Greg walked to the front of his truck, a cocky, deeply arrogant smile plastered across his face. The fear from earlier in the afternoon was entirely gone. He looked at Marcus sitting alone on his bike and let out a sharp, mocking laugh.
"I gotta admit," Greg called out, his voice echoing across the empty yard. "I really thought you'd bring backup, biker. I really thought you'd be smart enough to know you can't walk into the lion’s den alone."
Marcus calmly reached down and turned off his motorcycle. He kicked the kickstand down, picked up the yellow envelope, and slowly stood up.
"I prefer quiet meetings," Marcus said, his voice carrying easily through the night air.
Greg tapped a heavy Maglite flashlight against his palm. "Where's my wife? Where's the kid?"
"They're gone, Greg. You’re never seeing them again," Marcus replied flatly.
Greg’s arrogant smile twisted into an ugly snarl. "She doesn't get to make that choice. She took property from my home. Property you're holding right now." He gestured to the envelope. "Toss it over. Then maybe my boys and I will let you ride out of here with your teeth still in your head."
Marcus didn't throw it. He held the envelope up slightly, letting the dim yellow street light hit it.
"Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars," Marcus said loudly, making sure his voice was incredibly clear. "You forged Sarah's signature to access the Leo Davis Trust Fund. You transferred the boy's life insurance money into your bankrupt LLC. Is that right, Greg?"
Greg scoffed, taking two steps closer, surrounded by his muscle.
"She was a naive idiot, and the kid is a brat," Greg boasted, completely oblivious to the danger. "I put a roof over their heads! That money was just sitting there doing nothing. I needed it to save my business. My brother at the precinct made sure the local cops looked the other way. Nobody is ever going to know. Now throw me the damn drive!"
"I just wanted to make sure I understood the situation," Marcus said.
Marcus casually tossed the yellow envelope onto the gravel between them.
Greg lunged forward, snatching the envelope off the rocks. He ripped it open, a victorious grin spreading across his face as he pulled out the digital flash drive.
"You stupid bastard," Greg laughed, holding the drive up in the air. "I'm going to smash this into a hundred pieces, and then my boys are going to put you in the hospital. Tomorrow morning, my brother will issue the warrant for Sarah, and I’ll have my kid back."
Marcus just smiled. It was a cold, terrifying smile that finally made Greg hesitate.
"You're right about one thing, Greg," Marcus said softly. "I didn't bring my boys. But I didn't come alone, either."
Marcus reached up and tapped two fingers against his chest.
Suddenly, the darkness of the lumber yard erupted in blinding light.
Twenty massive halogen high-beams snapped on from the shadows of the timber stacks, entirely surrounding Greg and his crew.
The rumble of heavy motorcycle engines shook the ground as the Bearcat Brotherhood rolled out of the darkness in perfect unison, closing the circle. But they weren't alone.
Red and blue emergency lights flashed brilliantly from behind the timber stacks. Three unmarked black SUVs tore out of the shadows, locking up their brakes and completely boxing in Greg’s vehicles.
"State Police! Drop your weapons! Nobody move!"
Doors flew open. A dozen state investigators in tactical vests poured out, sidearms drawn and flashlights blinding Greg’s crew.
Greg’s workers didn't even hesitate. The moment they saw the State Police badges and the overwhelming numbers of the Brotherhood, they dropped their crowbars onto the gravel and raised their hands in the air, instantly surrendering.