Jake sucked in a lungful of oxygen and swung his body into the bar, gun raised, and trigger pulled within an ounce of blowing Garvan away. Garvan didn’t make a move, wavering on wobbly legs thirty feet away. Blood coated his face like Indian war paint, dripping across his bare arms, over the top of his gun, and pattering against the wood floor. More shots rang out from the backside of the bar, distant, the fire spitting from the muzzles like strobes through the window. Garvan didn’t flinch.
Jake stepped forward. Zero chance the biker could beat him to the draw. But, maybe that was the point. “Drop the hand cannon, Garvan. You’re done.”
A sad sneer slipped on Garvan’s weary face, his teeth coated red. “I know. But, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’ll tell your old man hello for you.”
Garvan raised his gun, and Jake squeezed three rounds into his chest before the man’s pistol cleared his waist. The old biker flew back against an overturned table riddled with bullet holes and crashed to the ground. Jake advanced and kicked the .357 away from Garvan’s hand. As the two local cops swept through looking for other heartbeats, Jake knelt and checked Garvan’s carotid artery but found no pulse. He picked up the .357 and checked. Nothing but spent rounds. The redneck did go out in a blaze of glory.
“You okay, Caldwell?”
Jake turned to the cop. Six inches undersized and a decade younger than Jake, the kid blew out a breath he’d probably been holding for the last twenty minutes. What was his name? Beattie? Beety? Did it even matter at this point? “Where’s everyone else?”
The kid dropped sad eyes toward the front. “One dead. A bunch wounded. There’s goddamn bodies lying everywhere. I already called for reinforcements, but we’d better go back out and help ’em. Garvan wasn’t lying. It’ll take forever to get someone out here.”
“Where’s Bear? You seen or heard from him?”
The kid jerked a thumb toward the door. “He was out back with the other three guys. Tough to hear over the gunfire, but when ours died down, it sounded like they picked up the slack.”
Someone pounded on the back door. The kid removed the wood barring the door, and one of the state troopers staggered through holding his arm, blood weeping through clenched fingers, white teeth gritting through a thick beard. His glassy eyes spilled over Jake before he slumped against the wall and slid to the floor leaving a crimson streak behind. His eyes closed, and he dumped to the ground.
The other cop yelled from behind the bar. “Got a live one over here.”
“Give me your radio and check him out.” When the kid handed it over and ran to the trooper, Jake keyed the mic, trying to quell the panic threatening to bubble over. “Bear? You there, man? Bear?”
Jake jogged to the bar, calling Bear’s name through the radio, fear raking his belly each time he said his best friend’s name and Bear failed to answer. Behind the bar, one of the Blood Devils lay bleeding on his side among a potent mix of liquor and beer wafting like a wave from shattered bottles and busted taps. Jake’s eyes moved from the local cop pressing a bar rag against the biker’s neck and traced the alcohol disappearing between the hardwood slats, not pooling. He spotted a tiny ring set into the floor. A door. The crash from below minutes earlier echoed in his brain, and Jake had his suspicions about who caused the racket. He tugged on the ring and the hatch opened, revealing the darkness below.
Jake keyed the mic again. “Bear? Answer me.”
A voice crackled through the radio. It wasn’t Bear. “Why hello, Jake.”
Langston. Goddamn it. He hated being right.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Hearing Shane’s voice doubled Jake’s blood pressure. “Where the hell are you, Langston?”
“I think you know where I am. Wanna come out and play?”
But he didn’t know where Shane was. Did he have Bear’s radio or another cop’s? What was the sound in the background when Shane keyed the radio? It sounded like a crowd. Jake’s stomach dropped. Jesus, was Shane even here? He shook off the thought. How else would he have a radio if he wasn’t here? Two state troopers ran through the front entrance and Jake signaled them over.
“I do. Got a special present for you. Just let me know where you are.”
Shane grunted, and the crowd noise came through again along with a scraping sound. “I suppose you’ll be looking for revenge.”
