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no signs of the other members. From his vantage point behind a large crate, Tek studied the west side of the building, searching out a familiar form. C’mon, you crazy son of a bitch. Where are you?
    Tek jerked when Rocco tapped him on the shoulder and whispered, “Set the charges.”
    Tek bit down on the angry snarl of protest that was poised on his lips. Fuck the explosives. Fuck the Bangers. Fuck the guns and the mission and profit and…. Tek stole another glance to the west, willed his friend to appear, but the warehouse stayed still and silent. Goddammit, Jamie, where are you?
    Obviously knowing what Tek was stressing about, Rocco patted Tek’s shoulder. “Get it set and we’ll go find them,” Rocco assured him.
    “Watch for them,” Tek demanded, not caring he was ordering around the pres. Fuck him too.
    With trembling hands, Tek removed the pack from his back and pulled out the C-4. He had enough material to leave nothing but a crater in the wake of the explosion. If he could just get his fucking hands to work. Where the hell is Jamie? Tek clamped down on his fear, pushed it out of his head. He needed to focus on the job, get in and get out.
    “Hurry up,” Rocco hissed.
    Tek was about to tell Rocco to fuck off, but he bit his tongue. The pres was right. Tek set the charges, dumped the pack, and stuffed the detonator in his pocket, careful not to hit the switch. Getting his ass blown into a million little pieces wasn’t part of the plan tonight. Tek rejoined Rocco in his hiding spot behind the crates and gave him a thumbs-up.
    A loud crash and blinding lights disoriented Tek for a moment. He stared at the front of the building where the disturbance came from. He shielded his eyes from the high beams on the truck that had crashed through the doors. He caught up quickly however when four men jumped out of the truck and bullets began whizzing by his head.
    “Told you this looked too fucking easy,” Tek snarled at Rocco as they dove for cover.
    “I hate party crashers,” Rocco growled.
    Tek dodged and weaved, following behind Rocco and hoping like hell the sons of bitches chasing him didn’t get lucky and hit their mark. Behind a rusted-out old truck, Tek stopped long enough to return fire, unloading all ten shots and switching clips as he moved. Rocco gave covering fire.
    Tek wasn’t afraid; the rush of adrenaline surging through him was all about survival. He had no time for fear. His pulse was thumping, sweat rolling down his spine, but his focus was narrowed. Looking ahead to the next hidden spot, aware of Rocco, the assholes behind him, and his weapon, there was no room for anything else in his head.
    So focused on the next move, Tek wasn’t aware that the gunfire had ceased until he slipped behind another junk car and trained his weapon on the area he’d just come from. Nothing. The roar of the truck engine was still loud in the room, but nothing else. No one screaming, no blasts of gunfire. Tek’s brow dipped, and he shot a questioning look at Rocco who was crouched next to him.
    “I saw them both go down,” Rocco assured him.
    “Where the hell did the other two go?”
    Rocco nodded to the west.
    Jamie!
    Tek’s grip tightened on his weapon, and without a thought for his own safety, he started to move to the west side of the warehouse.
    Rocco grabbed the back of Tek’s jacket, halting him. “Where are you going?”
    Tek glared at Rocco and yanked free. He was on a mission.
    “Will you at least stay the fuck down,” Rocco pleaded. “Your mom will have my balls if I let something happen to you.”
    “Then you better watch my back,” Tek countered, but he did follow Rocco’s orders to stick to the shadows and cover of the various cars, boxes, and machinery. He’d be no good to Jamie if he got a bullet in his head.
    Tek stepped around a piece of junk, and his heart stopped in his chest along with his breath. Jamie was on his knees, hands behind his head, and some motherfucker who was about