27. Switch

27

SWITCH

T he ride to the docks takes an hour. Halo had us weave off the highway and overshoot the Port Newark-Elizabeth Marine terminal. It's standard practice when we're doing a weapons pickup from the docks. Along with different days of the week and times of night.

Sticking to routine in our line of work is a recipe for disaster. Makes it easier for the FBI to track us, or worse, our enemies to ambush us.

I'd give anything to be on my bike tonight.

Clear sky.

Full moon.

Even though it's cold for mid-November.

Soon it will be too cold for these runs to be fun.

But as we approach our entrance into the docks, the skin on the back of my neck prickles.

I don't understand if this is true foreshadowing, if I really feel like something's off.

Or if I'm simply out of my depth, doing something I feel ill prepared for.

This is my first outing with the club since the accident. Loss of memory has taken away the value of experience. I feel like a plumber sent to do an electrician's work with the wrong toolbox.

"It's too quiet," Vex says.

Bike brake lights come on in front of us. Clutch and Halo pull up alongside King and discuss something. I see Saint looking up at the large dock building to our left.

The docks look deserted. But I can't recall what they previously looked like. "Isn't it always?"

"We pay a lot of people to turn the other way when we ride in. So, there's always someone. It hasn't been the same since Jasper Haven, our contact, was killed. Now we have this new guy. Dougie. Doogie. I don't remember. He reached out to the club. Checked out as Haven's brother-in-law. Said he knew about the extra money Haven made. But I don't trust the guy as far as I can throw him."

"You think he's bad."

Vex shakes his head. "Worse, I think he's too good. I feel like the very first time he's picked up by the cops, he'll confess the shit out of everything to avoid going down."

The bikes slowly begin to move again, and I take in the docks at night, with their tall cranes and lifting gear illuminated at the very top. The occasional muted light eases our path and reflects off the water.

We pull up near a container, and King quickly dismounts. There is a number-combination lock on it, and King enters the code quickly.

Vex reverses toward the container until we come to a stop. In the side mirror, I see Bates pull the container door open.

I jump out and unlock the rear doors to the van.

It strikes me that if any of this goes south, Vex and I will be the ones taking the fall. We'll be the ones in the van with a shit load of weapons. All the more reason for me to be vigilant. I look around, trying to make sense of what I'm seeing.

I reach for my gun, more to check it's there than seeing anything to point it at. It rests reassuringly in its holster.

Halo and Spark stand on either side of the shipping container, looking around the lot like I am, while Bates, Niro, Clutch, and King load the truck. I notice there is a difference between the way the veterans hold their weapons versus the rest. Our hold is active, ready to fire immediately.

Vex stays in the van, ready to drive if need be. For a heartbeat, I wonder if he'd drive off without me. But something tells me he'd no sooner leave me behind than chop off his own arm.

A rat scurries into the warehouse; its claws scratching on the concrete only amplify just how fucking quiet it is.

I look at the containers in the next storage bay over and see the slightest flash of light escape from the bottom of the doors. A second look shows the door is not locked, just pushed shut, but the light is long gone.

Waving, I grab Halo's attention and, using hand signals, gesture that I suspect there are people in the container. The silent message ripples through the brothers. The others hustle to get the weapons into the van.

Spark comes around to my side of the van as Halo disappears, only to reappear on the opposite side of the rogue container. With help from King, Saint is boosted on top of the container the weapons are in. He lies down on top and points his rifle toward the unbolted container door.

When the last of the weapons has been loaded, the others lean into where we are focused. "You sure you saw something?" King whispers when he comes to stand next to me.

Did I?

A flash of light.

An unlocked door.

Are my insecurities playing a part in what I'm seeing?

BAT.

The acronym comes out of nowhere. But I do what it suggests. I breathe, adjust, and think.

"I saw light."

And just as I utter the words, the doors are shoved wide open. Men dressed from head to toe in black pour out. Bullets are fired. I shove King to cover behind our shipping container's door.

Autopilot kicks in. Muscle memory. Somehow, I know exactly what to do without a single deliberate thought.

Opening fire, I take out the two men closest to me.

I'll deal with the knowledge I'm taking lives later. Because in this moment, it's more important that my life isn't one of the ones taken.

Halo takes out three before getting shot in the leg. He limps behind a different container, but the sound of bullets pinging off metal suggests he's been followed and is still being shot at.

But they underestimate what those few seconds of me seeing them gave us. Saint, on the roof of the container, begins to take them out one at a time. I run behind the hood of the van and provide cover as Bates, Niro, and Spark run behind me, aiming to come at our assailants from behind.

When they are safely across the lot, I head for Halo, coming up behind the asshole pointing a gun at him and pistol whipping him to the ground.

