another still."
Cruz scrubbed his hands over his face. "Bootleg O'Kane liquor?"
"Looks like."
Ace had too damn much experience getting his dick under control, and it was still a struggle to shift gears. He had to shift gears, because if Mad hadn't just burned the place to the ground, it meant complications.
Complications meant danger. "Where is it?"
"Way the hell over in Three." Jas shoved his hands into his pockets and took a step back. "Meet us in the garage. Five minutes."
Jas vanished, and Ace blew out a rough breath and rubbed a hand over his face. "I guess the good life has a price. You okay, angel?"
She'd already reached for her robe. She slipped her arms into it and rose up to kiss him, soft and quick. Then she turned to Cruz and did the same. "Be careful. And I'll be here when you get back."
Cruz grabbed her hand. "Rachel--"
"It'll keep." She glanced back and forth between them. "I mean it. Watch yourselves out there. Come back to me."
The other man was still staring at her, conflicted and clearly reluctant to leave, so Ace caught him by the back of the shirt. "Come on, lover boy. Clear your head on the way to the garage. It's time to make war."
One look at the shack beside the half-collapsed factory, and Cruz knew this couldn't be the base of operations.
At first glance, it was just like the one he and Bren had stumbled across the first time--small, nondescript, hastily assembled. But those things had been a cover, a way to hide the real treasures within. This one didn't even have a sophisticated lock on the door, and he'd stake his life on the certainty that the interior would reflect that. Sparse and minimalist, the product picked up as soon as it was bottled, with only the necessary supplies on hand and no surplus.
They'd changed their game plan.
Resources were a precious commodity--when he'd seen their lack at the first location, he'd assumed that was all they had. But no one who had lost everything would have been able to set up a second location this quickly. And from the looks of things, instead of wasting time and money this time around, they'd accepted the inevitable.
It was brilliant, insane--temporary stills that popped up out of nowhere. Unprotected and totally disposable, like the men running them. Dallas could swat them down as fast as he wanted, and it wouldn't do a damn bit of good. One batch of passable swill in counterfeit O'Kane bottles could pay for the whole operation. Everything after that was a bonus.
Jasper kicked at a broken crate near the door. "Bets on whether it's outfitted the same as the last one?"
"No deal," Ace drawled, crouching to retrieve a crumpled piece of paper. He smoothed it out to reveal a label, too crooked to be useful, but otherwise a pretty close approximation of the legitimate design.
To Cruz, at least. Ace scowled, glaring down at it. "They could have at least gotten someone who could trace in straight lines. I'm fucking offended."
Bren returned from his recon around the building. "Truck out back. Either they parked it here, or there are men inside."
Jasper shook his head. "They wouldn't leave it unattended. Only question is how many bodies."
"Not enough." Mad was checking the sheaths on his wrists, a tight smile curving his lips. "The building's not big enough for a still and a dozen guys, and that's what it'd take. The five of us can handle it."
Jas nodded, satisfied. "Bren, you and Cruz take the back. Mad, Ace, and I will go knock on the front door and say hi."
Ace straightened, still looking murderous and distracted, and the first twinge of anxiety stirred in Cruz's chest. He'd started something they hadn't been able to finish, opened that door Ace had been pounding on forever.
God only knew what lay on the other side. The three of them in a tangle of sweaty, naked limbs, fucking in configurations Cruz was still ashamed to have dreamed up. Probably fucking in a few he couldn't have dreamed up.
On his own.
And now he was thinking about naked
Cruz scrubbed his hands over his face. "Bootleg O'Kane liquor?"
"Looks like."
Ace had too damn much experience getting his dick under control, and it was still a struggle to shift gears. He had to shift gears, because if Mad hadn't just burned the place to the ground, it meant complications.
Complications meant danger. "Where is it?"
"Way the hell over in Three." Jas shoved his hands into his pockets and took a step back. "Meet us in the garage. Five minutes."
Jas vanished, and Ace blew out a rough breath and rubbed a hand over his face. "I guess the good life has a price. You okay, angel?"
She'd already reached for her robe. She slipped her arms into it and rose up to kiss him, soft and quick. Then she turned to Cruz and did the same. "Be careful. And I'll be here when you get back."
Cruz grabbed her hand. "Rachel--"
"It'll keep." She glanced back and forth between them. "I mean it. Watch yourselves out there. Come back to me."
The other man was still staring at her, conflicted and clearly reluctant to leave, so Ace caught him by the back of the shirt. "Come on, lover boy. Clear your head on the way to the garage. It's time to make war."
One look at the shack beside the half-collapsed factory, and Cruz knew this couldn't be the base of operations.
At first glance, it was just like the one he and Bren had stumbled across the first time--small, nondescript, hastily assembled. But those things had been a cover, a way to hide the real treasures within. This one didn't even have a sophisticated lock on the door, and he'd stake his life on the certainty that the interior would reflect that. Sparse and minimalist, the product picked up as soon as it was bottled, with only the necessary supplies on hand and no surplus.
They'd changed their game plan.
Resources were a precious commodity--when he'd seen their lack at the first location, he'd assumed that was all they had. But no one who had lost everything would have been able to set up a second location this quickly. And from the looks of things, instead of wasting time and money this time around, they'd accepted the inevitable.
It was brilliant, insane--temporary stills that popped up out of nowhere. Unprotected and totally disposable, like the men running them. Dallas could swat them down as fast as he wanted, and it wouldn't do a damn bit of good. One batch of passable swill in counterfeit O'Kane bottles could pay for the whole operation. Everything after that was a bonus.
Jasper kicked at a broken crate near the door. "Bets on whether it's outfitted the same as the last one?"
"No deal," Ace drawled, crouching to retrieve a crumpled piece of paper. He smoothed it out to reveal a label, too crooked to be useful, but otherwise a pretty close approximation of the legitimate design.
To Cruz, at least. Ace scowled, glaring down at it. "They could have at least gotten someone who could trace in straight lines. I'm fucking offended."
Bren returned from his recon around the building. "Truck out back. Either they parked it here, or there are men inside."
Jasper shook his head. "They wouldn't leave it unattended. Only question is how many bodies."
"Not enough." Mad was checking the sheaths on his wrists, a tight smile curving his lips. "The building's not big enough for a still and a dozen guys, and that's what it'd take. The five of us can handle it."
Jas nodded, satisfied. "Bren, you and Cruz take the back. Mad, Ace, and I will go knock on the front door and say hi."
Ace straightened, still looking murderous and distracted, and the first twinge of anxiety stirred in Cruz's chest. He'd started something they hadn't been able to finish, opened that door Ace had been pounding on forever.
God only knew what lay on the other side. The three of them in a tangle of sweaty, naked limbs, fucking in configurations Cruz was still ashamed to have dreamed up. Probably fucking in a few he couldn't have dreamed up.
On his own.
And now he was thinking about naked
Similar Books
