Nothing happened for a long minute, then the doors of the lead SUV opened and three men stepped out. They wore tactical gear, body armor, helmets, the works. The center man held a megaphone. We're looking for Caleb Hayes. The voice boomed across the compound.
Send him out and nobody gets hurt. Clutch stepped into view standing at the gate with his arms crossed. You're trespassing on private property. Turn around and leave. We just want the kid.
Yeah, well, the kid doesn't want you. So, here's how this is going to go. You're going to get back in your vehicles and disappear. Because in about 30 minutes this place is going to be crawling with federal agents and state police. You really want to be here when they arrive?
The man with the megaphone laughed. 30 minutes is plenty of time. For what? To burn this whole place down and everyone in it. The man gestured and the other SUVs disgorged their passengers.
Caleb counted 20 men all armed with automatic weapons. Shit's about to get real. Tiny's voice came over the radio. Caleb, you stay put and stay down.
The cartel soldier raised the megaphone again. Last chance. Send out the kid or we come in and take him. Come ahead and try. Clutch said.
His voice was calm, almost bored. But I should warn you you're not the first group of fools to roll up here thinking you're tough. Last ones left in ambulances. You're outnumbered. Am I?
Clutch raised his hand and snapped his fingers. Floodlights blazed to life illuminating the entire compound. In their harsh glare, Caleb could see what the cartel soldiers couldn't have known. Bikers positioned on rooftops behind vehicles and the guard towers. Rifles glinted in the light.
And there weren't 20 or 30 of them. There were hundreds. The lead cartel soldier's confidence wavered visibly. This is insane. You're protecting a nobody kid.
He's not nobody to us, Clutch interrupted. He saved one of our brothers. That makes him family, and we don't abandon family. The cartel has deep pockets. We can make this worth your while.
The Hells Angels don't negotiate with drug dealers. Clutch's voice hardened. You got 10 seconds to get back in those trucks and leave. 10, 9 The cartel soldiers looked at each other, uncertainty rippling through their ranks. They'd come expecting a fight, but not this.
Not 400 armed bikers ready to die defending a stranger. 8, 7 You're making a mistake, the lead soldier said, but his voice had lost its edge. 6 5, booyah. The soldier raised his weapon.
Then a new sound cut through the tension, helicopter rotors growing louder. This is the DEA, a voice blared from a loudspeaker in the sky. All armed personnel, drop your weapons and get on the ground. This compound is surrounded. The helicopter swooped low, its spotlight pinning the cartel vehicles.
Behind them on the access road, a convoy of federal vehicles screamed into view, SWAT vans, armored trucks, agents in tactical gear. The lead cartel soldier looked up at the helicopter, then at Clutch, then at his own men. Whatever calculation he made ended with him slowly lowering his weapon. On the ground, DEA agents were pouring out of vehicles, weapons drawn. The cartel soldiers dropped their guns and hit the dirt, hands behind their heads.