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that the run tonight was nothing more than a message. However, Tek knew firsthand how quickly shit could turn ugly. He had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach as they parked the bikes in the woods.
    Rocco crouched down near the end of his bike and pointed at Sully and Jamie and then toward the west side of the warehouse. He then pointed at Tek and gave the hand signal for ‘on me.’ Tek gritted his teeth against the protest that wanted out as he watched Jamie move off into the dark with Sully. He understood Rocco’s reasoning—a veteran with a younger member—but it just didn’t sit right with Tek. Jamie was his responsibility.
    Tek pulled the Beretta 90-TWO from his waistband at the small of his back and pushed the safety lever into the “fire” position as he followed Rocco to the east. Tek’s attention was only half on Rocco as he watched Jamie’s familiar form move off to the west. Tek’s unease grew. He didn’t trust anyone to have his back other than Jamie, and Tek hated not being able to have Jamie’s. They were a team, a constant, one incomplete without the other. Still, he pushed the anxiety down, focused on the task at hand. Get in and get out as quickly as possible. The sooner they got this shit done, got back to the clubhouse, Jamie safe, the better Tek would feel.
    Rocco came to a stop behind a small group of trees. He pointed two fingers toward his eyes and then to the front door of the warehouse where a lone figure stood smoking. Tek nodded. They’d done recon, and these yahoos never had more than two men on guard duty. No doubt the other was somewhere munching Cheetos. Fuck, Tek hated dopeheads. They were unpredictable.
    They eased their way around to the side of the warehouse, Tek’s senses hyperaware of his surroundings. The pack on his back was filled with explosives—a solid weight. Constantly scanning the area, Tek strained to listen for sounds within, but it was difficult with the roar of blood in his ears as his heart hammered painfully.
    Rocco made a fist, indicating to Tek to stop, and then the president pointed toward a window. Once again Tek nodded in understanding. He tucked his gun back into his waistband and pulled out his blade. Slowly, he eased up from his crouching position, having to trust Rocco to keep an eye out for intruders, and carefully worked at the lock on the window. He was in a vulnerable position; the glass covered in heavy tinting didn’t allow Tek to see inside, but anyone from within the warehouse would have a clear visual of him. Tek let out a sigh of relief when the lock gave. He flipped the blade closed and stuffed it into his pocket, then once again grabbed his gun, thumb sliding over the safety.
    Tek glanced at Rocco who gave him a curt nod. Here we go . Tek eased up the window, finger on the Beretta moving to the trigger, expecting the blaring sound of an alarm. Nothing. Gotta love druggies . Tek smirked and pushed the window wide open.
    The warehouse that once housed a small upholstery business was now littered with junk cars, boxes, and rubbish. The cloying scent of musk, mold, and gasoline filled Tek’s nostrils. A single low-wattage bulb hung from wires near the front door, the rest of the interior dark and in shadow. Tek scanned the area the best he could and listened for any sounds that would alert him to anyone’s presence. All was silent and still.
    Easing back down to a crouching position and facing Rocco, Tek whispered, “I don’t like it. It’s too quiet.”
    “Did you get a visual on the other guy?” Rocco inquired.
    Tek shook his head.
    “Probably napping,” Rocco surmised. “Let’s go.”
    Tek pointed his weapon first to one end of the warehouse and then the other as Rocco made his way in through the open window, before following. They stayed to the shadows, making their way to the back of the building to hook up with Sully and Jamie.
    Tek’s trepidation grew, his stomach clenching when they arrived at the rendezvous spot with