Langston couldn’t be out front. It was possible he escaped through the floor hatch and hid away in Forthview. It was within running distance. The noise could be a crowd, maybe at the restaurant or bar. An armed and desperate Shane in a throng of people would be a disaster. It’d be far better to have the gunpowder and copper blood smell here than there.
Jake turned to the troopers. A few scrapes aside, they both appeared in good shape. “Langston’s on the other end. Maybe in a crowd. Run down to Forthview and comb the area. Find that son of a bitch.” They disappeared back out the front. Jake keyed the radio again as he edged toward the window, keeping his body glued as much as possible to the blood red walls of The Asylum. If Shane was out back, maybe he could spot him in the darkness if he got him talking. “We have your ass in a sling, Shane. We know about your whole little sex trafficking, drug smuggling, gun toting ring. You’re going down hard.”
Shane laughed. “Harder than Bear?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Maybe you’d better check the woods behind the bar. I left you a present. Tick tock, Jake.”
The handset went quiet and Jake’s heart stopped. He called for Bear on the radio again. Silence. Panic crept into his voice and macabre images flooded his brain. His fist thumped the blood red wall as he resisted the urge to dart out the back door into the night. Shane could be lying in wait for him. But what if Bear hung on for his life out there? The crowd sound in the background bounced around in his noggin again.
Jake hated the fear scraping his innards. “Langston. Goddamn it. Answer me.”
Silence. He gripped his Sig tighter and peered through the shattered windows into the darkness. The light of the moon bounced off leaves, but those pockets of light were few and far between. Shane, if he hid out there, wouldn’t be in one. He scanned the foliage again but couldn’t see shit.
Wait. Klages.
Jake yanked out his cell and called her. “You still have the drone up?”
“I did until two Blood Devils came running around the corner away from the bar. We nabbed them both, but I had to drop the controller to pull out my gun. The damn thing crashed and bent one of the blades.”
“Can you fix it?”
She paused a beat. “I think there’s spares in the carrying case. Give me a few minutes.”
“Hurry. Langston’s on the run and I’d love an eye in the sky.”
“I’ll work fast.”
Jake ended the call and crept toward the door, heart in his chest as he adjusted his vest. If Shane waited out there, he’d probably have his gun on the back door. Maybe the hatch in the bar floor existed for a reason. He ducked under the window and moved to the hatch behind the bar.
The young cop eyed him warily. “You going down there?”
Jake offered an inviting sweep of his hands to the hole. “Unless you want to.”
“Shit, no. I’m no fan of the dark.
“Neither am I.”
“You know what’s down there?”
“I’m guessing a way out into the woods. Think that’s how Langston slipped past Bear and his boys. I hope the weasel isn’t out there waiting to ambush me.”
The cop pursed his lips. “I’ll cover the back out the window. Key your mic three times before you stick your head into the open so I don’t shoot at you. Take my flashlight.”
The kid handed over a pocket flashlight, and Jake shined the beam in the hole. Dust particles danced in the air. A low-ceilinged room with a dirt floor, footprints leading away. Jake slapped a fresh magazine in his Sig Sauer, swung his legs over the side, and dropped down.
* * *
Shane pa
ddled across the river against the rippling current, his muscular arms burning. The landscape was easier to make out once the overhead foliage dissipated, but it was still dark as hell. He checked over his shoulder, the lights from The Asylum blinking through the thick grove of trees. Farther downstream, lights from Forthview called like a siren. He could get a boat there and make his escape. But he didn’t know the lake well in this area and could get trapped. Plus, the cops would be crawling all over and more likely to search for him there than across the riverbank. Still, might be better than paddling this damn canoe.
He reached the opposite shore in a few minutes, pulling up somewhere around the campsite where he killed the old man. The old man said a buddy dropped him up river, but maybe he stashed a car nearby. He needed to get out of the area and fast. Slinging the AR-15 over his shoulder, he hiked up the bank and took one last look toward The Asylum. A light danced in the woods. Caldwell. Had to be him. Wouldn’t be long until he found Bear, but he still wouldn’t know where Shane went.
