Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 131888 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 528(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131888 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 528(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
Nox lifted his hand and made a show of studying his busted knuckles. “Worth it.” He took one last glance at the woman he hated to leave behind. “Call 911 if you need help.”
“Get the fuck out!” T-Bone screamed, then groaned in pain.
Nox’s head twitched but he slowly made his way back outside. As soon as he was clear of the doorway, the door slammed behind him. With a shake of his head, he went back to his truck, got in it and returned to his normal spot to monitor the situation.
They needed to do something about that motherfucker, and they needed to do it soon.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Nox turned slowly in a circle and took in the third floor of The Plant.
It was now almost empty. A couple of bare desks still remained. The whiteboard on the wall was now wiped clean. All the photos of the Demons had been removed from the cork board. Not one computer remained.
Only a dirty floor was left behind where the conference table and chairs were previously.
The task force had been dismantled piece by piece and some of the members had already returned to their regular assignments at whatever law enforcement agency they came from. The only members left were gathering at zero dark thirty to join in on today’s “fun.” Their last official assignment unless they were called to testify.
Though, Fletch and Wilder still remained undercover with the Demons as the task force’s eyes and ears until today’s early morning sweep was completed. While it was dangerous for them, in reality, serving warrants and taking unwilling bikers into custody would be risky for everyone. At least everyone about to see the results of all their time and hard work that they put into the investigation in the last almost two years.
It was a bit sad that Nox’s time with the task force was coming to an end, but he was glad that the Demons would finally get what they deserved.
Or he hoped they would.
What happened next would involve judges and juries, trials, prosecutors, criminal defense attorneys, plea deals, motions and eventually appeals.
Justice wasn’t simple or quick. Nor was it cheap.
Sometimes, it wasn’t even served.
Or fair.
His nostrils flared as he pulled in a long breath.
Everyone in group one who wanted to help serve warrants stood around sucking down coffee because it was still considered the middle of night.
The best time to hit the Demons was after the Peach Pit and Hawg Wild closed. When a weekend long party wasn’t being held at the Viper’s Den. When most of those motherfuckers would be asleep in their beds or passed out on a random floor or couch.
“Where the fuck is Crew?” Finn asked on a yawn. “If we don’t get this party started soon, I’m going to curl up on the cot and take a nap.”
Nox glanced at the time on his cell phone. They were supposed to meet on the third floor at three AM, then head out to meet the rest of the teams at four in some parking lot that only Crew knew the address to.
Secret squirrel shit and all of that.
The less details given out about the coordinated effort, the less chance for it to get leaked. Either on purpose or by accident.
As if Finn summoned Crew by saying his name, the task force leader came barreling through the door with Cabrera close on his heels, both wearing tactical gear like the rest of them. Only, the task force leader had his phone to his ear and wore an expression that made all of them on the third floor sit up and take notice.
Actually, everyone not only stopped slouching, they all shot to their feet.
“For fuck’s sake,” Crew muttered into his phone. “Okay. We’ll stand by until we get further word.”
Further word?
That didn’t sound like they were about to go bust in some doors.
Were they getting screwed out of the opportunity for some reason? Did Crew land on someone’s shit list?
Crew shook his head one last time before pulling the phone from his ear and stabbing the screen with his finger to end the call. “For fuck’s sake.”
“You said that already. Did you forget?” Cabrera razzed him. The woman had busting Crew’s balls down to a science.
And they all loved her for it.
“What’s going on?” Rez asked.
“We were told to standby and wait for further word,” Crew said.
“Yeah, genius, we heard that part. You want to explain why?” asked Luke Rodgers, another DEA agent like Crew, Cabrera and Torres.
“Don’t mind him,” Cabrera said. “Getting up this early meant he didn’t get all of his beauty rest. He’s a bit discombobulated.”
“Pretty fucking big word for such a tiny woman,” Crew retorted.
“I might be tiny, but I still pack a punch.”
Behind Nox, Torres snorted. “Foreplay for the two of you must be explosive since you are always lobbing bombs at each other.”