Page 73 of Hawk's Cry

“How many houses?”

I haven’t really stopped to count. “Eleven, twelve?”

“We split up,” he decides. “Eli, you’re with me. Heath too. We’ll take Wizard’s.”

To pre-empt his question, I point it out. I notice all lights are off, the illusion being everyone is in bed asleep. As they would be at three a.m.

“Open it.” He nods at the lock.

I left the compound with my bunch of keys, which includes one to the back gate which is lucky as it’s locked. Wizard must have realised it shouldn’t have looked easy. Fuck knows why the key wasn’t taken off me, but Archangel’s pleased when I explain that our entrance will be easy. As far as I can tell, he’s not suspicious. The apparent lack of security seems to have given him a sense of superiority. Men as lax as these will be easy to take.

Once inside, Archangel doesn’t waste time, giving the signal for everyone to split up and move, his non-verbal signals giving instruction as to which group goes where.

This far up the compound, far away from the well-guarded gate and Mouse’s security system, no one bothers to lock their front doors. Except, I’d expected and hoped for the extra precaution tonight—a lock shot off, a door kicked in which would alert everyone something was up. But Wizard’s front door opens easily, and Archangel pushes me inside, with his gun to the small of my back. Another sign he still doesn’t quite trust me.

I can’t do much else but obey the finger to his lips signal and keep quiet as we move through the house. I’m tense, expecting Wizard to jump out at any moment, and hoping he recognises me before he shoots.

But nothing moves.

“Master bed?” Archangel whispers directly into my ear.

After I point it out, a prod with the gun gets me moving that way.

Yeah, sure. This is a good idea. Walking unannounced into the bedroom of a prez of an outlaw MC in the dead of night. What’s his first reaction going to be? Yeah, right. Shoot the intruder first then ask questions later. Archangel isn’t stupid, he’s using me as a human shield.

Archangel moves to one side, then flips on the light. Wizard sits up fast, his hand reaching for his gun.

“I wouldn’t,” Archangel says, showing his got a line straight to Wizard’s head.

I inch back. I know this place as well as my own. All of us keep spare weapons ready and handy, and I happen to know Wiz has a spare gun taped behind his door. He’ll probably have to rearrange shit when his kid’s born, but for now… I reach behind me breathing a silent sigh of relief as I find it exactly where I expect to.

The quiet thump of a man dropping to the floor behind me isn’t unanticipated. It coincides with Wizard barking out, “What the fuck are you doing in my house?”

Archangel didn’t hear he’s a man down, instead he sneers at Wizard, “Where’s your pretty wife?”

“On night shift at the hospital.”

I feel easier now I have a gun in my hand. I don’t like anyone pointing a gun at my pr… Wizard for too long. Fingers can get twitchy on triggers. My eyes find Wizard’s and I blink twice.

“What the fuck you doing here, Eli?” Wizard gives himself an excuse to stare at me. “You turned traitor now?”

“Something like that,” I respond, giving myself the excuse to come alongside Archangel.

Then, fast as a flash, I whip my hand around his wrist, twisting and turning so his gun drops out of his hand.

“Nice work,” Marvel says admiringly from behind me.

Wizard stands, already dressed in the jeans and boots he’d been wearing under the covers. “Tie him up,” he instructs as he pulls on a t-shirt and his cut. He pauses and cocks his head at the sound of distant gunfire. That will be Archangel’s distraction at the gate.

“That’s my men,” Archangel says, now from a prone position on the floor. It’s hard to stand up when you’re hog-tied. “You’re surrounded.”

Wizard shakes his head. “I think you’ll find it’s us who’ve got the upper hand.” He tilts his head to one side. “Good job, Marv,” he says. “And while I admire your handiwork with knots, I’d kinda like him to be able to walk.”

With an exaggerated sigh, Marvel reties the knots and pulls the man now with just his hands bound behind him to his feet.

“One wrong move, shoot him,” Wizard states, then steps over the man still lying across the threshold of the room. He shakes his head as he sees all the blood from the cutthroat soaking into the wooden floor. “Amy’s going to have my fuckin’ nuts,” he complains.

“You’re dead,” Archangel tells me, his tone cold. “And so is your wife.”

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