Shane hung onto a tree, catching his breath. He’d had such grandiose plans of revenge against Bear and Jake. Was running the way for him to go? There existed a certain epic poetry in the way Garvan probably went out. Riddled with bullets, like a grizzled old gunfighter, not running away like a coward. But he also figured his chances against Caldwell one-on-one were less than certain. Better to live another day and take a shot at Jake and his precious family somewhere down the road. If Jake did get lucky and caught him, Shane knew Jake wouldn’t kill him. He was too much of a do-gooder. Shane would go back to prison, set up shop and strike again. If he got caught. He wasn’t giving up yet.
A buzzing noise overhead drew his attention to the stars. Scanning the skyline, he picked up the red lights of the drone blinking against the midnight sky. The device hovered fifty feet above his head, over the river.
A female voice sounded over the radio. “I got him, Jake. Opposite side of the river. Southeast of The Asylum.”
Shit. Nothing was ever easy. Shane turned tail and disappeared into the woods.
Chapter Fifty-Four
Jake pushed through overgrowth and emerged from the tunnel under The Asylum and into the woods. He killed the flashlight and keyed his mic three times to let the cop in the Asylum know he was out. He scanned the blackness for any sign of movement, his Sig held in front of him. When Klages came on the radio and announced Shane’s location across the river, indecision threatened to rip him in two. His first instinct screamed to take off at a run and go after Shane. But Bear could be lying somewhere nearby dead or bleeding out.
He called her on his cell. “Langston has a radio. No more announcements on our logistics over the radio. Keep tracking him. I gotta find Bear.”
“Gotcha. We could change channels on the radios.”
Jake activated the flashlight and panned the woods. “He might think of that, too. We’ll keep it open in case there’s something we want him to hear but talk to me through my cell.”
Klages groaned. “Shit. He’s disappeared in the woods. Going to be hard to track him.”
“Keep at it. I’ll touch base after I find Bear.”
Jake took five steps from the tunnel exit, and every cell in his body clinched at the bloody mess lying at his feet. For a split second, he thought it was Bear, and he’d found Shane’s promised present. He realized the guy was way too slender to be his best friend and reached around the blood-tacked neck to feel for a pulse he knew wouldn’t be there. Knife wound to the back of the neck. Fucking Langston.
Jake jogged to the east, following a narrow path, eyes darting for any sign of his friend. Brush crunched to his right, and he spun with gun raised, flashlight trained to the source. Bear lay on the ground, attempting to push up with his arm, the other held to his head.
Jake darted to his side and dropped to a knee. “Jesus, Bear. You alright, man?”
Bear groaned. “Am I shot?”
Jake scanned his body with the flashlight. “I don’t think so.”
“Thank Christ. I’d hate to go to physical therapy again.”
“What happened?”
Bear’s eyelids fluttered as if trying to clear his head. “Was heading up toward The Asylum, tracking O’Malley when shots bounced off the trees around me. I cracked my stupid head on something and dropped. Not sure what happened. Is O’Malley okay?”
“Big guy with a beard?”
“That’s him.”
“He made it inside but looks like he’s in pretty bad shape. Shane knifed one of the guys over there in the back of the neck. He’s gone.”
Bear sighed. “That’d be Harper. Shit. He just had a baby two months ago.”
“Langston said he left a present for me and you wouldn’t answer the radio. Scared the crap outta me.”
Bear’s eyes cleared. “Langston? You got him?”
“Little bastard disappeared across the river. Now that I know you’re not lying dead in a pool of blood, I’m going after him.”
“What about Garvan?”
“He won’t be needing that meeting with Keats.”
“You sure?”
Jake ticked his head. “Pulled the trigger myself.”
“Help me up.” Bear stood with Jake’s assistance, wobbling and grabbing a nearby tree for support. “I’m comin’ with you to go after Langston.”
