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“Okay, enough about the package. They’re coming after me because I was the one that made the threat at the funeral, which at least means we know who they’re going to keep coming for. My question is, what are we going to do next? We obviously have a rat. There’s no other explanation for how anyone knows Everett’s nickname for me, or how they knew to clear out the warehouse. So who knew we were going to do this tonight?” I ask.
“Everyone in our ranks,” Rayne replies. “We wanted everyone on high alert for such a big operation. We needed to make sure if there was a possibility we were all taken out, that we weren’t leaving any businesses or our people as sitting ducks.”
I sigh. “Okay, new question. Everett, can you have a look at cameras in the area, maybe the highways that lead to and from the warehouse to see if we can figure out when they moved it?”
Everett finally joins the rest of us around the desk, picking up the monitors Storm threw across the room and by some miracle they turn on. When he notices my surprise, he smirks and a short, dark chuckle fills the room. “After the fourth set I had to replace I built heavy duty monitors so they could withstand Storm’s tantrums.”
I shake my head and lean back in my chair, something tells me it’s going to be a long fucking night and there’s entirely too much testosterone in this room for my liking.
44
Everett
The way Wynter takes charge of the situation has my dick so hard I’m surprised no one has noticed the tent in my pants. She’s been barking orders at each of us for hours as she uses her own laptop to watch security footage at Frost Industries around the time of the breach.
Storm is on the phone doing damage control from the mission, calling families to let them know their husbands, sons and fathers aren’t coming home tonight. As much as I’m pissed as hell at him, I don’t envy him for having to do that job.
Tommy is on the phone on the other side of the room coordinating security teams to mitigate the risk of the rat being able to do anything without someone noticing. He’s switching up the usual pairs, trying to make it impossible for them to make moves against us without their new partner tipping us off, but even that could fail.
And Rayne is pawing through files on all of Russo’s men that we’re aware of. If we can’t find the rat through our own people’s background checks, maybe there’s something in theirs we can use to link. After all, it’s not impossible to have things removed from the record, but were they smart enough to remove the evidence on the other side?
I’ve watched so many hours of traffic camera footage that I’m ready to throw the monitors across the room the same way Storm had earlier. Watching shit like this is the most monotonous task I ever have to do, except when I used to watch Wynter for hours at a time. That I could do all day.
A truck catches my eye on the interstate on the way out of the city. There’s nothing about it that seems particularly suspicious. Apart from the four black SUVs surrounding it. One in front, one behind, and one on each side. I change views to the next camera, the truck still traveling the same route. “Where are you taking it?” I murmur to myself.
“Have you got something?” Wynter perks up, her eyes brightening for the first time in hours.
“I think so.” I switch to another camera at the next exit, and then the next, until finally they exit at a turn I had almost completely forgotten about, one I’ve driven so many times I almost can’t count, never willingly. “Fuck,” I groan.
“What?” Storm crosses behind the desk, looking at the screens until his eyes settle on what I’m looking at. “Is that…”
“Yep.”
“Can someone tell me what the fuck is going on?” Wynter demands.
“We know where he’s taken the stuff from the warehouse,” I tell her.
“And?”
“There’s this farm on the outskirts of the city, it was my father’s property, he left it to me in his will, but Angelo took it over because he was my custodian and I never wanted it anyway. It has… bad memories.”
The words don’t seem like enough to describe all the times I was forced to kill people there, for them to be fed to the pigs like some old mafia movie. It was part of our training to take their place when the time came. Elijah loved it. The blood. The hunt. The kill. He thrived on it. Hell, he still does. But killing for the sake of killing never sat well with me.
Wynter’s eyes track my movements, a hint of knowing behind the ice of her irises. There were days at a time when she wouldn’t hear from me when we were younger, and every time I came back I was more withdrawn. She was always the only person who could bring me back, who could distract me from the guilt. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve killed my fair share of men for Frost, but never for no reason, and never against my will.
“Is there enough space out there?” Rayne asks.
He and Storm know of the farm, I told them one night during a drunken bender when I left Wynter and we went to set the place on fire. Except, when we got there I couldn’t do it. Something about it felt meaningful to the man I had become, a man free of my family and their influence. Now I wish I watched the fucking place go up in flames.
“We haven’t been up there in a few years to scope the place out. There’s more than enough space, but only a few small buildings,” I say, quickly bringing up a satellite feed.
If they had the foresight to build on the land, that could mean they’ve had this plan in motion for years, which means we are more than a little behind the eight ball. My eyes scan the screen as I locate the farm, and when I find what I’m looking for I can’t help the roar that climbs up my throat.
“Motherfuckers.”
“They’ve built on it?” Rayne asks.
Storm is over my shoulder looking at exactly what I am, and his own intake of breath tells me when she sees what I’m seeing. “Oh yeah. Looks like a goddamn army base. Security, bunkers, the whole nine yards.”
