Ride Rough Page 6
“You don’t have to do that,” her mother said as she tried to stack a few of the dirty dishes from the counter into the too-full sink.
“You know I don’t mind,” Alexa said. It wasn’t exactly the truth. There had been a time when she first moved out of her mother’s house when she’d sworn to never deal with hoarding again. As a kid, not even her bedroom had been safe from storing the unneeded and unwanted things her mother brought home. At one point, she’d lost the use of her bedroom closet because she’d put all the stuff her mother kept dropping into her room in there until it was filled to the top.
“Still, I don’t need you to take care of me. I’m fine on my own. Always have been.” Mom shuffled to the kitchen table and retrieved her purse from the back of a chair. Grocery bags filled with things Alexa couldn’t make out buried the table next to the chair.
Her mom’s words were a lie and they both knew that, too. “Well, I like to take care of you, so it’s no problem. You letting me help makes me happy.”
For just a moment, her mother gave her the softest, most sincere smile. “You’re a good girl.”
“I try, Mom.”
“I know.” Her mother came right up to her and did something she didn’t do often—she hugged Alexa. “My baby.”
Closing her eyes, Alexa soaked in the unusual show of affection. After Tyler died, her mom had become anxious about being touched. She only seemed to tolerate it from people she knew well, and even then, she allowed it infrequently. Just another of the issues that had manifested as she’d tried to cope with Ty’s loss. Unlike her mother, Alexa never had the luxury of falling apart because someone always had to hold Cynthia Harmon together. More often than not, even when Tyler had still lived, it had been her.
“You ready?” Alexa asked quietly.
“I hate doctors,” Mom said, pulling away.
Alexa nodded. “I know you do.”
“But whatever. I’m ready. The sooner we leave, the sooner we get back. I don’t want to miss my shows.” As she moved toward the kitchen doorway, her purse caught a cracker box stacked in a recycling bin on the floor, causing an avalanche. “Just leave it,” she said when Alexa went to right the pile.
“Okay,” Alexa said. She stepped over the mess. She could deal with it tomorrow. Besides, there were only so many battles she was willing to fight today.
CHAPTER 6
The Ravens rolled into Baltimore under the cover of darkness on Friday night, the warm, humid air crackling with the electricity of an approaching summer storm. They’d ridden in six groups of five, each set of riders set to converge on one of two agreed-upon meeting points from different directions to hopefully make their approach less noteworthy. Maverick wasn’t usually one to believe in fate or any of that bullshit, but it was at least lucky that the weather might offer them some additional cover.
Maverick pulled his Harley into an underground parking garage about four blocks from their target, the Iron Cross headquarters, joining two groups that had arrived before his. A box truck waited nearby to carry any acquisitions home. Their engines rumbled inside the subterranean space, but it was far enough away to be secure, to give them a place to wait, and to make sure their efforts were coordinated with the team meeting in the second location.
Their plan wasn’t particularly sophisticated—they’d converge at one time on the location from two different directions. Infiltrate the building via multiple entrances, acquire any assets inside, and then set the place on fire, leaving the Iron Cross with nothing and pulling the rug out from underneath their efforts to take control of the city’s underworld. More than that, their loss of power would encourage the city’s other criminal elements to pick them off like sitting ducks—exactly what’d happened to the Church Gang. Hopefully the Feds would take care of the rest. And if they didn’t, the Ravens just might have to come back for more. And put these fuckers to bed once and for all.
Maverick dismounted as Dare did. They tugged off their helmets and joined the guys milling about at one end of the lot.
The cold, hard press of his handgun in the small of his back felt too damn familiar. He usually only carried when they were actively involved in a protective situation with a client, but lately it’d been one shit storm after another that’d demanded they ride hot. It was hard as hell in Maryland to get a license to carry, but the Ravens had a friend and ally in the sheriff’s department who’d helped a number of them get a permit over the years because of the protective work the club did. Not that a permit would’ve been important for a night like this, because carrying without one would be the least of the lines they were crossing.
