EDGE OF HONOR: On The Edge Duet: Book One

by Chance, Jacob

  Wait a minute.

  Excitement jolts through me as I notice something I’ve been overlooking. The emergency room waiting area is filled with bikers.

  Maybe the bikers are what I've been missing. I was busy trying to get through the ER unnoticed and used their raucous behavior as a diversion.

  What if I wasn't the only one?

  The bikers from the ER are all from the same club, a small outlaw group known throughout the region as The Bastards. They're a rough looking bunch of shady characters, all dressed in the stereotypical leather and dungaree uniforms of every outlaw biker in history. By the looks of the video, they're bringing in one of their own for treatment; I'm guessing stitches from a bar fight.

  They're a bit rowdy, but overall well behaved for the first few minutes after they arrive. But somewhere along the way their behavior escalates.

  I watch the next twelve minute section of the security video at least sixteen times before I see them.

  Two bikers, twins, walk into the ER and join the group. One of them whispers to the other and they quickly separate. The first twin immediately cuts a path to what looks like the senior member of the club while the other walks up and begins taunting several of the officers who've gathered in the lobby.

  Within seconds, he's joined by the rest of the club members and they all begin shit-talking back and forth with the already agitated police.

  The twins meet back up and quickly retreat, exiting the ER and leaving their buddies to deal with the room full of angry cops.

  Interesting

  I'm embarrassed to suddenly catch a glimpse of myself in the far corner of the room. It's brief, and I made sure to pass swiftly, looking away to avoid being seen. But it's definitely me, disobeying orders and ninety seconds away from what very well may be a career defining fuck up.

  I stop the video, take a deep breath, rewind, and play it again. Yep, still embarrassing.

  What the hell was I thinking?

  The next few minutes of security footage stay the same. The bikers continue to taunt and challenge the cops, right up until the AWOL psych patient comes leaping into the frame and begins attacking the police.

  All of them.

  The bikers step back, pointing and laughing as the unruly patient gives the cops all they can handle.

  I play the footage a bit longer this time before rewinding. And that's when I see the twins again, or at least one of them. "Son of a…" I mumble to myself.

  My cell phone vibrates on the desk beside me. It's Nash.

  "Georgia." He doesn't wait for me to speak. "I'm just checking in, you got anything?"

  "Nothing solid but…" I hesitate.

  "Spit it out, Georgia," Nash pushes.

  "I'm not sure yet, but I've got some questions about the bikers."

  "From the ER?"

  "Yes. The Bastards MC. They're acting shady on some of this footage and I've got a feeling—”

  "Run with it," Nash cuts me off.

  "What's that now?" I can’t believe what I’m hearing.

  "I'm up to my ears in it over here at the hospital. This place is a three ring circus on a good day and today's much worse. I feel like I'm dealing with the Animaniacs on crack."

  "Sounds like fun."

  "If you have a gut feeling, you should run with it."

  "Are you sure?"

  "I'm sure. Just don't make me regret it, and keep me up to speed along the way, no excuses."

  "Got it." I hang up quickly before he changes his mind.

  It's time to start looking for anything and everything I can find about The Bastards.

  Chapter Eight

  Belfast

  "Here, take a few of these and you'll be good to go soon enough." Donny hands me a bottle of pain pills from the front seat. "Just keep it." He waves me off when I try to hand the bottle back. "You look like you need 'em more than me."

  “You’ll probably need this too.” He hands me a burner cell phone.

  “Thanks.”

  "Where to?" Danny asks from behind the wheel as we stop at the gate in front of the clubhouse.

  "Take me to Dot."

  "Dorchester it is, my friend." He smiles and stomps on the accelerator, narrowly missing a parked car as we pull away in the club's black cargo van.

  "You know, I've never seen anyone piss on Frost like that." Donny smiles.

  "I know, right. And walk away," Danny chimes in.

  "Fuck that, this motherfucker is being driven away." Donny laughs.

