Chapter 23
twenty-three
ISABELLE
The cold metal of the shipping container under my stomach made me shiver in the damp evening air.
The metal was rough where the paint had peeled away, but I didn’t dare move and possibly give myself away.
I could see almost everything. I couldn’t help but fixate on Cole’s broad shoulders and his chiseled profile.
Gage and Maddox stood stock-still behind him, like they were his own private security, as well as a couple of other guys I didn’t know.
I watched as a man in a slick suit got out of one of the SUVs, the dull glow of the bike’s headlights illuminating him as he and his cronies walked over to Cole.
I could hear every word that came out of their mouths.
Every single incriminating word. I slowly moved my hand to my back pocket, sliding my phone out.
My hands were shaking and slightly sweaty.
I held my phone tight, terrified to let it clatter onto the container below me.
I pulled it to my chest and used my arms to block the illuminated screen as I entered my password with trembling hands.
If this meeting was going to go sideways, shouldn’t I call the cops?
“The only thing I care about is the steel showing up where it's supposed to when it’s supposed to.” I heard Cole’s voice loud and clear.
“The steel will be here. Don’t you worry,” a sharp voice replied. The suit guy.
Guns. They had to be talking about guns.
I had stumbled right into an illegal gun trade meeting.
This should have been thrilling for me to witness.
It was all the proof I could ever hope for, wrapped in a pretty little bow.
My story was unfolding right in front of me.
But none of that mattered anymore. All I could think about was that Cole might get hurt, or Finn.
This was Rosie’s worst nightmare, happening right in front of my eyes, and I was powerless to stop it.
If I called the cops, wouldn’t the Hounds be in trouble too?
Then I glanced at the corner of my screen.
The little battery icon mocked me as it turned from yellow to red. Ten percent battery life left. My stomach dropped. What if it died before I could call the cops? Should I call them? The agonizing indecision twisted in my chest as I watched the scene.
Then the sound of a semitruck cut through the quiet of the night.
I lifted my head to watch, and my mouth went dry as I watched the semi pull into the lot. Just how many guns could they fit in there?
The back doors groaned as two of the men pulled them open, exposing the trailer filled with unmarked crates. Cole stood still, his expression unreadable in the dim light, but his posture seemed tense.
Rows and rows of crates.
I couldn’t breathe as I mentally tried to count how many. This was a huge operation. Massive.
Gage and Maddox pulled themselves into the back of the truck and removed a wooden crate toward the back of the semi’s trailer.
I watched as they pulled gun after gun out of the crate. Maddox passed a long black rifle to Cole, who twisted it in the SUV’s headlights, carefully inspecting it. Another of the Hounds hopped into the back of the truck and started counting the crates.
Cole started shaking his head as he spun the rifle in his hands.
He racked the cocking handle back and checked the chamber.
He let it snap forward with a metallic bite that made me jump.
I watched closely as he ran his thumb along the magazine release and slid the magazine free.
I could feel that something wasn’t right.
“Hey, boss, this isn’t adding up,” the Hound taking inventory said.
Cole nodded to Maddox, who jumped back into the truck with the other man and started opening crates.
Cole turned back to the seller. “Cheap,” he said flatly, tossing the rifle back into the crate with an unceremonious clatter.
The seller shrugged. “It's quality enough for what you need.”
“No,” Cole snapped, taking a threatening step toward the man. “We don’t take shit steel. That wasn’t the deal. We paid for the top shelf, and we always get what we pay for.”
Gage jumped down from the truck and stepped in closer to Cole, backing him up. “Are you shorting us and trying to saddle us with your knockoff crap? Do you think we’re fucking blind?”
“The guns will get the job done. They all fire. That’s all that matters to the likes of you anyway.”
“The likes of me?” Cole snapped, stepping closer to the man so they were only inches apart. Cole towered over him.
“What matters is that when one of my men pulls a trigger, the gun doesn’t jam. Doesn’t misfire. Doesn’t get someone killed. The likes of us don’t have a death wish. But it seems you might.”
The man took a step back, and even I knew that would be seen as a sign of weakness.
Maddox appeared from the depths of the truck. “It’s all short. I figure it’s about half of the actual order.”
The seller spread out his hands. “One of the trucks got rerouted, is all. You will get your full shipment. It’s just a little delayed. Half now and half is coming. That’s just how it goes sometimes.”
“Not with me,” Cole growled, so low I could barely make out his words.
The air had shifted, and tension radiated off the men below me in waves.
“I knew this was fucked,” Finn said, stepping forward toward Cole.
Cole’s head snapped toward him like a whip. “Shut your damn mouth, Finn. You’re not here to think. You are here to do what you are told.”
I watched as Finn’s shoulders slumped and he dropped his gaze down to his boots. He took a few steps back from the group, clearly put in his place. That had to hurt Cole, considering how much he cared for the kid, but this wasn’t really the kind of situation where he could gently parent him.
Maddox’s hand rested on his hip, where I figured he had his gun concealed. Gage followed Maddox’s lead, his fingers twitching for his weapon. The sellers’ cronies parted their jackets just enough to flash black handguns waiting at each of their hips. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move.
“You boys need to relax,” the seller said. “You will get the rest, just as promised. For now, you have more than enough product to move. You can’t tell me you can really handle this much stock at one time.”
