We were pulling up for the third jump, and the last time they’d done this amount in a day was my first day on the job. Hawk told me on the ride over, “We spent so much time planning on how to scout out the Red Demon members that we got behind in our other workload. We’re playing catch-up now.”

It was nearing noon, a little after when we pulled up to a white townhouse. A large truck and trailer were parked in the driveway, with another red car at the curb.

I’d been to enough of these with them, so I knew what to expect. We already had our briefing, so when we rolled up, Brock and I darted out and went for the door. Hawk, Big, Burly all took off around to the back. Everyone checked in on their radios, but there was no movement from inside. The windows were boarded up.

Shetland was behind me, running in from his truck parked on the street.

Brock was closest to the door, and he glanced back. His eyebrows raised. Was I ready?

I nodded back, and his eyebrows lowered. A firm look was in place, and he pounded on the door. “Bail Bonds Enforcement! Open your door!”

There was no movement, no answer.

He kept hitting the door. “Open up! OPEN THE DOOR!”

More knocking.

More pounding.

Shetland started tapping the side of the garage with his stick.

“There’s nothing back here. They’re either not home or hoping to wait us out,” came from Hawk over the radio.

Brock reached for his radio. “Is Gramps on the radio?”

Crackle. “I’m here.”

“What was the vehicle that we were told this bail jump is driving?”

Crackle. “A red truck. Old. Broken down.”

“License plate?”

Gramps read the number.

Brock nodded at Shetland. “Can you check?”

“That’s a white truck.”

“Check anyway. We might’ve got the wrong color told to us.”

Shetland moved back, and Brock glanced at me. His finger lifted from the radio. “You doing okay?”

Was I doing okay?

My heart was pounding. Palms were sweaty. Knees were locked, but I wanted this. I was a bull in the gate, waiting to be released into the field. Hell yeah, I was okay. I flashed him a smile. “I’m fine.”

He narrowed his eyes, giving me a second study before Shetland came up. “Yeah. It’s the same plates. They must’ve switched the plates on us.”

Brock swore, then pushed on his radio. “The white truck is the vehicle—”

Shetland’s phone lit up. He read the screen, then lifted it for us to read.

Hawk: I need the radio.

Brock lifted his finger.

Cackle. “This is Hawk.”

Brock replied, “Go, Hawk.” “We’ve got movement back here. They’re trying to sneak out. Patio door opened. He’s running around the side of the house. To the west—”