  "Like a goddamn celebrity, right," Danny continues.

  "Well, lads, as much as I'd love to toss the bullshit around about me and Frosty, I think we should probably talk about the company we've had since leaving the clubhouse."

  I point up to the rear view mirror, where I've been watching the car we almost hit following us from three cars back.

  "No. You sure?" Danny asks.

  "No. I don't think so," Donny agrees with his twin. And now they're both staring into the rear view mirror.

  "Trust me." I try to convince them.

  "Wait, I think I see something. Yep there it is, two cars back," Donny announces proudly.

  "Three cars," I correct him.

  "Yeah, three, that's what I meant."

  "Who the fuck is it?" Donny asks.

  "I have no fucking idea."

  "So, how do you want to handle it?" Danny instinctively starts to speed up. "Lose 'em?"

  "Hold up." I climb over the back seat to get a better look, grunting with pain. "I only see one man, in the driver's seat."

  "Ok. So what do you wanna do?"

  "I don't know yet." I climb back over to my seat and exhale to ease the agony. "But I can tell ya this, lads, I'm not the type to run from one man."

  We drive long enough for whoever's following us to close the distance.

  "Two cars between us," Danny calls out.

  "When it's one, hit the brakes."

  "What's the play?" Donny chambers a round in his pistol.

  "Sorry, boys, but this needs to be a one-to-one. The club can't be involved, and you know it."

  "One car," Danny announces. "You ready?"

  "Take this," Donny hands me his pistol. "And this." And then another one from the glovebox.

  I wink and smile. "I'm ready."

  Danny slams on the brakes, causing an immediate chain reaction of the same behind us.

  "Good luck."

  I jump out the side door and circle back around behind two parked cars as they slowly pull away.

  The car directly behind the van pulls forward, and now is my chance. I take a deep breath and step out in front of the second car with both guns pointed directly at the head of the driver. "Hands," I call out. "Let's see them."

  I can't see clearly through the glare on the windshield, but I can see that he doesn't move. I'm half expecting him to lurch forward and run me down when the driver's door suddenly pops open.

  "Put your hands up." Georgia comes bounding out of the car, pulling her gun as she shouts at me. "Right now."

  She seems angry.

  "Georgie?" She looks good, and I can't help but smile a bit. "What are you doing here?"

  "Put the guns down," she orders as she quickly advances.

  "Whoa now, slow down there, sweetheart." I reposition both guns I'm holding, so she understands.

  "Why did you do it?" She stops moving forward.

  "You're gonna have to be a little bit more specific, luv. It's been a busy couple of days."

  "Karyn." She spits back at me as she begins moving again. "Why Karyn?" She's keeping her distance but moving sideways now.

  "Wasn't me." I keep pace and we're now circling in the middle of the street with guns pointed at each other.

  This is all happening in front of several stunned and terrified motorists. I'm not sure how it's going to play out, but it won't last long.

  "Spare me." Her voice is filled with hatred. "And the hospital? I suppose that wasn't you either."

  "The h
ospital? No, that was me all right." Now she's pissing me off. "That was me saving your apparently ungrateful life."

  "Drop your gun." She stops moving and places her finger on the trigger.

  "Not gonna happen." I stop moving and place fingers on both triggers.

  That's when I see them.

  More than a dozen armed men are running through the traffic up the street toward us. They don't call out or offer any warning, they just start shooting.

  I duck and turn to take cover but see Georgia doing the opposite.

  "FBI. Hold your fire." She holds up her weapon and begins waving a badge in the air.

  They don't stop running, or shooting.

  "They don't give a shit," I shout as I scoop her up and drag her behind a row of parked cars. "Are you hit?"

  "No. Let me go," she shouts. "Who the hell are they?"

  A barrage of gunfire impacts directly along the opposite side of the cars we're hiding behind, sending shards of glass, metal, and plastic raining down on top of us.

  "Jesus Christ." Georgia is furious. "We need to make a move." And she looks ready.

