Halo immediately understands the instruction. Vex takes another step before it computes. I pull my phone out of my pocket and turn on the flashlight, swinging it in the direction of what I saw. I crouch and throw the beam of light at eye level. “There,” I whisper. “A wire, ’bout six inches off the ground. Trip wire maybe. Possibly a proximity sensor.”
Halo crouches so he can see it too.
I switch to comms. “We found evidence of wires placed about six inches above ground.”
“Got it,” King says.
“Seems like there are four guys, two outside, two inside,” Spark replies through our comms.
I look toward an outbuilding. There’s a light on where there wasn’t when we first arrived. “Got them,” I say.
“Do you see anyone closer to the main building?” I ask.
There’s static on the line that hurts my ear, and I wince.
“King?” I ask.
“Not me.” His voice crackles. “Spark?”
I pull the earpiece from my ear, check the connection, then place it back in. “Spark, buddy. I know you’re a focused motherfucker, but check in.”
There’s a hiss.
“I’ll go check on him,” King says.
“Help ... fuck.” The voice is Bates. It’s quiet, raw.
“On our way,” King shouts.
“Trouble,” I say to my team. “Spark and Bates.” And we take off at speed, retracing our steps to avoid any other trip wires. As we round the corner, three men are pounding on Spark. A sucker punch from one of them sends him to the floor.
Then boots to the face and gut follow as we run to help.
One of them notices us running in their direction. “Shit, there are more of them,” he shouts and starts to run for the outbuilding.
Halo has his weapon drawn and drops the guy. With King and his team running from the rear, it’s impossible to fire without risking a bullet going astray and hitting one of them. But our presence is enough to make the assailants flee.
Switch is on the floor checking Bates’s vitals.
“Get Spark and his bike into the van,” King instructs, and Halo and I help him stand. He’s groaning, and blood is pouring down his face. We half drag, half carry him. He’s a big guy, and we grunt under the effort.
“Said we ... killed ... his brother,” Spark mumbles.
Once he’s seated, I realize I would have killed a man for him. I had no thoughts about protocol or rules.
I need to resign my position with the ATF.
I need to get the fuck out.
Put some distance between me and the club for a little while maybe, then come back in a year or so.
When I can be who I truly am.
But as I get on my bike and follow the van back to the clubhouse, I realize that’s stupid. Because to the MC, I’ll always be Phillip “Saint” York. My road name is a lie. My name is a lie. My past is a lie.
When we get to the clubhouse, I help carry Spark to his room so Switch can do what he does best. He’s busy getting stuff out of the medical kit. The first thing is a syringe. For painkillers? Antibiotics? Who the hell knows.
“Need any help?” I ask as I remove Spark’s shirt.
