Angels and Ashes (Heaven's Rejects MC Book 2) (18 page)

A knock at the door signals me that we’re ready to move on our target. Slipping through the door, I find Hero and Ratchet on the other side.

“You ready to handle business?” Hero questions.

“You’re fucking right I am. I’m ready to bury this shit and move on.”

Ratchet and Hero both nod as we make our way down to the waiting SUV with Voodoo and Irons. While the bikes would be faster, they wouldn’t exactly be considered inconspicuous. The name of today’s mission is re-con, and we need to look like any normal tourists, minus the guns and knives. I slide into the front seat of the SUV while Voodoo loads his drone in the back. When I asked him to pack it back at the clubhouse, you would have thought you were telling a kid that you were taking him to Disneyland. I don’t understand his obsession with technology, but maybe I’m too old school for it. If it wasn’t a necessity, I doubt I would even have a cell phone. Being off the grid is far more appealing to me than being connected twenty-four hours a day.

He slides into the car as Tyson and Thrasher walk out of their room in plain clothes and head for their bikes. I elected to keep Tyson and Thrasher behind to see if they could find out some information from some of the club’s former drug contracts down here. Even if the club is legitimate now, I still like to keep tabs on our former business partners just in case shit were to go south. Some might call it stalking, but to me, it’s self-preservation and insurance that the status quo won’t be changed.

Rolling down the window, I motion for Thrasher and Tyson to come to the passenger side of the car.

“You both know the drill: if the situation isn’t ideal, back the fuck off. There’s no need to draw any unwanted attention while we check this hacienda out. Make sure to check in with me or V every hour, and we’ll do the same. If shit goes radio silent on either end, drop everything and leave. No use in more of us getting killed than necessary. You got it?”

“Yeah, Prez. We’re good.”

“Be safe, my brothers,” I plead.

Voodoo turns on the ignition as Thrasher and Tyson roll out of the parking lot. The GPS lights up on the dashboard, and V punches in the coordinates of our destination. The screen flashes before a route is up on the map. He puts the SUV into gear and follows the robotic male voice barking out instructions.

“Is it just me or is the female voice less annoying than the dude’s?” Hero asks from the back.

“Nah, man. You’re just used to being Bossed around by your old lady,” Irons chimes in with a laugh. “Do your balls like living in her purse now?”

I hear a whack from behind me and turn to see Irons clutching his shoulder like a little kid who fell off his bike. Hero just smiles as he shrugs at my glare.

“Do I need to come back there and separate you two?”

Hero continues to smile as he turns away and faces the window while Irons just shrugs.

“He punches like a bitch anyway, Prez. My arm is already fine.”

“Cool it, Irons,” I warn gruffly. “Don’t stir Hero up. I have a feeling he’s over there thinking about all the ways he could kill you before you could even blink. Aren’t ya, Hero?”

Hero doesn’t even blink or look back before answering. “He’ll never see it coming.”

I laugh as a horrified look forms on Irons’ face. He has no idea that Hero is fucking with him. It’s too Goddamn funny to let him in on the joke, so I decide to just let him stew a while longer. The car and its occupants hush to a silence as the miles go by. Fifteen minutes later, the GPS gives the warning for the destination when Voodoo abruptly pulls off next to another boarded-up building just south of our target and parks behind it.

“What the fuck, V? Robo dick says we have a half a mile left to go,” Hero shouts as he tightly grips the oh shit bar above the window. “Fuck, man, could we get a little warning before you peel off toward a Goddamn building?”

Voodoo puts the SUV in park and swivels to face Hero. “Did you piss in your frilly panties there, VP?”

“You only wish you could get into these panties, V. Now, what gives? What’s with the brake first, explain later actions?”

Voodoo returns to facing the front of the car as he points off toward the roadside.

“There’s some cars parked on the opposite side of the road from the building. We can hide out here and watch from a distance. Once they leave, I’ll fly the drone in to check out the exterior of the building and monitor for motion before we check it out.”

“So, James Bond shit?” Hero jokes with a raised brow.

“Yes, James Bond shit, or would you rather go in there guns blazing and hope that no one is home?”

“Damnit, I’ve always wanted to do a stake-out, but I’d hoped to have a sexy blonde partner with me instead of you three. I could have passed the time quicker with her,” Irons declares.

We all laugh as Voodoo grabs his binoculars and watches the cars. We sit there for hours sweltering in the hot desert sun until finally, the parked cars begin to pull out one by one.

“It’s show time, Prez,” Voodoo quips excitedly as he pulls up the latch and hops out of the car. The back hatch is open before any of us make it back to him. Voodoo’s hands fly while he fusses over the hunk of flying metal that is currently taking residence in the back. He slowly lowers it to the ground before reaching back into the SUV and pulling out the remote control. Voodoo steps away from the drone and motions for us to follow. He methodically flicks a series of switches before the propellers of the drone begin to rotate and kick up puffs of dust around it.

“Time to earn your keep, Rhonda.”

Hero, Irons, and I quickly look at each other in confusion.

Jesus Christ. He named the fucking thing.

The drone lifts from the ground in a slight motion before it begins to ascend higher and higher in the air while Voodoo walks beside it and guides it with the controller away from the building and toward our target. He follows it to the very edge of the building before flicking on the camera screen. We all huddle around him and watch as it flies over the dry, dusty sand toward our target. Within just a few minutes, the drone hovers outside of what looks to be an abandoned building. Voodoo maneuvers it and pauses at each window, trying to get a visual of the interior, but it doesn’t work; the windows are too dirty to see through. He continues to hover as he scans the grounds before the drone begins to fly back to us.

After it safely returns and Voodoo tucks it away, we form a circle and decide the next plan of action.