  "We need to push them back and give ourselves a fucking chance." I wait for a break in their onslaught, and when it comes, I pop out from behind the cars, firing at the first two men I see. Both are dead before they hit the ground and the rest react immediately, taking cover behind cars and returning fire.

  "They're everywhere." Georgia slips by me, crouching low and firing as she crosses the street and drops two more of them with leg shots.

  "Stop fucking around and put 'em down goddamn it." I push her out of the way as one of them hobbles back up and takes aim at her. I shut him down for good with a single shot to the head.

  "We need a way out." She drops an empty magazine on the street and reloads, firing again the moment a round hits the chamber.

  "Cover me." I empty both magazines and turn back up the street toward Georgia's car. By the time I reach it, she's taken out three more.

  I drop the car in reverse and gun it, swerving between the stopped cars in the road until I'm between her and them. Bullets explode through the rear windshield as I keep the pedal pegged to the floor, finally running over the four gunmen at the front of the pack.

  I stop the car, drop it back in drive, punch the gas pedal back into the floorboard, and run two of them over again as I pull away.

  "Get in." I slow down long enough for Georgia to jump in, emptying an entire magazine at our attackers as she slams the door shut.

  "Go, go, go." She drops the clip, loads another, and hangs out the window, clearing another magazine as I punch the accelerator.

  The streets are narrow and the traffic is barely moving at a crawl all around us. Despite Georgia's impressive shooting, they're closing fast, even on foot.

  "Get us out of here." She pops back inside the window to reload.

  "There's open road ahead but it's gonna be close." I hit the gas and begin pushing the car in front of us out of the way.

  "Watch out." Georgia jumps back inside the car and screams.

  Out of the corner of my eye I see a vehicle on the right coming directly at us, fast. There's no time to react, just brace.

  It turns at the last moment before impact, slamming the car in front of us broadside and driving it up off the road and onto the sidewalk.

  "Go." Georgia points to the opening now in front of us. “Go, go.”

  We're two blocks away when I see the van in the rear view mirror. It was the twins driving. They must've stayed close by and decided to help. They've backed up off the car they hit and are now blocking the entire road behind us.

  Georgia drops back into her seat and takes a long, slow, deep breath and then turns to me. "Friends of yours?” She sees me looking back at the van and wreckage behind us.

  “Who’s that now?” I don’t have time to explain the twins at this moment. I’m focused on getting us as far away as possible, as fast as possible.

  Which is why I didn’t notice Georgia’s body language, or the tone in her voice, until she points her gun at my head again. “Pull this car over—now.”

  “No.”

  “What do you mean no?” She inches the gun a little closer to my temple. “Pull over.”

  “No.”

  “I’m not playing.” She narrows her eyes and lowers her voice.

  “I can tell.”

  Nearly half a minute of silence passes with me driving and her pointing a gun at my head.

  “Well?” Georgia sounds frustrated.

  “Well what?”

  “Are you going to pull over?” She’s losing her patience. I can hear it in her voice. I can also hear her grip flexing on the gun she’s still pointing at my head. Things are about to get ugly if I can’t keep her talking.

  “I’m a little busy right now, you know, trying to get away from the men shooting at us. You do remember them, right?”

  “Pull this car over. I’ll call in the cavalry and we’ll all be just fine.” She’s adamant.

  “Georgia, listen to me for a goddamn second. I need to get us out of here.”

  “You need to pay for what you’ve done.” She doesn’t even flinch.

  “Could you be a bit more specific, luv?”

  “Don’t call me that.” She’s only distracted for a heartbeat, turning her head away at the sound of my voice. But it’s all the time I need.

  I quickly cut the wheel hard left and then back right, crossing over the median and straight toward oncoming traffic.

  Georgia braces herself against the dashboard and the gun is momentarily pointing away from my temple.

  My fingers close around the taser I noticed tucked in the driver’s side door. Angry and focused on me, she never saw me reach down and grab it.

