Page 123 of Jagger's Remorse
I pick up a photo—Scarlett and me outside the compound. Date stamp from yesterday. Whoever took this was close.
One of us, close.
"There's more," Mouse says, voice strange. He hands me another folder.
Financial records. Shipping manifests. Details about our arrangement with Eduardo. Things only officers would know.
My phone buzzes. Scarlett.
"Multiple vehicles approaching. Two minutes out. Fuck, Jagger, it's a lot of them."
"It's a setup," I realize. "They wanted us here. Move! Everyone out!"
We grab what we can—the product, the documents—and bail.
Poncho and Hammer load the drugs while Mouse and I stuff papers into bags.
There’s no time to be selective.
"Forty-five seconds," Scarlett warns.
We burst through the loading dock as headlights pierce the fog. Three vehicles. No, five. More engines roaring in the distance.
"Go, go, go!"
Engines roar to life as we tear out of the warehouse, Sombra vehicles screaming into the lot behind us.
Muzzle flashes light up the fog and bullets spark off concrete.
Mouse shouts, returning fire from his bike. "Contact at the rear!"
I lean hard into a turn, feel a round whistle past my ear. Too fucking close.
"Split up!" I order. "Rally at checkpoint two!"
We scatter into the industrial maze, using the fog and our knowledge of the area.
The Sombra fuckers might have numbers, but this is our territory.
Ten minutes of heart-pounding chase before we lose them.
Close. Too fucking close.
Back at the compound, adrenaline still pumping, I spread the documents across the table in church.
The other officers gather round, faces grim as they process what we're looking at.
We don't let anyone in who isn’t an officer, Scarlett, or Raven.
As mine and Squirrel’s ol’ ladies’ they have a fucking right to be here.
"Someone's been talking," I tell Squirrel. "Feeding information to both Sombra and Three Devils."
His voice is deadly quiet, the kind that precedes violence. "Who?"
"Working on it. But whoever it is, they knew about the party. Knew exactly when we'd be vulnerable."
"The prospects," Scarlett says from where she's examining photos. She shouldn't be standing, but try telling her that. "Rocket and Quill. They had to have help from inside."
