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Craig suppressed the desire to drag the information out of the kid by driving as fast
as he could to the Reynolds house. “Who is it?”
“A gang.”
A sharp edge punctured Craig as bad memories squirmed to the surface like a
poisonous snake. “Which one?”
“The Dragons.”
Fuck me. Craig’s hands gripped the steering wheel like a lifeline. “You’re a member
of The Dragons?”
“Was,” the kid said. “I ain’t anymore.”
Craig cursed under his breath. “You’ll need protection. They don’t take kindly to
people who quit the gang.”
“How do you know?”
“Dane, remember I was a member of The Dragons. I know. If you quit them, there’s
hell to pay.”
“They’ll beat me until they break something.”
“That’s all they’ll do if you’re lucky.” Dane went silent long enough that Craig
spoke again. “What made you decide to quit the gang?”
“You. I figure if you could do it, so could I.”
Craig’s chest tightened and his throat went along for the ride. “I’m glad you’re
ditching those losers. You’re sure you don’t know what’s going down today?”
“Nah. They’re the older guys in the gang. They didn’t tell us younger guys what was
happening. Hey, man, um…there’s another reason why I told you.”
Craig turned into the squad car parking area at the Sheriff’s Department. “What’s
that?”
“My friend Hank just joined the gang. He’s only fourteen. He…uh…they told him he
could go along on this thing today as an initiation. He wouldn’t listen to me when I said it
was a bad mistake to join.”
Craig bit his tongue on the apprehension bubbling in his blood. It wouldn’t help a
damn thing to blow up. “I understand. Look, Dane, thank you for telling me this. For
admitting you were in the gang. Stay away from them from now on.”
“Yeah.”
“What’s Hank’s last name.”
“Frisco. Hank Frisco.” The line went dead.
“Dane?”
Less then ten minutes later, as Craig entered the sheriff’s department and briefed his
commander on what Dane had said about The Dragons, a call came through dispatch.
The Dragons had taken over The Hobby Shack on Wilmot.
* * * *
Suited up in their SWAT attire, Craig and his brothers, along with the rest of the
team, prepared for entry if negotiations broke down outside the mobile command post.
Bill Renfore, the team member who normally performed negotiations, was recovering
from a broken leg from a fall during a hiking trip. That left Craig, who acted as a
negotiator when Bill couldn’t.
Craig’s gut twisted. He hadn’t performed negotiations in a long time, and now that
he’d stepped up to the plate, nerves threatened to derail his cool.
“Time to cowboy up,” he said to Mick, Ian, Dace, and the other team members.
Trey and Kelso had already taken sniper positions nearby with recon in mind. The
store had huge windows in front, which made it easier to see what was happening. Craig
had tried making contact with the gang members using a megaphone but received no
response. Pitching a throw phone into the store became an option if they first made
contact with people inside.
“Six gang members are in full view of the big windows,” Trey said from his position.
“Big swarthy kid up front is packing an AK-47. Enough heat to do some damage.”
“Ballsy kids,” Mick said as Trey’s report came in.
Kelso reported in from his vantage point. “The blond kid has his arm around the
neck of a twenty-something woman.”
Craig moved into the command post vehicle. Time to try phone contact.
Incident commander Captain Jefferson Harris settled into the chair nearby. Balding,
about fifty, and with a commanding presence, the Captain had the entire team’s full
respect. “Here’s hoping these numb nuts don’t have enough balls to go any further than
they have.”
Craig arranged the headset over his head and shrugged, trying to ease the tension
from his shoulders. “If these were your usual idiot teenage boys out for a joyride, I’d say
the same. These are The Dragons. They were meaner than shit when I was a member, but
they’re a hell of a lot meaner now.”
Harris’s expression darkened. “You’re right. I was being a damned Pollyanna. How
old is that kid that Dane Kanter said is his friend?”
“The friend is only fourteen.”
Harris grunted in disgust. “Jesus.”
Ian Duffy, standing right outside the vehicle, adjusted the chin strap on his Kevlar
helmet. “The creeps are the worst gang in the area. Men grow up in the gang.” His gaze
traveled to Craig. “And if they don’t get out, they raise their children in the gang.”
Right then the sky opened up.
Friggin’ rain.
If there was one thing Craig hated during an operation, it was a thunderstorm, and
this one was a pisser. Torrents unloaded, assuring that the other team members were
soaked before they could run under the overhang on the small bank building next to the
command center.
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