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Heff stood in the woods behind Sandy’s house, watching the glow of the vape pen. Sitting as he was in the shadows, dressed in dark clothing, Petraski wasn’t easy to see.
Then, Sandy opened the door, and light spilled out onto the back deck.
She looked ... beautiful. Her hair was loose and damp-looking, as if she’d just taken a shower. The shorts she wore showcased her toned, curvy legs, legs he craved to feel wrapping around his head—or his hips—as he brought her pleasure time and time again.
Even more, he wanted to hold her in his arms and tell her that everything was going to be okay.
Instead, he was out in the woods, watching and waiting for Frick—aka Lenny Petraski—to do something stupid.
The two of them exchanged words—Heff couldn’t hear what was said—and then Sandy went back into the house. A few minutes later, Petraski looked at his phone and then got up and went into his side of the house.
“Incoming,” Mad Dog said through the tiny receiver in Heff’s ear. “ETA, five minutes.”
“Roger that.”
Heff silently worked his way through the backyard, a shadow moving among shadows. He paused by the large rhododendron beneath Sandy’s open living room window, listening to the one- to two-second sound bites as she channel-surfed from one station to the next.
Tamping down the urge to join her, he waited. Sure enough, Frack showed up in his pickup, right on time. Petraski hopped in, and they were off.
Heff skirted between the houses, slipping into the back of the dark SUV. Mad Dog and Smoke were up front.
“Did you get the tracker on the vehicle?”
Smoke pointed at the dashboard screen in answer. They stayed a good mile or so behind as the pickup made its way out of town. Instead of taking the road that led to the Sanctuary, they drove along the base of the mountain, heading north.
Mad Dog slowed as he reached the point where they’d turned off the main road. At least half a dozen No Trespassing, Private Property, and Violators Will Be Shot signs flanked the turn-off entrance.
Heff gazed out from the tinted back window, his eyes moving upward, narrowing when he spotted what he’d been looking for. “Keep going. They’ve got cameras.”
Mad Dog continued on, pulling the SUV off the road where it wasn’t likely to be seen. The GPS showed that the truck had stopped a few miles in. They noted the coordinates and then doubled back on foot.
They moved quickly and quietly until they found what they were looking for. They exchanged a look and a few hand signals. Mad Dog and Smoke took off in different directions, disappearing into the darkness. Heff scouted around and then began to climb.
He sat high in the tree, his night vision scope trained on the compound below. And it was a compound, complete with barracks and outbuildings and rednecks in camo. The tarp covering the back of the truck bed had been pulled back, and several men were unloading crates stamped with the name of a military surplus supply store.
He snapped a few pictures and then quietly climbed back down and moved toward the meet point. His shoulder and back ached, a dull, lingering result of his time overseas. He wasn’t going to complain. He was still breathing, still mobile, and had all of his parts. There were quite a few who hadn’t been as fortunate.
Smoke, the stealthy fucker, appeared without a sound and out of nowhere, reminding Heff of how he’d come to have that call name. Mad Dog joined them shortly after. Together, they made their way back to their vehicle, silent by mutual agreement until they were back on the road.
“Fucking hell,” Smoke said. “Sumneyville’s got its own Meal Team Six.”
“Roger that,” Heff agreed.
Mad Dog called ahead, and everyone was waiting for them in the war room.
“Preppers,” Mad Dog told the others when they arrived.
Church nodded, but Sam asked, “What are preppers?”
“Survivalists,” Smoke explained. “They actively prepare by stockpiling things like food, fuel, and weapons.”
Sam furrowed her brows. “Prepare for what exactly?”
“Anything that might disrupt the social or political order of things. Natural disasters, terrorist attacks. Doomsday. Alien invasion. Take your pick,” Church answered grimly and looked to Smoke. “How prepped are they?”
“They’ve got two sets of barracks equipped to handle about fifty or so. Crates of MREs. Fifty-five-gallon drums of fuel. An assortment of weapons, everything from Bowie knives to semis and enough ammo to protect and defend.”
Sam nodded, looking concerned. “I can see it. Lots of the local guys like to hunt and have cabins in the woods. Even the local schools are closed the Monday after Thanksgiving for the first day of buck season.” She frowned. “But that’s not illegal, is it?”
“No, it’s not. But having that many weapons in the hands of those who might or might not know how to use them is something we need to be aware of.”
“Especially given what’s been happening around here. Some of those guys aren’t exactly fans of ours,” Heff said, exchanging a meaningful glance with Church.
Smoke pointed to the topographical map spread out on one of the tables. “The main compound is here, but they have access routes fanning outward in every direction, including a few that run along the southern and western edges of Sanctuary property.”
“How do you want to handle this, Church?” Heff asked.
“Sit tight for now,” Church answered. “Now that we’re aware, we’ll continue to monitor things closely. Cage, contact the Callaghans in Pine Ridge and see if they’re willing to lend us some eyes and ears. This is their backyard too, and my guess is, they’ll want to know about this.”
Cage nodded.
“Everyone else, it’s business as usual. Keep security tight and your eyes and ears open.”
Smoke wrapped his arm around Sam and led her out of the building. The rest of them remained.
Church looked pointedly at Heff. “You said Sandy shares a duplex with Petraski?”
“Yeah, but she doesn’t know anything about this.”
“No, but he knows she’s been hanging around with you, and that might complicate things.”
Heff blew out a breath. “Fucking hell.”
Church placed a hand on Heff’s shoulder. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think she’s in any danger. You, on the other hand, had better watch your six.”