Page 42 of Hawkeye

The Webber house sat dark below my position, its stucco walls and tile roof broken into clean shapes by the moonlight. I had settled on a rocky rise beyond the neighboring property where the ground gave me the road, rear fence, side yard, and every vehicle approaching the drive without putting my silhouette against the sky. Mrs. Webber had already left with two brothers close enough to reach her if anything shifted, while the real Colt and the rest of Michael Webber’s collection remained locked inside Black Castle.

Stryker coordinated the teams below me. A few brothers covered the alley and rear vehicle route, held the east yard, and several more waited inside the tightening perimeter where the burglars would never see them until the exits were gone. Josie was at the clubhouse with Jacqueline, Bex, and Tamsin, which should have made it easy to keep my mind on the dark road, but the kiss she had given me earlier still burned across my mouth.

Stryker’s voice came through my earpiece. “Widow reached the memorial. Road’s clear.”

“Copy,” I murmured, scanning the bend again. “Nobody breaks position until the last man has left their vehicle. I want every one of them committed before we close.”

A dark cargo van appeared less than ten minutes later, moving slowly enough for the driver to study the houses. It passed the Webber driveway once, returned from the opposite direction, and stopped in the shadow of a pepper tree near the rear utility lane. Three men climbed out wearing dark clothes and gloves, and the last one shut the door without locking it before following the others toward the property.

The first man crossed the side yard and killed the exterior light near the utility entrance. Darkness settled over the back wall, but the night optics turned him into a brighter shape against the stucco while the other two worked a pry bar into the rear door. They forced the lock with less noise than most amateurs would have managed, then moved through the house without searching rooms or hesitating at intersections.

A compact monitor beside my elbow carried the feed from the camera hidden inside the study. Two men entered first and went directly to the shelf Josie had rebuilt from the old photograph, while the third remained in the yard long enough to watch the street. He finally crossed the fence line and moved toward the house, leaving the van empty and every member of the crew on ground we controlled.

“Now.” I shifted my rifle against its sling. “Close it.”

“Take them,” Stryker ordered.

The property changed around the thieves in seconds. Zero drove a truck across the rear route, Skyfall and Breach closed the utility entrance, and Falcon emerged from the dark behind the lookout before the man realized he had lost the yard. Falcon caught him by the collar, drove him into the fence, and stripped the pistol from his waistband while the bastard was still trying to suck air back into his lungs.

Inside the study, one burglar dropped the decoy presentation box and reached beneath his jacket. Smoke shouted once for him to keep his fucking hands visible, but the man cleared the weapon anyway. Two controlled shots ended the argument, and he collapsed beside the shelf without getting a round off.

The third man bolted through the kitchen, hit the utility door hard enough to bounce off Breach’s shoulder, and cut toward the van when he saw the rear route blocked. I slung the rifle across my back, took the direct path down the rocky slope, and reached the street as he yanked the driver’s door open. He turned with a knife in one hand and panic widening his eyes when he recognized who had stepped between him and the road.

“Back the fuck up,” he rasped.

“Wrong direction,” I told him.

He lunged. I caught his knife wrist, broke it against the doorframe, and drove my other fist into his throat before sweeping his legs out from under him. The back of his skull struck the pavement, but his eyes remained open, which was all I required. I pinned him beside the van until Stryker reached us with restraints.

The cargo area contained more than burglary equipment. A carved medal frame lay beneath two wrapped watches, service photographs, old letters, and a presentation saber packed carelessly between moving blankets. I recognized the engraved watch and one distinctive frame from photographs Cipher had circulated after another family reported a burglary earlier in the week.

“These fuckers came here after hitting another target,” Trigger growled behind me, dragging the surviving lookout toward the road.

“They were clearing one job while starting the next.” I reached through the open driver’s door and found a burner phone resting in the cupholder. Its screen was still live, and the latest message preview gave me enough reason to open the full thread before the lock engaged.

The recent messages stripped away any remaining doubt about the next move. The crew leader knew we had taken Tippon’s yard, believed Josie was helping decode the dispatch ledger, and wanted the ledger, her auction-house cross-reference, and every review note Wynnock had created. The final message suggested using Josie’s mother if Josie refused to cooperate.

The rage that moved through me went cold enough to slow my breathing. I read the message again, memorized the number, time, and exact wording, then crossed to the man I had taken beside the van. He sat against the front tire with his broken wrist pulled tight to his chest while Stryker stood over him.

“Where are Tippon and the motherfucker giving orders?” I demanded, crouching until we were eye level.

“I don’t know.” His voice shook, but his gaze held mine for less than a second before dropping. “They stopped telling us locations after the yard got hit.”

“Your boss wrote that he would use Josie’s mother.” I held the burner close enough for him to recognize the thread. “You have one chance to give me something useful before I decide your broken wrist is the least interesting injury you leave with.”

“They’re moving around,” he blurted. “Trying to get the ledger back before they leave the area. Tippon wants the ledger, and the boss wants the girl because she can tell them how much the auction house knows.”

“Where do they plan to meet?”

“I swear I don’t know. We got orders through that phone, and pickup points changed every time.” His fear was real now, his pupils wide and his body angled away from me despite the van trapping him in place. “They’re not leaving until they get the records. The boss thinks she’ll trade if her mother’s involved.”

I believed he had reached the edge of what he knew, which meant keeping him conscious had become somebody else’s problem. Stryker sent him and Trigger’s prisoner to a secured club property, then assigned brothers to remain at the Webber house until the widow returned. The van and the stolen heirlooms were taken to Black Castle, where Josie and Wynnock could help identify the families.

The ride back to the clubhouse should have cooled the violence grinding through me, but every mile only sharpened the need to put my hands on Josie and see her safe for myself. My cock thickened against my jeans, but the heat only braided itself through the possessive rage already demanding that I keep her and her mother out of danger’s reach.

Josie crossed the lounge as soon as I walked inside. She came straight to me, and I caught her around the waist the moment she reached me. Her warm curves settled against my body, her arms locked around my shoulders, and I took the first full breath I had taken since reading the burner message. It filled my lungs with her familiar floral scent, and while it soothed my ire, it fed the need vibrating in my very soul.

“So?” she asked, lifting her face.