“You’re like a newborn deer trying to walk. Stay here and help round up the Blood Devil survivors.”
Bear jerked forward. “Screw that. I want Shane.”
Jake placed a firm hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I want him, too. But, he’s on the run, you probably have a concussion and I’ll move faster alone.”
Bear’s lips disappeared in a line, the muscles in his jaw pulsing. “Fine. You stay in contact. I’ll track you through the Life360 app.”
They checked the app on Bear’s phone and made sure Jake showed on it. Jake had downloaded the GPS app to be able to find Halle and Maggie. Bet the app makers never envisioned it being used to track an ex-mob leg breaker chasing after an escaped murdering drug dealer and sex trafficker through the woods.
Bear gripped Jake’s hand. “Be careful, my brother. And take that fucker out.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t make the same mistake twice.”
Chapter Fifty-Five
Jake ran toward the river, the rippling sound growing louder and matching the background from Shane’s last radio transmission. It wasn’t a crowd Jake heard; it was the damn water.
He stopped at the water’s edge and called Klages. “You still have him?”
“Kind of. Not really.”
Jake’s eyes scanned the far shore. Nothing but moon-kissed shadows. Shane could be staring right back at him and Jake wouldn’t notice. “What the hell does that mean?”
“It means unless you have the superhuman ability to accelerate the weather and get the leaves to drop from the trees, I’m a little limited in my ability here. Last I saw, he ducked into the woods southeast of the bar. Caught a glimpse of him fifty yards in but haven’t seen him for a few minutes. You find Bear?”
“He’s fine. Will have a hell of a goose egg, but he’ll live. I’m going to find a way across. Shane won’t crash through the woods for long. He’s trying to find a way out, which means locating some wheels. Find some roads, houses, or anything else he might use to escape and keep me posted.”
Jake shoved his phone in his pocket and considered swimming across, but the water was cold as hell, and it was a long way. Instead, he spied the bridge two hundred yards in the distance and jogged toward it.
Where would he go if he stood in Shane’s shoes? Sadly, Jake wasn’t overly familiar with the territory on the other side of the river. These parts of Benton County were ripe with makeshift communities. Dilapidated houses and trailers springing up along makeshift roads. It was possible Shane could stumble upon some serviceable vehicle and escape. God help whoever got in his way. With Jake and Bear blowing up his operation, there wouldn’t be much poin
t in him staying in the area any longer. If he slipped away, Jake would spend his days looking over his shoulder and worrying about his girls. That couldn’t happen.
Jake reached the bridge and clambered up the soft, steep bank, using the thick, exposed tree roots to pull himself up. He resumed his jog along the pitted blacktop, wishing the county painted lines on the road guide him. On the other side of the bridge, oppressing darkness swallowed the moonlight as the trees formed an impenetrable canopy. Even with night vision on the drone, Klages would be lucky to see anything helpful if Shane stayed under the protective cover of limbs.
Fifty yards past the bridge, a dirt road split back to the east toward Forthview and The Asylum. Did Shane already reach this point and move on? Jake didn’t know if the road led back to the lakeside community or if it bent away from it. Should he follow the dirt or stay on the main road? Shane would want to keep moving and wouldn’t go back to Forthview, which he had to guess would be crawling with cops. And since Shane knew the cops were aware of his crossing the river, this first dirt road would likely be one they’d take. Jake rolled the dice and jogged up the main road again.
A half mile later, another road split off to the east, gravel instead of dirt, so it received some modicum of traffic. Jake wiped the thin layer of sweat from his brow and took a moment to slow his heartrate and listen. The overhead moon drizzled a faint, foggy glow on the road, giving it an eerie, horror-movie vibe. This road felt right, and Jake followed it, hoping he didn’t break an ankle. The gravel crunched under his feet, and he worried about giving his position away. A waft of manure floated through the air.
A hundred feet down the new path, his cell vibrated. Klages. “Got him. Moving east along a secondary road. Not the one past the river, but another one.”
Jake Caldwell Thrillers Page 102