I’m crouched behind a rusted blue shipping container, a bullet-proof vest strapped tight to my torso and black Ray-Bans in place to cover my eyes from the early morning glare. The sun is beginning its ascent and casts a warm orange and pink glow across the horizon. I notice none of it as I scan the building layout in my hand one last time, mentally checking off each team’s position as they report in.
Once done, I fold the sheet of paper and tuck it into the back pocket of my jeans. Nerves stretched taut with tension, I raise the radio to my lips, ready to give the go head when the growl of an engine rips through the eerie stillness. I cock my ears. The noise isn’t that of passing traffic. Instead, it’s getting closer until the thunderous roar is all I can hear.
“Goddammit,” I bark tersely and get on the radio. “Hold position.”
This sting is the biggest operation Sydney City Police have undertaken in years and one fool’s inattention at the Dockside gates has the potential to bring the whole thing crashing down around our ears. I’ll have their badge for this.
Leading this operation is a huge break for me. Teams from both the homicide and narcotics division have joined forces to put these criminals out of action for good, and I’m the one in charge. After almost two years of covert intelligence and undercover work to build evidence on every known member, this will be the biggest notch on my belt as detective for the Sydney LLC.
Fury grinds my jaw as I palm my gun and shift to the corner of the shipping container. I peer around the side and every drop of blood in my body turns to ice.
Dust kicks up as the Dodge Charger slides to a halt at the warehouse entrance, my goddamn little sister at the wheel. She looks like Fright Night dressed all in black with dark liner smeared beneath her eyes.
“Mitch,” comes the voice of Tate Donavon from behind me. Tate is my partner, has been since the beginning, but I’ve got lead on this operation and despite him doing his best to keep his resentment under wraps, it emanates from his skin with tense body language and terse words. “I’ve got Kelly Daniels on the line.”
I speak without taking my eyes from Mackenzie ‘Death Wish’ Valentine. “I don’t have time for girly catch-ups right now.”
“He says it’s urgent. To do with Mac.”
I snatch my phone from his hand. “Speak.”
Kelly doesn’t waste time. “Mac is coming your way.”
How he knows Mac was headed this way, or that he even knows my current location, is beyond me right now, but there’s no time for questions. “No shit, Sherlock,” I snarl, my fingers tightening on the phone. “We’re at Dockside Wharf and I’m staring right at her, so your warning can go suck a bag of dicks.”
“Go get fucked, Valentine.”
“I don’t have time to trade petty insults. Casey was supposed to have her on lockdown at the party.”
“He did but Grace was sick so he uh …”
“He uh what?”
“He passed that particular duty to me before they went to bed so he could take care of his woman.”
Fuck. My. Life. “Really?” My voice is so snide my eyes water. “Then you’re fired.”
“That slippery bitch was hell-bent on chasing down Jake and tried to steal my fuckin’ Harley,” Kelly cries into the phone as if his whole world had almost ended. “And that’s not all of it. I have worse news and even shittier news,” he goes on to mutter unhappily.
“What?”
“She knows the King Street Boys have him. That’s why she’s there.”
My fist curls so tight around the phone I hear the device crack. “How does she know that?” I hiss, furious. We know they have him. He agreed to be bait in return for immunity against past crimes. We have the entire Dockside surrounded right this second, and my little sister is about to get caught in the crossfire.
This means Operation Strike is about to go down in a blaze of career-ending flames. “What’s the shittier news?” I dare to ask, wondering how it can possibly get worse than this.
“Luke and Jake were tight. Like brothers,” he says, imparting useless information that I already know. “Luke knows they have him because his older brother Leander knows. And you know what that means.”
It takes less than a second to connect the dots. “Bingo,” I mutter, referring to the leader of the Sentinels.
“Not just Bingo. The whole fuckin’ MC is coming. They’re armed and they’re fuckin’ riled.”
My eyes drift close for one single, heart-pounding moment. I’ve got the King Street Boys on one side, the Sentinels bearing down on the other, and half of the Sydney police force bunkered down in wait. War is coming and it’s going to be a bloody shit show.
My eyes fly open, lighting on Mac as she pushes open the driver’s side door of the beautiful Dodge Charger. “Tell the Sentinels to stand down!”
Kelly’s voice is grim. “It’s too late for that.”
There’s nothing left to say. I hang up the phone and tuck it in my back pocket.
“Valentine,” comes the voice of Tate from behind me again. I turn my head. He’s holding out his radio. My own has been buzzing while on the phone. “It’s Inspector Burns.”
Inspector Keith Burns. My boss.
“I don’t have time for another conversation. I need to get my sister out of there.”
“That’s the thing,” he butts in urgently. “You can’t.”
“What do you mean I can’t,” I bark, snatching the radio. I speak into it as Mac puts one booted foot on the ground. Then the other. She does it with purpose, her chest rising as she breathes in and stands. “Burns.”
“You need to let her go,” he orders me. “Snatching her out in the open will blow your cover and years’ worth of work.”
“Sir,” I hiss, my voice low, my rage unleashing as Mac steps forward and swings the car door closed behind her. How in the hell did she get her hands on Jake’s car? We knew the King Street Boys were following him. He was supposed to pull over, pocket the keys, and lift the hood as if suffering engine trouble. Intel told us they planned on snatching him last night, right before a huge shipment of drugs was due to arrive in the docks this morning. Our plan had been to give them the best opportunity possible to do so, helping us narrow down their exact location, and then lay in wait.
We have this operation fine-tuned to the minutest detail, including Plan B’s for every possible scenario. Except we aren’t prepared for Mackenzie Valentine and a goddamn war. “That is my little sister out there.”
“It’s too late, Mitch. You have to let her go. She can handle herself.”
“Sir—”
“Let. Her. Go.”
“I can’t let her walk in there!”
“Goddammit, Valentine!” he shouts, setting my eardrums ringing. “I’m not asking you. That’s a goddamn order, and if you defy me I’ll demote you to traffic duty for rest of your godforsaken career!”
I ignore his threat. My sister’s life is bigger than this. “The Sentinels are bearing down.”
“What the!” he shouts. “How far out are they?”
KELLY DANIELS