Chapter 5 - The Trap at Mile Marker 42
The sharp report of the sniper rifle reverberated off the rusted corrugated metal of the harbor warehouses, shattering the midnight silence into a thousand jagged pieces.
"Down! Everybody down!" Snake yelled, grabbing Sarah and pulling her and Madison onto the floorboards of the pickup truck as a second bullet pinged off the truck's steel bed with a deafening screech.
Outside, the Iron Skulls moved with the terrifying, practiced efficiency of men who had survived gang wars and highway ambushes. Within seconds, the bikers had scattered into the shadows, utilizing the maze of shipping containers for cover. Bulldog rolled across the gravel, coming up behind a concrete loading dock, his eyes scanning the rooftops.
"Snake! Preacher! Flank the eastern ladder! There's a sniper on the roof of Warehouse Six!" Bulldog barked into his shoulder radio.
"On it, Boss!" Snake’s voice crackled back.
Inside the truck, Sarah was hyperventilating, her arms wrapped tightly around Madison to shield her from flying glass or stray rounds. "Madison! Are you okay? Did you see that?"
Madison didn't look scared at all. She was peering calmly out the cracked passenger window, watching the tracer rounds streak through the foggy air.
"Don't worry, Mommy," Madison said softly, patting Sarah's trembling arm. "Emma said the bad man on the roof is clumsy. He's going to trip over his own flashlight."
As if on cue, a loud clatter echoed from the top of Warehouse Six, followed by a startled curse and a heavy thud as a man tumbled off the roof's edge, sliding down a corrugated plastic skylight before landing unceremoniously in a dumpster filled with empty cardboard boxes.
A moment later, Snake’s voice came over the radio, sounding bewildered. "Boss... we didn't even reach the ladder. The sniper tried to reposition, tripped over a loose cable, and knocked himself out cold in a dumpster. Guy's a total amateur."
Bulldog smirked grimly, pressing his advantage. "Round up the suit-wearers by the front door. Nobody gets out."
The three corporate thugs standing by Tank’s warehouse door didn't even try to put up a fight. Seeing two dozen angry, leather-clad bikers emerge from the darkness like an army of vengeance, they dropped their gas cans and crowbars instantly, raising their hands above their heads.
Within ten minutes, the skirmish was over. The thugs were zip-tied and forced to sit on the cold asphalt under the watchful eye of Preacher and three other club members.
Bulldog walked over to the pickup truck, opening the passenger door. He offered a large, calloused hand to help Sarah and Madison down.
"You both alright?" Bulldog asked, his voice softening as he looked at Sarah’s pale, shaken face.
"I... I think so," Sarah gasped, clutching her chest. "Are you crazy? Why did you bring us here? That was a sniper! My daughter could have been killed!"
"You're right. It was a risk," Bulldog admitted heavily, looking down at Madison. "But if your daughter hadn't warned us about the sniper's position, I’d probably have a bullet through my chest right now."
Madison stepped out of the truck, walking right up to the main thug—a sweating man in an expensive Armani suit who was shivering in the night air.
The little girl stared up at him with piercing, serious eyes.
"You shouldn't have hurt Tank," Madison said, her voice dropping into a register that sounded chillingly adult. "And you shouldn't have hurt Emma."
The corporate thug flinched, staring down at the five-year-old in disbelief and growing terror. "Who... who the hell is Emma? What is this kid talking about?"
"She knows who Emma is," Bulldog growled, stepping forward and grabbing the man by his silk tie, hauling him to his feet. "And so do you. Because five years ago, your syndicate ran her off the road at Mile Marker 42 just like you tried to do to Tank today."
The thug's eyes went wide with sheer panic. "I—I don't know anything about an accident five years ago! I just work for acquisitions!"
"Yeah? Well, your boss's digital ledgers are sitting right inside this warehouse on Tank's secure server," Bulldog said, shoving the man back down against the concrete. "And by morning, every single file detailing your corporate sabotage, your payoffs, and your vehicular homicides is going straight to the federal prosecutor's office."
Snake walked up, carrying a heavy duffel bag he had retrieved from inside the warehouse. "Got the hard drives, Boss. Everything Tank was working on. Plus the dash-cam footage from the truck that sideswiped Tank this morning. License plates are clear as day."
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Bulldog nodded, looking down at Madison, who smiled gently and reached out to touch the heavy silver medallion hanging around her neck.
"Can we go back to the hospital now?" Madison asked sleepily, rubbing her eyes. "Tank is going to wake up soon, and he needs someone to tell him a bedtime story."
