.

”Can you hold your breath for four minutes?” Rip challenged with a shrug. ”Unless you want to go, Smokehouse?”

”Fuck no, I don”t want to go down there. Who the hell knows what could come up out of the deep and grab you,” he muttered.

”Pussy,” Hush chuckled.

”Fuck that. I”ll take on any man, any day. But I”m not fucking around with swamps and shit.”

”It”s a pond,” Hell said, shaking his head.

”Whatever. Pond. Swamp. River. Lake. Ocean. All the fucking same. Shit lives in those places I don”t want to deal with.”

We all laughed at that. Lock looked over at the crane. ”We could just fire it up, lift it out,” he told Rip.

”And waste time finding out that it”s not connected to shit?” Rip shook his head. ”This is quicker.” He shoved his jeans off and handed his cut to his president before yanking his shirt over his head. ”I”ll be right back.” He clicked the flashlight on and dove in before anyone else could try to stop him. Riptide was a surfer, and former Green Beret. He lived for shit like this. It was the reason he”d volunteered.

”Priest,” Lock said, looking over. ”Go grab the truck, bring it out here.”

”You think the drugs are down there?” he asked.

Lock shrugged. ”If they aren”t we”re going to need to get the fuck out of here anyway and you can bring us back to the bikes faster than we can run.”

Priest nodded and took off at a jog. Without a word, Hush followed him, to watch his back.

The sound of water splashing had us all looking down. Riptide was treading water. ”There”s a fucking shipping container down here,” he said with a wide grin. ”Cable”s attached to it.”

”Great,” Smoke muttered. ”Now get the fuck out of there.” Lock looked over at him with an arched brow. ”Sorry, Prez,” Smokehouse said, since he”d stolen Lockout”s line.

”Perfect,” Idaho said with a scowl. ”Who knows how to operate a crane?” He looked over at his brother. ”You flew birds. Any chance you could fire that up?”

”Shit. Maybe,” Lock said, scratching the back of his neck. ”I”m sure I could figure it out with enough time.”

”I can run it,” Toxic said, walking over and beginning to climb up into the cab.

”Seriously?” Idaho asked. ”I mean, I know you flew helicopters, too, but-”

”He can do a lot of shit I can”t,” Lock admitted with a chuckle.

We all moved back as the crane roared to life. Toxic maneuvered the machine with confidence and efficiency.

I looked over at Butcher. ”How does he know how to do all this shit?” I”ve seen Toxic do all sorts of bullshit since I”ve been with the club. Rebuild an engine? No problem. Reciting the differences between cattle tanks and ponds verbatim? Apparently, no issue. Now running a crane? It made me wonder what else Toxic knew how to do and where he”d picked these skills up from.

The truck pulled up behind us as Toxic set a twenty-foot shipping container down in the field. Priest and Hush hopped out and Hush walked over to the door of the container with a crowbar. A few well-placed strikes and the lock on the door crumpled and Hush pulled it off. He opened the door, and we grinned as Rip shone the flashlight inside. There, in the watertight container, were all the drugs we needed to proceed with our plan.