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“Fuck,” I cursed, placing Cassie onto the bed, her eyes wide as she watched me rush over and pull my club cut on over my hoodie. “Stay here.”
“But I—”
“Cassie, please, just stay in here,” I ordered, maybe a little harsh, but at the moment, I knew I needed to get downstairs to my family and see what the actual fuck was happening.
Thankfully she nodded. “Yeah, of course. Go.”
I rushed out, pulling the bedroom door closed behind me, heading toward the staircase. The sound of tires squealing on our usually quiet street had me taking two steps at a time to the main floor before another loud and metallic crash shook the clubhouse walls.
My brothers were already moving, but when the cops are breaking down our gates and not waiting for someone to fucking open them, you know shit’s about to get real bad. My brothers scattered. Some would be checking that weapons were hidden, others were getting rid of small stashes of weed because anything stronger wasn’t allowed to be used on clubhouse grounds.
My dad didn’t move though, standing stoic at the main roller doorway that opened to the front of the lot with his arms folded across his chest as an armored vehicle, a couple of SUVs, and some dark cars kicked up stones and skidded to a stop just feet from him.
“It’s fucking S.W.A.T.,” Dad announced through gritted teeth. “Everyone keep their fucking cool because I swear shit’s about to get real fucked up.”
The lot was now full with ten vehicles and three times as many men in police uniforms, bulletproof vests, and helmets. They moved toward the entrance while I made my way through the clubhouse to join my father, Ripley doing the same as he entered from out back.
The first man to get close enough was a plain-clothes detective holding a folded piece of paper, though he stopped just short of entering the building. “We’re looking for Drake Shaw.”
I walked faster, holding my hand in the air. “I’m Drake Shaw.” Suddenly, every gun in the vicinity pointed straight fucking at me, and I thrust my other hand into the air, not exactly feeling like getting fucking shot today. “Woah, fucking hell. Can you tell me what the hell is going on here?”
“Several government officials in the area, including the local courthouse, received death threats and bomb threats,” the detective explained, holding up the piece of paper as he shoved past my dad and made his way toward me, thrusting it straight into my fucking face. “Is that your signature on the bottom of this letter, Mr. Shaw?”
I narrowed my eyes, trying to make sense of what the fuck he was showing me. “I guess—”
“Get on the ground!”
“But I didn’t fuckin—”
“Take him out.” The order was sharp and to the point and barely allowed me time to breathe before several hands were on me, and I quickly found my feet swept out from under me, and my fucking chest intimately meeting the hard wooden floors.
The air was completely knocked from my lungs, and at the same time, I heard Cassie’s scared scream. “Let him go! He didn’t do anything.”
“Ma’am, I’m gonna need you to back aw—”
“Drake!” The scuffle had my entire body tensing, trying to glance over as a couple of men pressed their knees into my back, struggling to see if she was okay and catching a uniformed beat officer tossing her into the wall.
My dad was there in a second, grabbing hold of the fucker’s vest and jerking him back, sending him flying across the floor before three more officers body-slammed through my dad, forcing him to hit the floor hard.
Rage fueled me for a moment, and I managed to buck off one of the bastards holding me down, only to earn me five fucking heavy artillery guns in my damn face.
Probably all of them just wishing I’d fucking fight back.
“You’re here for me,” I spat, breathing hard. “So let’s fucking go, leave everyone else alone.”
The guy who’d shoved the letter in my face from before, crouched down in front of me as I was dragged to my knees. I didn’t know him, he wasn’t just a normal cop from this area, and the smug smirk on his face let me know he was using the raid to either make himself look good or because he wanted to be the face on the news when he got to tell the world this businessman and billionaire CEO was just another dirty fucking criminal. “I have a warrant to check this entire place for bomb-making materials,” the detective hissed in my face, flapping around a new piece of paper. “So that’s exactly what we’re going to do.” He held my gaze as he got to his feet, a smug smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.
“Tear this place apart,” he called while a cold, metal pair of handcuffs encased my wrists, pulling my shoulders back even fucking tighter.
Zoey and Blair were ushered in from outside, Blair with absolute venom shooting from her eyes as one of the officers gave her a light nudge. For a second, I thought she might swing at him. Thankfully, though, Zoey wrapped an arm around her and pulled her in close, whispering softly in her ear.
An officer shoved Cassie toward them. She didn’t look scared, but she kept glancing over at me as the three women were pushed toward a sofa in the corner of the room. For the next twenty fucking minutes, I watched while club members were dragged from outside, from their bedrooms, and from the backyard and forced to their knees in the center of the clubhouse beside me, and a flurry of armed officers swept through the clubhouse, making a damn mess as they searched for shit they were never going to find.
This was a setup—swatting, it’s called.
Where someone with a vendetta creates an emergency situation in the name of someone else.
I saw the form this bastard waved in my face.
