32. Deacon
DEACON
Someone local. The two words that kept rushing around in my head.
As I stood in the backroom with broken and busted cardboard boxes littering the ground at my feet, I stared out at the gaping expanse that had been left behind by the now nonexistent stage.
There was so much space that it freed up.
We could insert a dance floor as well as a bit more seating.
We even had enough space to create a little V.I.P. area without infiltrating upstairs.
Search the place.
The second the thought entered my mind, I got to work. If someone was local enough to change the batteries out of those motherfuckers, then we were being watched. And if we had been watched for weeks now, then we had to assume that cameras were everywhere.
So, I slid my hand along the wall until I felt the light switch to the backroom slam into my finger.
“Gotcha,” I murmured as I flipped on the light.
I charged through the room, kicking around boxes and tossing them against the ceiling to see if I could dislodge anything.
I tore to the back of the bar, moving the liquor bottles and searching all around them for any signs of those little black cameras.
The bar itself didn’t have a security system, so it wasn’t like there was anything to tap into there.
That didn’t stop me from searching every nook and cranny in that fucking place, though.
“Uh, Deac?”
“What?” I asked as I dipped underneath a booth.
“You lose a contact lens or something?”
I grunted as I worked my way out from beneath the table. “I don’t wear them.”
“Then, you lose an earring?”
I slowly looked up at him. “I’m searching for more cameras, asshole. Care to help?”
He crooked an eyebrow. “You think they’ve gotten into our businesses?”
I stood and dusted off my jeans. “Contact the guys. I want us all evenly split between here, the shop, and Lone Star. We search everything to make sure those fuckers aren’t inside, too.”
Rat nodded as he pulled out his cell. “On it.”
I pointed to his phone. “And after you’re done with that, discard it. We switch to burners now.”
He looked at me warily. “You really think we’re in trouble.”
I sighed heavily. “Yeah, I really think we are.”
And yet, even as Rat backtracked to inform the crew of what was happening and what needed to take place, I found nothing.
There were no cameras. No mirrors. No bugs.
No trap doors or little trip wires. Nothing that would give the impression that someone had come in and bugged our places of work.
There wasn’t even a stable goddamn internet connection in half of these places, much less our businesses!
It didn’t make any fucking sense.
“Jesus Christ,” I said breathlessly as I dropped down into a chair.
Dallas slipped into the booth in front of me. “Shop’s clear.”
Gauge wasn’t too far behind him, and he pulled up a chair to the edge of the booth. “Lone Star is good.”
I slid my hands down my face. “It doesn’t make any fucking sense.”
“Have you heard from Plug at all?” Dallas asked. “Rat told me that Plug called and said he wouldn’t be joining in the searches because he was still at it with those cameras.”
I nodded slowly. “As he should.”
“Here you go,” Char said as she approached us.
She set our regular drink orders in front of us before she tucked that tray beneath her arm.
“On the house.”
“Thanks,” all three of us said together.
“If you need anything else, just let me know. Otherwise, DeShawn’s about to strike up the kitchen,” she said.
I peered over her shoulder at the clock on the wall. “He was supposed to be in an hour ago.”
“He contacted me, he’s fine,” Dallas said.
I shot him a look. “Everything good?”
“He’s the sole caretaker of his mom. She had a pretty rough episode this morning. He’s just getting her situated,” Char said.
I picked up my drink. “Fair enough.”
With a nod of her head, her blonde hair bobbed as she turned on her feet and walked away. Her thick ass wiggled for my viewing pleasure, and I watched her go longer than I should have. On time for work. Bringing us our required drinks. Covering for her chef without being asked.
On the house.
I didn’t know why those three words stuck the way they did.
We were her bosses. She owed us drinks, not the other way around.
And yet there was something so effortlessly decent about the way she’d done it.
No performance, no angle, no pointed look to make sure I noticed.
She just set the bottles down and offered up what little she had without making it a thing.
My jaw tightened.
I didn’t like that. Didn’t like how easily she made it look. Like giving a shit about people came as natural to her as breathing, and the rest of us were just slow to learn the language. I filed it away under things I had no business thinking about and picked up my drink.
She was an employee. A complication. Nothing else.
I’d reward her even more if she kept up the good work.
But, the vibrating of my cell in my pocket ripped my stare from her malleable body.
“Who’s that?” Gauge asked with a nod of his head.
I abandoned my drink as I pulled my phone out. “It’s Plug. He’s texted.”
All eyes were on me as I swiped my finger over the screen and opened the message.
Plug: How’s the internet connections? Did you guys test them while you were searching?
“What’d he ask?” Dallas asked.
I furrowed my brow. “He wants to know how the internet connections are at the businesses.”
Gauge scoffed. “Yeah, you’re lucky if you pick one up at the shop.”
Dallas shrugged. “Lone Star isn’t that bad, but with so many people that use it at once, it’s sluggish, at best.”
I nodded as I formulated a response back.
Me: Pathetic, like always. Why?
I stared at my phone and waited anxiously for him to respond. And luckily, I didn’t have to wait very long.