“The storm will work in our favor,” Mav said.
“I was thinking the same thing,” Dare said, wincing and holding his arm close to his side. Maverick was worried about the guy. His injuries and surgery were too damn recent and he wasn’t supposed to be riding, but Dare wouldn’t hear of staying behind or driving his truck. Mav couldn’t really blame him on either account. “Shit, hold on.” On a grimace, Dare yanked his cell out of the pocket of his cut. “Nick, not a good time, man,” he said by way of answering.
Maverick frowned.
“What?” Dare whipped around to look at the entrance through which they’d all come. “Who?” Pause. “Sonofabitch.” Another pause, and the adrenaline Maverick had been riding all day turned pause by pause into anger. What the fuck was Nick doing? “I’m not making any promises.” Dare hung up, his hand going as if to tug at his hair, an old habit, despite the fact that it was covered by a black bandana.
“What the hell was that?” Maverick asked, the guys circling around them.
“We’re about to have company,” Dare said. The words were hardly out of his mouth before a nondescript sedan eased down the ramp and into the level where they were. Raindrops had pebbled on the car’s surface, evidence that the storm was starting, which should’ve been perfect. Maverick bit out a curse and wondered what the hell was coming at them now.
The car parked nearby, and a single man got out. Maverick peered into the car, but didn’t see anyone else.
“Chen,” Dare said as the man approached. Navy pants, white button-down, short brown hair, the guy’s looks were total Middle America.
“Who?” Maverick asked, heaving an impatient breath. “Dude, we don’t have time for this.”
“Well, you’ll be making it, Mr. Rylan,” the man said, his voice even, neutral, dispassionate.
Maverick’s eyes narrowed. “Do I know you?”
“No,” Dare said on a sigh. “But he knows us. Don’t you, Mr. Chen?”
“Indeed. Dare, good to see you again.” Chen gave a nod.
“Somebody want to explain what the fuck’s going on right now?” Phoenix said.
“Meet the Hard Ink team’s contact,” Dare said, looking over his shoulder at the gathered Ravens. “I met him at the end of their investigation.”
This guy was from the CIA? Well, fuck. This was going to be a pain in the ass, no doubt.
“So, what, did Nick tell you where to find us? Or did you strong-arm that information out of him?” Phoenix asked. Maverick nodded, his gut not yet sure who to be pissed at in all this. Thunder rumbled loud enough for the sound to reach them.
“Nick passed on your message about getting my men out, but we’ve been watching you since the assault on your place last week. Figured it was only a matter of time before you responded.” Chen laced his hands in front of him. The guy didn’t look like he could hurt a flea, but Maverick had a strange feeling that was a façade. He wanted to be underestimated, to be thought little of, and maybe not to be thought of at all.
“And you’re here now, why exactly?” Maverick asked, planting his hands on his hips.
“To ask you to stand down.”
All hell broke loose behind him, and Maverick understood the rage and aggression washing off the other men. He felt it, too.
Chen held up a hand. “Not for good. Temporarily. Hopefully just a few hours.”
Maverick nearly growled in frustration. “D—”
“Hold on, Maverick.” Dare put a hand to his chest. “We should at least hear him out.”
“Thank you,” Chen said. “You’re going to want to hear this since your intel is already outdated.”
Fucking hell. Mav traded an agitated glance with Dare.
“Welcome to tits up,” Phoenix bit out.
Chen ignored the comment. “The Iron Cross has moved the location of their deal to their headquarters. Everyone will be converging there within the next fifteen to thirty. We’re not sure what’s behind the switch because communication with our agents is limited. If you go charging in now, you risk an all-out gang war and we lose our shot at acquiring the intelligence our investigation needs. An investigation that would be near to your heart, Dare, I should think.”
“Meaning?” Dare asked. A crack of thunder split the awkward silence.
