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I twist the throttle.
I’ve come this fucking far. I’m not stopping now.
Cutting the engines a quarter of a mile away from the airfield, Jack’s tracker shows Legs is still inside. “We wait here,” I say to my men, grateful nobody came to collect him before we got here. I pull out my phone and call Captain, my blood boiling but my head kept in check. “Where we at?” I ask when he answers.
“They’re on to the next bid.”
“Okay. Keep watch. Let me know once they’ve had the final one.”
He hangs up, and we wait, time seemingly taking forever to pass. But we’re here. Ready.
Captain messages forty minutes later to confirm the bidding has finished and that he’s left the clubhouse. We got lucky; no one arrived in the time we waited. It’s only as we approach the two-hour mark do we mount our bikes, making our way towards the hangar at the same time as a handful of Saviours arrive.
No one will suspect we were here camping out.
We pull up and dock our bikes, then we’re greeted by a man in a suit. “Travis,” he says, not bothering to shake his hand. My heart does a double beat when the hangar door is then slid open, six large crates lined up in a row, staring back at me.
Another vehicle arrives, the low whir of its engine purring behind us. I look at Travis as two men dressed in suits step out of the car. These must be the men here for Legs. One nods his head as he buttons up his suit jacket, walking past us.
Fucking scum.
They enter the building through a side door.
I watch Travis move with the others towards the crates. He gives me a knowing look, and I hang back signalling at Jack to follow me. We snake our way along the outside of the hangar, stopping at the other exit. We wait for five minutes before the door swings open.
The men in suits walk out with Legs under their arms.
The sight of him being carried like a fucking object sends fury to hit me like meeting a train head on. I clench my fists, grinding my teeth.
One man pulls out his phone, the light from the screen narrowing his vision.
I seize the opportunity and creep up behind him. Taking no chances, I pull back his head, swiping my knife across his Adams apple with precision.
He gargles, choking on his blood as he sinks, dropping Legs to the ground.
Before the other man can withdraw his weapon, Jack steps forwards, mirroring the murder, his furrowed eyes hitting mine as the man drops to the floor. I can tell he hasn’t done that before. But the expression on his face is hollowed. Unfazed by what he’s just done.
We share a moment, then the corner of his mouth lifts.
I raise a brow pulling out my phone. I call Travis. He doesn’t answer, but the crack of a gun firing suggests he got the message. “Take him to your truck!” I urge Jack, watching as he dips and lifts Legs over his shoulder effortlessly.
I pull out my weapon, opening the door, and make my way inside. I move through the hangar, treading lightly, finding it empty apart from the makeshift rooms. Flicking back one of the curtains, I find where they filmed the bidding. I pull out my knife and cut the wires attached to the camera on a stand.
Most men in here presumably moved towards the crates once the gunfire started. It’s empty, no signs of life as I continue to work my way through, finding only mattresses on the floor, clothes and empty food packets. These people really haven’t been here long, but clearly long enough to leave a dank smell in the air.
There’s a distant yell to my left, and I swing my head, my blood pressure spiking. More gunfire.Shit. Then it’s quiet.
“Dean?” a voice then shouts.
I let out a breath and move my feet, running towards the crates. Three of them are loaded on the lorry. All of Costa’s men are dead, their bodies sprawled across the floor. Mangled. “Everyone whole?” I call.
Travis rubs at his chest. “We’re whole.” He turns to Beats. “Get them out of there. You two,” he points at Len and The Joker, “you work on those.”
Beats and Riggs move quickly, stepping onto the lorry, lifting the lids off the crates.
Len and The Joker do the same with the three still yet to bemoved.
“There’s a couple of mattresses back there, get them first,” I instruct, prompting them to move.
