Peaches grins, teeth flashing in the night. “I ain’t come to rescue your ass. You welcome, by the way.”

“So why did you come?”

The grin slides off his face. “Turns out D wasn’t just a snitch for the feds.”

I look down at the corpse, then back at Peaches. “He was talking to the Sureños?”

“Motherfucker tryin’ to play everybody. I’d be impressed if he wasn’t suckin’ Bala’s dick. After you called, Billy got him to talk real quick. Told us about this little gun deal.” Peaches looks at Billy. “We all good?”

Billy nods. “We gotta go, man.”

The faint sound of approaching sirens punctuates Billy’s remark.

“Hey,” I say to Billy, “you take out any of Bala’s men earlier tonight with a silencer?”

Billy frowns. “I look like James Bond to you? We came in right before you saw us, loud as fuck. Peaches, seriously, we gotta go.”

“We out.” Peaches trots down the loading dock stairs to the asphalt, Billy following. In the shadows at the back of the lot, a black Mercedes SUV rumbles to life, headlights off. Just before he gets into the SUV, Peaches calls out to me, “You find that Kamaka kid?”

I shake my head and start jogging toward the trees. The doors to Peaches’s SUV slam shut, and the Mercedes rolls across the lot and around the front of the warehouse and out of sight.

By the time I run through the tree line and past the wedding store, then cross the street to the flooring business where I parked my bike, the sirens are getting louder. I shove the KSG into the top box and lock it shut, then throw on my leather jacket and helmet. I start the bike, the engine throaty and eager, and I keep the headlight off as I turn onto the street and head back toward the exit. Behind me I hear sirens and the squeal of tires as police turn into the first entrance to the industrial park. I didn’t see Cargill leave, and I wonder if he got away. No time to track his jacked-up truck on my phone right now.