“The Iron Cross hasn’t just picked up the Church Gang’s heroin activities. They’re reviving their human trafficking trade, too. Tonight’s deal is their first sale and our shot at blowing this ring apart. And we have good reason to believe we have what we need to do just that. You strike now, and we lose intel on the players involved and the chance to rescue those women.”
“Fuck,” Maverick bit out. That tugged just as hard as his conscience as it likely did at Dare’s. Especially given that the now-destroyed Church Gang had kidnapped Haven and her best friend, Cora. Anything might’ve happened to those two, women who’d become an important part of the Ravens’ community, if the Hard Ink team hadn’t stumbled upon them during their investigation weeks ago. So this hit too close to home.
“Exactly,” Chen said.
“Where are the women now?” Dare asked.
“Presumably in transport but we don’t know from where,” Chen said. “So here’s what I propose. Wait until I get the signal from my men that they’re clear and have the women, intelligence, and evidence we need. When the club empties out later tonight, you do your thing.”
Maverick’s mind chewed on this new plan, not bothering to wonder how this guy knew their intentions. He was clearly one step ahead of them. Waiting sucked, but if it ensured their own safety and helping a group of innocents, what choice did they have? Though something about this bugged him . . . “Why are you willing to allow us to do anything here?”
Chen turned that too-observant gaze on Mav. “Shared liability. The more someone else does to take them out, the less my shop has to do.”
“I thought the CIA wasn’t supposed to do this shit inside the U.S. at all,” Phoenix said, scowling.
Chen shrugged and gave him a droll stare. “I work for the government.”
“And the government sanctions . . . this?” Phoenix asked, the arch of the eyebrow making the scar on the side of his face look more severe.
“The world’s a complicated place, Mr. Creed. Given what happened to your cousin and your friend recently, I think you’d know that as well as anyone. These are bad men who want to be worse. And they’re involved in more than I’m even sharing. They’re on a crash course with fate one way or the other. Let’s leave it at that.”
“So, what? We’re partners now?” Phoenix asked, arms crossed.
Chen shrugged with one shoulder. “In a manner of speaking.”
Chen’s words brought Maverick around more and more. The Ravens could help these women. They’d have the cover and assistance Chen and his men could provide. And it all still achieved their objectives. Mav turned to Dare. “I hate it, but I think we gotta wait.”
Dare nodded and nailed Chen with a stare. “We’ll wait. But this needs to happen tonight. We want to use the cover of the storm, and we want to be fast asleep in our beds well before dawn.” He arched a brow. Thunder rumbled again as if to emphasize the point.
“I think that can be accomplished,” Chen said with a nod.
“Given we’re stretching this out now, you got a way to keep the police out of the situation until we’re clear?” Maverick asked.
“Yes,” Chen said, offering nothing more. Well. There ya go.
“Fine,” Dare said. “We’ll play it your way. For now. But if things don’t go down like you said, we’re still doing this. So you keep up your end of the bargain, and we’ll keep up ours.”
THE SIGNAL FINALLY came at quarter after one.
“We’re about to be clear,” Chen called from where he’d been sitting in the driver’s seat of his car. “Get the word to your men. There might be a few Iron Cross left behind but it broke up about a half hour ago.”
“Doing it right now,” Dare called, his face already in his phone.
“Jesus,” Maverick said, shaking off the lethargy that hours of waiting had caused. Not hard, because the imminence of the fight fired up his adrenaline again. A few Iron Cross was worse than they’d hoped but better than if they’d gone in there hours before with the wrong intelligence. All around him, last-minute plans were being confirmed, and men were mounting up, checking their weapons, and starting their engines. He turned to Dare, gingerly straddling his ride. “D, for real. Be careful.” Maverick nailed him with a stare.
“I hear you,” he said.