Plug: That’s what I figured. The internet connections in our businesses aren’t stable enough.
Me: So, what are you thinking?
Plug: I’m thinking I need to go around and check them anyway.
Me: Fine by me. Let me know what you find.
Plug: Will do, boss.
Me: And when you’re done, destroy your phone.
Plug: Yep, Rat mass-texted. We’re all in the process of turning things over now.
Me: Good. Make sure to keep it routine until we’ve got more answers. Don’t hang onto your new phone for more than a day.
Plug: On it.
“What’s he saying?” Gauge asked.
I shook my head as I tucked my phone away. I had to get it changed before the night was out. “I don’t know, I think he’s just at the beginning stages of his digging. Probably still trying to figure out how in the hell those cameras are uploading things without stable internet connections.”
Dallas tipped his drink back. “Makes sense.”
I was glad that Plug wanted to check things, because we had gotten too comfortable. We had run around this town without a threat for years, and this was our price for getting lazy as fuck.
“What now?” Gauge murmured as he ripped his phone out of his pocket.
But, when he answered it, his face contorted.
“Guys?” he asked as he put the call on speakerphone.
“Fucking hell!” Rat exclaimed.
I furrowed my brow as I stood. “Rat, you there?”
“Fucking—Chri—no. Don’t do that. No. Hey. No! Stop! Cut it out!”
“Rat!” Dallas exclaimed.
“Guys!?” Char called out from the bar. “You okay!?”
“Rat! Where are you!?” I yelled into the phone.
Rat grunted and groaned. He growled through the phone as thuds and crashes echoed through the receiver of Gauge’s cell.
“Son of a fucking—where is that battery acid?” Rat hissed.
“The shop,” Dallas said as he abandoned his drink. “Rat’s at the shop.”
“Deac?” Char asked as she approached us.
I moved away from the booth. “Keep the doors open. We’ll be back.”
Worry pooled in her features. “What’s wrong? Why are you guys yelling?”
I brushed past her. “Just do it, Char!”
“Okay, okay! Damn. I got it!”
“Guys, with me,” I demanded.
Rat was being attacked.
“I just got off the phone with Plug,” Dallas said as he followed me out to our bikes. “He says that Rat took Baitfish with him.”
Gauge jogged up to me with his phone still on speaker. “So, where the fuck is Baitfish?”
“Baitfish! No! Don’t do that!” Rat exclaimed.
“Well, we got our answer at least,” I said as I mounted my bike.
“I’ve notified the guys that it’s all hands on deck at the shop,” Dallas said before he cranked his engine.
I heard bikes sputtering and roaring in the distance before I struck up my own engine. I didn’t care. I mean, I did, but I didn’t. All I gave a shit about was getting my men out of there alive.
How the fuck had things gone so badly so quickly?
I pushed off and hopped the curb to get to the road quicker.
A quick right pointed me in the direction of our first business we ever built from the ground up, our mechanic shop.
With my men behind me and the rest of my men zooming toward us from a distance, I hoped that whatever threat was at the shop wasn’t just a distraction for something bigger.
“Look out!” Dallas roared.
Even through the angry revving of our engines, I heard him cry out before a black van zoomed out into the road.
Less than a mile from the shop, and I found it charging at me.
Full fucking speed. It shimmered in the sunlight, as if it had been pristinely washed only moments before.
And as I swerved out of the way, I watched with wide eyes as it followed me.
“Deac! Get off your fucking bike!” Gauge barked.
I barely got into a fucking alleyway before the van zoomed past. It slammed into the corner of the local laundromat and barely missed a goddamn fire hydrant.
I cursed beneath my breath as I whipped around, squinting so that I could see through the dust that kicked up with the van’s tires.
I heard my men’s engines coming closer. The mechanic shop was just behind us.
And as I sat there, watching the van move away from me, I had to make a choice.
A split second choice.
And I chose to pull that little fucking gun Dallas had gotten me for my birthday last year off my ankle.
“Let’s see how you do with flat tires,” I growled.
I took aim with a pistol that hardly pointed beyond my fucking hand.
The damned thing itself could have fit into my palm, so I had to scoot it up to the tips of my fingers.
I drew in a deep breath as Dallas and Gauge continued on toward the mechanic shop.
I steadied my breath and listened to the sound of my heart as it raced in my ears.
And when my hand steadied itself, I aimed for those van’s tires.
“You won’t get away with this,” I promised to no one in particular.
With the confidence of God Himself, I plugged two bullets into the back tires of that van.
Two pieces of fiery lead, aimed right at those things.
I knew I hit them, square on. If there was one thing that I was confident about, it was my distance shooting.
But, the van didn’t stop. It didn’t even slow the fuck down.
So, I tested a theory and unloaded the rest of the chamber into the back window.
Only to watch them bounce off like gnats on plant leaf.
Whoever we were dealing with, they were serious.
And it forced me to turn my bike around and beeline for the shop.
Jesus Christ, Rat, please still be alive.