  I pull the trigger and send fifty thousand volts pulsing through her body.

  “You so-s-s-sonofaaaaa….” Her body spasms and contorts, leaving her unable to even hold the gun any longer.

  The first pulse lasts about five seconds and her body spasms stop. She slumps back, shaking in her seat and then immediately tries to reach for her gun on the floor. So I pull the trigger again.

  “Motherrrrrr... Ffffffuckrrr…”

  “Sorry, luv.” This time I hold in the trigger until she passes out.

  Chapter Nine

  Georgia

  “Garrison, you know who this is, right?” Belfast speaks into my cell phone.

  “I do.” I hear Nash’s faint voice on the other end of the line.

  “Well, then, you’re gonna need to listen closely.”

  “You son of a bitch,” Nash interrupts. “You’re going to pay for what you’ve done.” His voice raises, his anger coming through clearly.

  “So I keep hearing. Now listen, I don’t have a lot of time to waste.”

  “What game are you playing? How did you get this phone? Where’s Agent Cohn?” he cuts Belfast off again.

  “Oh for Christ’s sake, shut up. I’m here with our girl right now and she’s gonna need you to come pick her up.”

  “If you’ve hurt her...” Again I clearly hear Nash on the phone threatening him.

  “Relax. She’s fine, she’s fine.” He laughs. “Tough as nails this one.”

  “I want to speak to her,” Nash demands.

  “Oh, she’s busy pretending to sleep at the moment, but by now I’m sure you’ve traced her line so you know right where to find her.”

  Belfast hangs up without another word and tosses the phone to the floor at my feet.

  “C’mon now, luv. We only have a moment or three before your friends come and save you.”

  He tilts his head and smirks as I blink my eyes open and try to figure out the strange taste in my mouth. “Burnt metal right?” he asks.

  “No,” I disagree, but he’s right. It’s a burning, metallic taste and it’s horrible.

  “Good. Try this.” He gently raises a bottle of water up to my lips.

  My throat is so dry I can’t resist.
r />   “There ya go, slowly now. You can have it all, now that I know you don’t have the burnt metal taste in your mouth.”

  I stop swallowing.

  “Ya see, it’s the fillings. People with fillings in their teeth get a burnt metal taste in their mouths after being tased because of the way the metal conducts the electric charge.”

  The water begins to run out of the corners of my mouth.

  “And if you add water to the mix, well… A good friend of mine drank a cup, damn near blew all his teeth out.”

  I immediately shoot straight up in my seat and spit a mouthful of water onto the dashboard.

  “Relax, Georgie.” He laughs. “I wanted to make sure you could move if you have to.”

  This fucking guy.

  “So you heard me talking to your boy, and you know they’ll be here to collect you soon enough.”

  “You’re a dead man.” I struggle against the binds he’s placed around my ankles and wrists.

  “Don’t bother. I’ll be long gone before you can get those off, and I need you to listen.” He reaches over and calmly lays his hand over mine.

  Something about the feel of his skin on mine is almost soothing, and I hate that my first instinct is to comply.

  “I need you to stay out of this.”

  “You’re kidding.” I must be hearing things. “That’s it? That’s the best you’ve got? You need me to stay out of this. You’re going to have to do a lot better than that.”

  “I can’t do what needs to get done if you keep getting in the way.” His tone is completely sincere. This guy must be a frigging sociopath.

  “What needs to get done? What else are you planning? Killing Karyn wasn’t enough for you, you bastard?” I struggle against my restraints and kick at him from my seat.

  “C’mon, Georgie, you don’t really believe that, do you?” Again he seems so sincere. “Your mum had a stick up her arse for sure, but you know I had a soft spot for her.”

  “Stop calling me Georgie. And don’t you call her that either. None of your jokes or bullshit charm are going to change what you’ve done.” I’m furious at this point and I know I must be beet red. I can feel the angry flush heating my cheeks. “You Irish piece of shit.”