“You don’t know what we can handle,” Gage barked. “You’ve given us just enough product to piss us off, and you don’t want to find out what happens to people who cross the Hounds.”
“Careful now,” the seller said patronizingly. “That sounded dangerously close to a threat. You don’t want to threaten—”
A single shot sounded, sudden and shocking.
One of the ringleader’s men looked down so slowly it was almost comical, staring at his chest. Then he slumped to his knees.
What the hell? Cole turned to look at his men, trying to see who had taken the shot.
Not a single Hound had their gun out, and yet the shot had come from their side.
That was when all hell broke loose.
Another of the ringleader’s cronies immediately reached for his gun, his hand going to the weapon at his side. But Gage was faster.
The guy fell to the ground.
It felt like the whole world exploded.
Gunfire cracked below me like thunder, echoing off the shipping containers and the brick walls of the abandoned warehouse.
Flashes of light filled the lot in bursts of orange and white.
The smell of gunpowder accosted my nostrils, the odor suffocating.
Grunts of pain and yells of anger filled the short seconds of silence between gunshots.
I cradled my head in my arms and pushed them tightly against my ears, desperately trying to block out the noise. But it didn’t help. The sound drilled through my small bit of safety, rattling in my bones. I stayed that way for a few minutes until I couldn’t bear not knowing what was happening.
Slowly I lifted my head, just enough to see what was going on below.
Cole moved like a killing machine. Every movement was precise and brutal.
His shots rang out in measured succession.
His stance was visibly unshaken, despite the bullets that chewed up the dirt around his feet.
I had to pull my eyes away from him to see what had become of the others.
Gage and Maddox worked as Cole’s backup. Gage roared, completely wild as his weapon spat fire. Maddox was more controlled but no less deadly. He worked with a cold efficiency, firing, reloading, and firing again and again.
Finn.
My stomach sank at the reminder that Finn was here. Just a kid. Way too young to be involved in a shoot-out. A shoot-out similar to the one that took his dad.
He was the weak link. He was still standing, but I could see the blatant panic on his face. He’d picked up a gun from an injured Hound at his feet, and was shooting widely, not aiming at anything, his body flinching each time he pulled the trigger.
I pressed myself closer to the container, desperate to remain unseen and unharmed. My eyes watered, possibly from the acrid gun smoke but more likely from the scene I was witnessing. I was too late; I’d waited too long. Now, there was only one thing I could think to do.
My fingers were shaking as I called 911, hoping that my battery would last long enough for the call to go through.
I whispered our location over the tense silence that had fallen now that the remaining men were at an impasse, and could barely make out whether the dispatcher heard me before my phone died.
I pulled myself to the edge and looked down, terrified to see if Cole had been hit.
Everyone had taken up cover. Cole, Maddox, and Gage were concealed behind an overturned container.
Cole kept glancing over to Finn, trapped on the opposite side from them.
Finn’s cover was flimsy; he was only seconds away from being noticed.
He was closest to me, the container he was hiding behind only a few yards from where I was.
Cole started to move behind the container that was shielding him, Gage, and Maddox. He was looking at Finn. He was going to get himself killed worrying about him. He looked about to brave the run across no-man’s-land to reach him.
Without a second thought, I pushed my body backward, my stomach scraping against the chipping paint and the rough metal surface.
I dangled my legs over the edge, feeling a small sense of relief when my foot found the top rung of the makeshift ladder on the side.
As soon as my feet hit the ground I would run.
I couldn’t do much, but maybe I could get Finn away.
He was at the periphery anyway. We could sneak into the shadows along the side of the container.
Tears stung the corners of my eyes and my heart hammered in my chest as I took each step down.
A scream escaped my lips as I felt a large hand grasp the back of my jacket, yanking me from the side of the container.
“Got you, bitch. Did Cole really think we wouldn’t find his little spy?”
The voice belonging to the man was guttural and rough. My fingers fumbled with the zipper of my jacket. Maybe I could slip out of it and outrun him.
“Oh no, you don’t,” the man said, grasping the hair at the nape of my neck with calloused fingers. I felt him press a gun to my back, the barrel pushing hard against my spine. My boots slipped on the gravel as he pushed me toward the center of the stand-off.
He hauled me out into the open.
“Look what I found!” he shouted. Suit guy joined them, grabbing me close.
The silence became even more tense. The man in the suit wrapped his arm around me and shoved the gun against my temple, shoving the guy who’d found me away. My breath caught in my lungs, and tears silently streamed down my face.
“Axel!” Cole’s voice rang out. He stood cautiously, with his gun trained on the man holding me. “Let’s think this through.”
“I thought that might get your attention,” Axel said, holding the gun steady with a nasty bark of laughter.
My legs gave out under me, but he held me up like a rag doll. My pulse was a roar in my ears. He pressed the gun harder into me when I moved, the cold metal of the barrel scraping against my skin.
Cole’s eyes held mine. There was a look in them I’d never seen before. Was that a hint of fear? It was the very first crack I’d seen in the armor he donned around his men.
“I found your rat, Cole. Were you planning to fuck this up from the start?” Axel sneered.
His hot breath puffed against my neck as he spoke, and I shivered in revulsion.
This was it. This was the end.