"Where are you shot?" I ask.

"Thigh." Halo grunts. "Feels like a through and through that missed bone."

I pull out my knife. Shift my warmer layers out of the way and cut a three-inch strip off the bottom of my shirt before tying it around Halo's thigh as a tourniquet.

"Motherfucker," he whispers.

"Sorry. I'll take a look when we get out of here."

But from the explosive sounds of gunshots hitting containers, we're taking more fire than we might be able to handle.

BAT.

Those three letters come to me again.

Breathe. We'll get out of here.

Adjust. I need more firepower.

Think.

"Swap weapons," I say to Halo as I switch my Glock for Halo's assault rifle.

The sound of gunfire increases.

I hear Bates yell Niro's name.

There are too many of them. We were ten. They must have twenty. Maybe even thirty. King is out of ammo but he's astraddle a guy, pulverizing his face with the handle of his gun.

I run to where Vex and Spark are taking heavy fire from four assailants on the other side of the lot, and I open fire indiscriminately. The volume is way too loud for us to have not attracted attention.

"We need to get out of here," I shout to Spark.

"Tell those motherfuckers that," he replies.

"They want the weapons," Vex says. "I have the keys to the van, but they could boost it."

We make our way slowly back to the van. I grab Halo, allowing him to put all his weight on me. But it's too much. My left arm still doesn't function properly. My right is holding my weapon.

Seeing us struggle, Spark steps in and grabs Halo from me. "Provide cover. Go."

I hate the feeling of helplessness.

That I somehow wasn't enough this evening.

And that's an indulgent thought when we are still taking live fire.

We get Halo to the van and slump him in the back.

My ammo runs out about ten steps away. "Fuck," I curse.

Bates has his back to a container, his knives in his hands. He must be out of ammo too.

Saint climbs down from the top of the container but is met by two assailants.

We're losing ground.

We're out of time.

I can't believe Sophia and I survived what happened to us for me to die at the New Jersey docks.

Two vans screech around the corner, and more men join the fray, but then I hear the accent and breathe a sigh of relief. It's the fucking Irish.

I watch Cillian's men, on fresh legs and with surplus ammo, take over and finish the fight we started.

Vex offers King some ammo; he takes it and runs to back Bates up while Spark provides strategic cover.

"We need to get ready to get out of here," I tell Vex. "Halo. Give me your keys. I'll ride your bike back."

The Irish wrap up the rest of the men. At least, those who don't run when they realize they are outnumbered.

"Let's go," King shouts.

"You're welcome," Cillian says as he reaches us.

"I'll throw you a party in thanks once we get the fuck out of here," King says, glancing over his shoulder.

"That's what allies do," Cillian says. "We show up when the other is in trouble and help. We help you on your side of the dock, biker. And you help us on our side."

I think through everything that has happened. "Wait. Those men were Sicilian."

Cillian nods. "Indeed."

"How the fuck did they know we were here?" I ask.

King turns to me. "Your wife running her mouth?"

"Watch how you speak about my wife," I say. I don't need to ask her to know she wouldn't. I trust her. "She didn't."

"You have a Sicilian wife. Now I'm fucking intrigued," Cillian says.

I turn to face him. "My wife is none of your fucking business. But even if she had, how did you know to be here tonight?"

King steps up to Cillian. "I'd like to hear an answer to that."

Cillian's men step up behind Cillian, their weapons pointed in our direction. "Perhaps I heard something. Perhaps I thought I'd leave you to handle it alone, so you got a flavor of what I'm facing on the other side of this fucking water."

"You set us up, you motherfucking cunt," Clutch says.

Cillian grins. "Lesson learned about who your allies are, yeah?"

"We're not fucking friends," King says. "If we were, you would have told us what their plans were. Not waited until we were screwed."

Cillian reaches out and squeezes King's shoulder.

He shrugs it off angrily.

"I never said we were friends. I said we were allies. Ni mhaireann solas na maiden don lá. No morning sun lasts all day. Most relationships have lifespans. Many come to an end when they are no longer mutually beneficial. You either help me with the Italians, or I let them eat you."

Spark steps forward. "And what would you tell Iris if I'd been killed tonight? What would you tell our kid?"

Cillian looks up at the sky for a moment. "I'd tell him it was part of the life he was born into, whether he wanted it or not. And that's always been the difference between me and all of you. And that his father never understood that."

Spark lurches for Cillian, and we hear the sound of weapons being primed as both Clutch and I grab Spark around the waist and chest.

"Think about it," Cillian says, looking around at the dead bodies on the dock. "Then call me when you're ready to truly act like allies worthy of the fucking Irish."