Addictive (Houston Defiance MC #2) - K.E. Osborn Page 0,61

hear us?” I ask.

“No, it’s just visual,” Neon relays.

“Good, ‘cause the kid rides like a fucking maniac,” I jest.

My brothers all laugh as he weaves in and out of traffic like a lunatic.

“Dickhead will get himself some road rash if he’s not careful.” Kevlar chuckles.

“You can be too trigger happy to impress the club when you’re a prospect. Let’s just hope he doesn’t fuck this shit up.”

We sit back as he rides closer to the location. He parks, then starts a stealthy walk. Clever. I was starting to question whether he had the sense to do that or not after watching his ride.

“He’s coming up on the trackers now,” Neon exclaims.

We all watch Blake’s footage intensely as he approaches. Neon flicks something on his laptop, and audio comes through. The rustling of Blake’s clothes makes up most of the sound, along with his heavy breathing. He needs to rein that shit in if he wants to be more covert.

Blake rounds a shipping container, sliding up against the side of a warehouse. The side door is open, and he steps over to it. Anxiety ripples through me as I don’t know who might be inside, but what I do know, is seeing who it is could possibly change the face of the Houston alliances for good.

Far-off voices echo, but I can’t make out what they’re saying. Blake slows his breathing as I hold mine. He slowly peers around the entry to the warehouse where the voices are coming from.

I count seven men, all unpacking boxes. My skin prickles, they’re wearing camo greens. Standing back directing the men is none other than the captain himself, Hawke Hernandez, leader of the Bayou Militia.

My lip curls. My fists ball at my sides. Everything in me wishes I were there right now, so I could race in and tear Hawke a new asshole for taking advantage of our agreement, of letting us believe we had an understanding.

This fucker thinks he can underhand us, he has another thing coming!

Hawke calls out to his Sergeant, Malik, to unload the next box. Malik lifts the box, then hands it off to two of his infantrymen. The picture goes blurry for a moment, and my muscles tense, a muffling noise echoes down the line, then the picture comes back into focus. Blake is aiming the camera for us, he’s angling it straight at the infantrymen with the box.

“In the box is the tracking signals. I think Blake reads that on his cell, too,” Neon clarifies.

The infantrymen pull out a brick of our product.

“Test it,” Hawke instructs.

The soldier slices open the packaging.

It’s hard to see from this distance and angle, but something falls onto the floor.

On Neon’s screen one of the trackers moves slightly.

“What the fuck is that?” Hawke blurts out loudly.

Suddenly, Blake turns and bolts.

Yeah, good idea kid.

Get the hell out of there.

Adrenaline surges through me as all our eyes stay transfixed to the screen in front of us.

Men rushing and car doors slamming behind him echo in the distance as Blake slides in behind some wooden crates, taking cover. He’s hiding. That little fucker better not get caught. It’s hard for us to see much as he crouches, trying to keep himself low, but with the audio, we can hear running footsteps and yelling men surrounding him.

I have no fucking clue what’s happening.

“If he gets found, they’ll think he’s involved with the trackers. That the club set them up. They’ll kill him,” I warn.

Texas rubs his chin. “Lucky the kid doesn’t know enough about the Militia to understand that just yet.”

“Hey, you! What are you doing here?” Hawke calls out.

I clench my eyes shut and screw up my face. “Sorry, kid,” I murmur.

“I heard all the commotion, I thought something was going down,” an unknown voice calls back.

Someone who is definitely not Blake.

“Well, some shit’s going down all right. That product had a tracker in it. We need to get the fuck out of here. So turn your pasty white ass around and go do the job I told you to, soldier.”

“Yes, captain.”

More running footsteps, doors slamming, and car tires screeching pierce down the line.

Blake finally starts breathing normally again after a few minutes, then the video begins to move. He cautiously edges out from behind the crates making his way to the warehouse, which now appears empty, barring the boxes that were there.

The camera starts lifting, and Blake’s face comes into view. “They’re gone. If you want me to leave now and come back, don’t say anything.