Page 16 of My Enemy Biker

"Walt was closing up early," Clint says. "Alone in the lot. Three men approached, two grabbed him, third drove. Threw him in the back. Gone in under a minute."

Professional. Planned. They knew his schedule, knew he'd be alone, knew the exact window.

That's the leak talking.

I find the van on Route 9 eastbound, timestamp matching. Dark blue Ford Transit, commercial plates.

I screenshot, run the plates. Comes back registered to a shell company two counties over. Dead end but expected.

"Got the van," I say. "Heading east on Route 9."

I switch to the next camera down the route. Find them again. Track them through three more cameras before they exit onto County Road 47, heading into rural territory where coverage goes thin.

"They're going to safe house territory," I say. "East county, where we don't have eyes."

"How many potential locations?" Clint asks.

I pull up our Marrow property database, cross-reference with the route trajectory. "Four properties that fit the profile. Two areknown Marrow holdings, one is suspected, one's a rental under a name we've flagged before."

"Can you narrow it?"

I switch to satellite imagery, pull recent feeds. Look for vehicle activity, heat signatures if I can get them.

The third property shows multiple heat sources in what looks like a basement space. Could be anything but the timing's right.

"This one." I point. "Rural route outside Millbrook. Basement heat signatures, multiple vehicles on property as of two hours ago."

Clint studies the image. "Confidence level?"

"Seventy percent."

"Good enough." He looks at the brothers. "Six of us. Cain, Tate, Holt, Diesel, me, and Knox. Fast entry, recover Walt, send the message. Questions?"

Nobody speaks.

"Gear up," Clint says. "We ride in ten."

I pack the laptop, pull my sidearm from the safe, check the magazine. Tate appears beside me, his own weapon already ready.

"Like old times," he says quietly.

"Hope not." Old times for Tate involved significantly more violence than I prefer for club operations. Effective, just messy.

"They took Walt in daylight," Tate says. "They're not worried about us. That needs to change."

He's right.

This is about more than recovery. It's about re-establishing that touching Bloomfield, touching our people, has consequences Marrow can't afford.

Ten minutes later we're riding.

Six bikes heading east, staying tight, moving fast. The sun's dropping, sky going orange and purple. Beautiful evening for violence.

Forty minutes to the property. We park a quarter mile out, approach on foot. Tate takes point, military precision in every movement.

I'm running the tactical layout in my head, satellite image overlaid with probable interior structure.

Single story house, basement access from inside. Three vehicles in the driveway, lights on inside. We need fast entry, overwhelming force, zero time for them to hurt Walt or call for backup.