Page 49 of Claymore
“We’re ready when you are,” I said.
He walked us through the design of the building, everything ol’ Agnes knew about it. He grabbed a pen from his pocket, scribbling little drawings under the address he received from her, planning out exactly how we were going to breach. It was clear now that Tank wasn’t gonna sit around anymore hoping that this little problem of ours just went away.
He wasn’t gonna stand by and watch his men suffer. That was a thing of the past, and now we welcomed the bloodshed with open arms if it meant getting rid of these motherfuckers for good.
Tank rode front while we sped down the long, wide roadways, our bike wheels kicking up dust as we whizzed by. Our engines whirring and popping drowned out the sound of car horns. City drivers hated bikers because while they waited in hour-long traffic to get to their destinations, we always found a way around it. The Mascid sun hid behind the thick, grey rain clouds and just as we neared the warehouse, it started to drizzle.
There was a big sign out front that readSal and Blaise Ltd.It was fading like it had seen better days, the once bright red paint turning a pale pink now. The gate was slightly bent like someone had rammed it hard and when we shut off our engines, just a few feet away, there was absolute silence.
I turned to Tank who’d been studying the property, taking in the barbed wire fences and how someone took a lot of time trying to protect what was supposed to be a tobacco company.
“How’d you even know to ask Agnes about all of this? What tipped you off?”
“I was checking out one of our warehouses a few days ago and I could’ve sworn I saw someone taking a look around. By the time I got anywhere near him, he disappeared. He was on foot. Past few nights, no one showed up, no fights, no missing shipments. It got me thinking.”
“Thinking that someone could be hitting up Agnes’s other properties? Maybe looking for an empty one?”
“Exactly. Seems like my hunch was right. People need to stop underestimating that woman,” said Tank.
He reached for his gun in its holster, cocking it back.
“You all remember the plan?”
“Take out any Lions and grab one that looks like he knows his shit. That’s the only way we find Ray,” Archer confirmed.
Tank and Ranger went left. Archer and I headed right, toward the large metal doors that were calling our names. I held my gun close, pressing my ear up against the window, listening for any commotion inside.
Archer and I took our positions. He gave me a single nod, and I kicked the door in just as gunfire started to erupt. I moved in first, keeping my head low so I could take cover behind the large metal shelves with thick wooden crates. Archer stayed behind, popping out from the doorframe to down the two men who were shooting right at him.
“We’ve got five!” I yelled.
I shot one in the arm, hearing him groan as the gun flew right out of his fingers, clamoring against the concrete floor. My heart raced, the adrenaline pumping in my veins, and I heard Tank’s voice from the other end of the room.
“Claymore. Down!”
A gunshot flew right through the crate near my head, nearly clipping the side of my cheek. I heard footsteps approaching from behind as one of the Lions came barreling toward me, but I pummeled him to the ground. I beat the shit out of him, watching blood spew from his lips, and I kept him pinned while Archer took care of the last fucker standing that I could see.
“Fuck!” Wrench cried out.
I looked up to see him clutching his arm, blood oozing out, coating his fingers.
“Wrench. I got it. Down. Get down!”
That Lion came out of nowhere, rushing toward him, and Tank shot the fucker right between the eyes. I looked down at the Lion I had pinned, realizing he was out cold now after a damn good beating. My eyes averted to the other end of the warehouse, looking for a door.
“Wrench? Where the fuck did that guy come from?” I asked.
“There. Fuck! Go, go.”
I sped over to the emergency exit door, spotting a pair of heeled boots and long black hair escaping behind it.You’re not fucking getting away from me.
My legs trampled down the staircase, but before I could bust out the ground floor exit, I felt the barrel of a gun clip the back of my head.
I stumbled, nearly falling down the stairs before I caught myself.
“Nice to see you again, Claymore.”
“Fang.”
