“Get it out of his pocket,” I said, then when Tank just stared at me stupidly, “Do it. I’m not going to fucking shoot him if he’s telling the truth." I was loyal to a fault, but Mad Dog had more and more faults lately.
Tank reached in Crunch’s pocket, still talking. “Why the fuck would Mad Dog want to get out from under Benicio and set us up with the Mexicans if he’s taking money from Benicio? It makes no fucking sense.” He pulled out the paper and handed it to me.
I looked at the numbers, feeling tightness in my chest as I tried to make sense of it. “Jesus Christ. Over eight hundred grand.”
“What?” Tank asked. “Let me see that. Fucking A. Where did Mad Dog get that kind of cash?”
"Where'd you get the statement?" I asked.
Crunch looked at me like I was an idiot. "I'm a hacker," he said. "I can get anything. It’s not me. It’s Mad Dog. He’s the one stealing from the club. All the evidence - I've got it. I just need internet access and I can show you.”
“Shit, man,” Tank said. “You feel right about this? Taking him out this way?”
“I -” I didn’t have time to answer, as the rumbling of motorcycles outside interrupted us. “What the hell is that?"
Then everything went crazy. Automatic gunfire erupted from somewhere out front, and I saw Tank go down, right before a flash-bang grenade came rolling inside.
“Jesus, get down!” I yelled, taking cover behind a large metal canister that began spewing out a fog of something when it took a hit. I couldn’t see shit through the haze, but I felt Crunch beside me. “Tank!” I screamed.
No response. I could barely make out his figure, lying motionless on the ground. I handed Crunch my second piece, as if our handguns were going to be any match against automatic weapons. There was another burst of gunfire, and then the unmistakable "whoompf" sound of a barrel of something igniting.
Crunch followed close to me as we ran for the nearest cover, a vehicle service pit in the floor. Tank’s body lay a few feet away, and I stopped, feeling for a pulse. Nothing. I bent down to drag him with us, but then I saw an explosion from the corner of my eye.
I left him behind.
All around us, the building crackled and burned, loud even over the din of the fire alarm.
“Fuck, man, we’re going to die in here,” Crunch said.
“Shut up. Get your bandanna around your face. The smoke is going to get you before anything else. We need to get to the back exit.”
“You mean, where whoever’s out there is waiting for us?”
“Better than being burned alive in here. But we need to go now.”
Then we climbed out of the pit and ran, chaos reigning down around us. Just like it had when I was in Ramadi. The adrenaline took over.
There was no way I’d survived Iraq just to die in a shithole warehouse.
When by some miracle we got out of the building, I yanked the handkerchief away from my mouth, sucking in deep breaths of air and choking on the smoke, my lungs aching. Crunch was doubled over, coughing. There was no sign of anyone back here, so whoever had been shooting at us sure weren’t professionals, or anyone with military experience. They fired on us, set the place ablaze, but didn’t bother to cover the back exit?
So they were novices or sloppy.
“Shit, man,” Crunch said, coughing. “We need to get out of here before the cops and the fire department show up.”
I nodded. We followed close to the side of the building, Crunch behind me, weapons drawn. I could feel the heat from the interior as the place burned, and silently prayed the whole place wouldn’t blow until after we got out of there. When I reached the front, I stood motionless, watching three guys ride off on bikes.
Three guys wearing Inferno Motorcycle Club patches.
“I fucking told you,” Crunch said.
I didn’t say anything until we were in the parking lot, away from the building. Then I screamed incoherently, the anger I felt toward the club coloring everything. “Fucking motherfucker shit!”
“We need to get out of here now,” Crunch said.
A few miles away, we stopped to call Crunch’s wife. I’d never seen Crunch so terrified as he was when he made the call to tell his wife to get out of town. I stood there while he gave her instructions, my mind turning over what had happened.
“Shit’s gone down,” he said. “Get the paperwork and your weapon from the safe, just like we planned. The bags are in the car, right? Good girl.” He paused. “Don’t take anything else. Leave the note on the kitchen counter. I’m staying with you until you’re on the road. Get out of town and call me. We’ll give you a place to meet us.” He hung out on the phone with her for a few minutes, then turned to me, exhaling loudly.
“She and MacKenzie are on their way.”
“They’re going to know something’s up when she and Mac are gone, Crunch,” I said. I was trying to work out what we were going to do next, but I was flying by the seat of my pants here.