“Place looks empty, Prez, but as we all know, looks can be deceiving. How do you want to do this?”

“The backdoor to the building looked to be hanging on by a thread and would be the easiest to disguise our entry if it indeed is still in use. Hero will take the front, and I will circle around back while you are the look-out for unexpected visitors. Irons, I want you to stay behind while we check this shit out.”

“You got it, Boss,” Irons grunts.

V adjusts his vest and draws out his weapon. “Let’s go break down a door. Can I at least kick it in, Raze? I’ve always wanted to do that. Stallone makes it look so easy in the movies.”

“Fine, you can kick it down, but for fuck’s sake, stow the cheesy action movie lines that I can see are running through your head.”

“You take all of the fun out of this,” he quips.

The three of us slowly move away from our hidden enclosure toward the building. Voodoo darts and ducks behind cacti and other objects like he’s the guy from
Mission Impossible
. He really needs to get out of the tech room more often because I think these action movies he constantly streams are taking away his grip on reality. As we make our final approach on the building, Hero begins moving his hands in tactical signals by pointing and waving in different directions. Voodoo and I both stop and look to him as his hands fly in a flurry in front of him before he stops and waits for our reply. Voodoo shrugs and throws up his middle finger in his response which pisses Hero off. I grab the back of Voodoo’s shirt and shove him in the direction that Hero indicates.

We stalk toward the back door, and I point at Voodoo to live out his life’s dream of kicking down the door. He smiles like a man as he steps back and tries a high kick to the door. The rotted wood of the door shatters with the impact and busts open.

“Chuck Norris ain’t got shit on me,” celebrates Voodoo before I shove him out of the way and head straight into the building with my gun drawn.

The light in the room is muted by the layers of dust that have gathered on the walls. Broken furniture litters the room with piles of trash surrounding it. The wallpaper is peeling away and confirms that this house hasn’t been occupied in quite a while. My eyes scan the room once more, watching for movement before I head to the next room. Three rooms later, Hero meets up with me before holstering his gun.

“Clear up front and upstairs, Prez.”

“Same for the back,” I reply as I holster my gun. “You see anything up there?”

“Nah, it’s the same as this room: trash and dirt.”

Wiping the layer of dust that has settled on my skin from the air away from my face, I let out a frustrated sigh. Why the fuck would Maj’s phone lead us here if there wasn’t anything to find? It doesn’t make any Goddamn sense.

Voodoo’s face pops into the back door and smiles. “This place is in need of a serious deep clean and re-model. You find anything?”

“Nah, there’s nothing here. Just a fucking dead end and dust mites,” Hero clamors.

“Well, if you ladies are finished playing in the dirt, I found a door out here that you might want to see.”

Hero and I quickly look at each other before hurriedly following V out the door. He leads us to the northern side of the building and leans down to pull up the heavy metal door that has been partially covered up by dirt. He yanks the door, and it pops open with a cloud of dust migrating around it in the air. As the dust settles, a rickety set of stairs leads downward into a darkened hole.

“Shall we draw straws to see who gets to go down there?” Voodoo asks.

I retrieve my gun and push Voodoo out of the way. Hero pulls a flashlight from his pocket and tosses it into my hands. With a thankful nod, I click on the light and take the first step down. Each board creaks with my added weight, and I hope with each step that they don’t break. My feet finally hit the solid floor with an audible thud. I swing the flashlight around the room and something shiny reflects the light.

I shine the light on the walls as I search to find a light switch of some kind. I find the lights near the stairs and flick them on. The room illuminates as the breath is nearly sucked out of me. There are several tables covered in traces of white powder and silver scales.

Shit. This is a drug packaging room.

I run my finger along the top of the table and run the white powder between my fingers. Judging by the look and feel I am betting that this is fucking cocaine. Besides the drugs, the tables hold no more information, but my eyes catch the flicker of something behind the farthest table in the corner of the room. I stalk my way over to it and shove the table out of the way as a folded up piece of paper falls to the ground. Reaching down to retrieve it, I dust it off and unfold it. My eyes widen at what lies before me. It’s a fucking map of Mexico with intersecting lines drawn all over it. I stuff the map into my cut then move the table back to its original position and head back out of the basement room.

Voodoo and Hero are pacing near the door as I ascend the steps and slam the door back down.

“You find anything useful, Prez?” Hero inquires.

I drag out the map and toss it into Hero’s hands. His face flashes with surprise before he passes it off to V.

“We’ve found the golden ticket, boys. Let’s get this shit back home so V can work his magic and see where this leads us.”

Morning comes far too early when the rays of light set off a pounding explosion in my head. I groan and roll back over trying to force myself back to sleep through this hangover, but it doesn’t work. While I lie here and try to force my head to stop spinning, flickers of scenes from the night before run through my mind.

A sense of guilt and need to apologize for my drunken rant to Slider coils in my stomach as nausea hits me hard and fast. I bolt from the bed and realize I’m not in the room I’ve been staying in and end up spilling my guts in a discarded baseball cap I find on the floor. Wiping the vomit from my mouth, I take in the room around me noting how much bigger it is than the other room. There’s a lounge area with a couch and a television lining the wall opposite of the large king-size bed. My stomach falls as I see a photo of Raze and his kids sitting on the dresser next to me.

Shit, this is his room. How the fuck did I end up in here?

“Did you just hurl in my hat?” a gruff voice says from the direction of the couch as a large hand shoots up in a stretch.

Fuckity. Fuck. Fuck. Not only is this Raze’s room, but he just witnessed my puking pyrotechnics into his hat.

Raze lifts his body from the couch; his defined muscular back stretches and just watching those hardened muscles contract sends a heated vibration to my core. He stretches his arms out once more before turning and stalking his way toward me in just a pair of basketball shorts.