Maverick grasped his cousin’s good shoulder. “I’m serious, Dare. It’s storming like a motherfucker, we’re about to ride into God knows what, and you have someone to go home to.” The sentiment made him think of Alexa, even though she wasn’t his. Still, he had promises to honor—promises he wouldn’t be able to keep if he got his ass killed tonight. And the thought of never seeing Alexa made him fucking ache. How had she gotten so far beneath his skin again in so few days? Or maybe she’d always been there, and he’d just been ignoring it.
“I hear you. And we all do. I’ll be careful.” Dare tugged his helmet on, the action clearly causing him pain.
Stubborn bastard. Family trait, though, wasn’t it?
Cursing under his breath, Maverick made for his own ride. The Night Rod came to life underneath him, the rumble of the engine sounding like an old friend saying hello.
Phoenix and Dare led them out, headlights dark, the echo of their collective engines drowning out the storm raging outside. And then they were out in it, rain lashing at them and pretty much instantly soaking through Maverick’s jeans and shirt. The visor on his helmet kept his eyes clear and hid his face, too, but the rain still limited his vision through the shield. His cut grew wet and heavy on his shoulders, but Mav didn’t mind. He liked the reminder of who he was and why they were doing this tonight.
Within a few minutes, they were in position in hiding places along the derelict street and around the edge of the waterfront compound, surveying the site and preparing to converge. The storm would no doubt prove a lifesaver, because there was plenty of evidence of unfriendlies on site. Four cars sat between his position and the building, and two Hummers sat close to a side entrance. More problematic, three men hung by the water at the back door of the long two-story building covered in old white siding. The remains of ancient signage under an old metal lamp revealed that the place had once housed some sort of shipping facility. The deluge obscured everything else.
Mav’s heart was a freight train in his chest as he positioned the semiautomatic he’d had stowed in his saddlebag. How ironic that this was one of the weapons they’d taken off the Church Gang weeks before and that the Iron Cross had more recently tried to twist their arms into selling to them. Fuckers. Time seemed to drag out as he glanced between his cell and the warehouse before him, waiting for Dare to give the signal.
His cell buzzed in his hand. Finally. Dare’s command simply read, MOVE IN.
Maverick took off, moving fast and low, pausing for cover where he could—at a fence, behind one of the cars. He was aware of the movement of the others only because he knew they were there. Otherwise, the rain was doing what they’d hoped and cloaking their
approach as they tightened the noose around the building.
This was the part that was going to suck. Crossing the big open stretch between the last of the cars and the building. Surveying the wide expanse again, Maverick double-checked the position of the men by the water and found them still seemingly oblivious. Which meant, fuck it, time to go.
He cut around the bumper and broke into a sprint, weapon in hand and at the ready.
Boom.
Maverick paused, wondering—
BoomboomBOOM!
The shock wave of the explosion knocked Maverick back on his ass. He landed hard, his head cracking against the pavement and making his ears ring. A fireball rose to the sky as debris launched into the air, falling into the water and the parking lot all around him.
“Jesus Christ,” Maverick said, dodging a flaming board that landed too fucking close for comfort. Heart in his throat, his brain slowly came back online. He found the weapon he’d dropped and surveyed the scene like he was stepping out of a fog, just able to make out some of his brothers’ movement through the deluge. Oxygen-stealing heat roared off the blaze like an impenetrable wall, the fire engulfing nearly the whole structure, particularly the end closer to the water. Weapon in shaking hands, he retreated, wanting to return to the cover of the car until he could—
Automatic gunfire erupted, the sound just audible over the storm and the inferno. Maverick dove for the ground and caught a flash of motion near the Hummers. Survivors. Fleeing the building. And coming out shooting.
A hail of bullets sailed over his head, and Maverick soldier-crawled through the mud and grime and puddles to the closest car. Rounds ricocheted off the metal as he got closer, and he wasn’t sure if they were shooting at him or if it was just his own dumb bad luck. Fuck. This took tits up to a whole new level. Where were the others? Had any of their men made it to the building before the explosion? How many of them were caught out in the open like he’d been?