Page 109 of Knox Unleashed
Havoc’s face changes. “Prez. That would leave us short-handed if?—”
“Just do it.” He and I both know our semis shouldn’t be going to prospects to watch over a woman, leaving us ill-prepared here. So, I play the only hand I have. “I asked her to be my old lady. She’s got my fucking heart, brother. I don’t know what I’d do if they take her and hurt her.”
“Jesus,” Havoc says. “Fine. I’ll send one. And, hopefully, Alvarez doesn’t come back for seven days.” He pauses and takes a deep breath. “You think he’s going to be okay, Prez?”
I also take a deep breath. “He’s alive. And we’ll do whatever we have to do to keep it that way.”
“You think I should call his mom?”
I shake my head. “Let him decide that. I need you in church. And so does Vandal. You’re more use in there than in his room with him. Give him his privacy and let Reaper decide what the right steps are. Trust your brother to make the right call.”
When we step into church, everyone is seated, and I find my fucking feet after they were just whipped out from under me.
“We’re gonna lock it the fuck down,” I bark, my voice snapping through the chatter. “I want the perimeter of the compound sealed off. Don’t waste time fortifying. That missile launcher suggests that anything we do with gates and bricks will be blown apart in seconds. But I want spotters or cameras posted on the roads and warnings of anyone incoming. There are only two roads that lead here. Ridge, I want them manned as farup as we can go to give us as much notice that they are on their way in.”
“I’ll set that up.”
I debate the urge to go drag Maren here. But I know that this is the epicenter right now. And Alvarez left in the opposite direction to her home. My gut tells me a man like Alvarez means what he says. Which means we won’t see him again for seven days.
Goddamnit.
“Sunny, call in every prospect. I want them on hand, at all times, for the next seven days. Go through the list of hangarounds waiting for a prospect slot. Ignore the ones currently on Maren. Find the best ten and call them in too.”
Sunny nods. “It’ll be done in the next hour.”
“Havoc,” I continue. “I want an inventory of every weapon we’ve got. Then, make a list of what equipment we need to effectively see these guys off. Do it quick. I’m gonna call King and ask for national help.” I remember I never heard back from Grudge or Wren about that plate and make a note to call and ask. Knowing where the plate is registered might give us a location to start looking for Alvarez’s set up.
Havoc’s familiar grin is gone. “Got it. Plus I already sent Rainbow to Maren’s place with one of the semis.”
I turn to North. “I want intel. Everything we can find out about Mateo Alvarez. Dig deep. Send out feelers to people we know. I’ll call King, see if we can call in Vex or that other person, Wren. You need anything, let me know.”
North nods once. “I’ll start digging.”
“Start in Miami,” I add. “He’s not local. No way a man could build an operation like that without us knowing. Has to be east coast. Tampa is too far of a drive. And those guys didn’t look like they’d been riding hours to come down from Tampa.”
“On it,” North says.
I look to Lock. “You still got that friend of yours in the FBI office in Miramar?”
Havoc huffs a laugh for the first time since Alvarez appeared, since Vandal was hurt. “Feel like you should put air quotes around the friend bit, Prez.”
Lock raises his middle finger in Havoc’s direction. “I do.”
Usually, we find our way to humor, even in the darkest times. It lifts the spirits, builds a sense of team, helps ease the fear. But this spark of it doesn’t last. What just happened is too much for everyone to process.
“Ask her about Alvarez. The guy’s cocky. Confident enough to give us his name, as if he was untouchable, because he believes that us knowing wouldn’t make it any easier to catch him. I want ports checked, shipping routes, and anything else that might connect him to Gulf weapons or drugs trafficking. I want to know how he moves, who he’s got here, and how he built this.”
Lock’s eyebrows raise. “That’s a tall order, Prez. Not sure she’ll give us that much, but I’ll see what I can get.”
“Maybe you should ride over to Miramar and finally dick her down to persuade her,” Sunny says.
Lock glares at Sunny. “I let you get away with most of the shit that comes out of your mouth, but you ever talk about her like that again and I’ll?—”
“Sorry,” Sunny says. “But, brothers, we’re not gonna fix this if we don’t remember who we are. We gotta find a way through this together, like we always do. And if that’s making fun of Miramar chick or breaking into cheesy song like Vandal would, then…we just gotta hold on to that shit.”
I think about how Vandal is lying in his room, beaten to within an inch of his fucking life. And he’d still probably find a way to sing some song about getting knocked down and getting up again.
“Brothers. Sunny’s right. Lock, just call her. Do what you’ve got to do.”
