“It concerns me that the idea of mass murder excites you, Hatch.” Rogue raised an eyebrow.
“There’s not a man in the Bellazi clan or in The Jackals that don’t deserve what’s coming. Scum-sucking demons, the whole fucking bunch of them.”
“They probably think the same about us,” Rogue said.
“Couldn’t give a shit. We’ll be doing the planet a favor by putting them in the ground. They’ll make good fertilizer ‘cause they’re already rotten to the core.”
Rogue couldn’t disagree. There were some people the world was better off without. The Bellazis ran guns and narcotics that ended up in the hands of anyone prepared to pay the price and The Jackals were a bunch of drug-fueled biker psychopaths intent on destroying everything in their path. His ethics didn’t extend to giving a rat’s ass about any of them. He ran his fingers across the paintwork on the fuel tank of his bike.
“Every fucking time we ride out this gets more pitted.” He sighed.
Hatch gave him an understanding nod. “Now that’s something I can sympathize with.”
“Rogue!”
Rogue turned as Crow sprinted toward him, Shelton hard on his heels.
His stomach knotted. “Orlando. Where is he?”
“Not here,” Crow panted.
“Why the fuck not, Shelton?” Rogue demanded.
Crow put his arm protectively around Shelton’s shoulders and tucked him into his side.
Rogue bit back his frustration. “Just tell me.”
“I was working on the computer, checking the news sites for anything at all on Arno Bellazi, that kind of thing. Orlando asked if it was okay to take out the trash and if he could sit outside for a few minutes. I never thought he’d…” Shelton’s shoulders shook. “I thought it would be okay. Just for a while…but I didn’t realize what the time was. I didn’t even notice he hadn’t come back inside until about five minutes before you got back. I checked everywhere inside. He isn’t there.”
Rogue kicked at a loose rock and sent it flying. “Fuck. Is anything missing?”
“A cool bag. I can’t tell if he packed food or water.” Shelton drew a shaky deep breath. “I’m really sorry, Rogue. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have let him go outside on his own.”
Rogue wanted to hit something, but he settled for spitting into the dirt. “It’s not your fault, Shelton. Stubborn, mule-headed brat. If he got a plan into his head he would have got around you one way or another. Question is, where the hell has he gotten? Is there any sign he was taken?”
“None of the security sensors were tripped. I was about to get on the radio to Teddy…”
“You do that. Hatch, take a look around. See if there’s any indication that we’ve had unwelcome visitors. Crow and I will take the dirt bikes out and start searching. We’ll need radios with us. If the little idiot decided to take a stroll into the desert then anything could have happened. I’m sure he would have intended to be home before us. Something has prevented that. He could be hurt or just lost. We’re going to lose the sun shortly. Fuck, I’m going to tan that boy’s hide when I get my hands on him.”
“I’ll take a ride down the track.” Hatchet got back on the bike he’d just parked and opened up the throttle.
Shelton ran toward the door and Crow followed him.
“I’ll get the radios and some supplies,” Crow shouted.
He returned in less than two minutes, swinging two small backpacks. “Food, water, first-aid supplies and radios. Reckon Orlando would have kept away from the tracks and the road, so if we set off from the rear of the property in different directions, that’s probably our best bet.”
“Agreed.” Rogue shrugged on one of the bags then headed to the rear of the shelter where five identical dirt bikes were lined up.
The KTM Enduro 300s were expensive toys for The Wyverns, but letting off steam by ripping up the desert had probably saved a few lives over the years. Better to beat up dirt than drinkers at the nearest bar. The machine gave a throaty chuckle as it came to life, sounding pleased to be awakened. Rogue walked the bike from the shelter and revved it.
“I’ll head south-west. You take south-east to the dry river bed.”
Crow nodded. “Shelton says Orlando was still wearing the same clothes when he last saw him. Blue should be easy enough to spot. Radio in every fifteen minutes.”
“Zigzag the route—we need to be sure we don’t miss anything and the terrain isn’t as flat as it seems. There are plenty of depressions and channels that he could have fallen into.”
There was nothing else to say. Rogue and Crow headed in different directions, riding much more slowly than they would normally. Rogue scanned the uneven terrain carefully, looking for any sign of blue. Behind him the sun sank toward the horizon, streaking the sky in blood red and fiery orange. Any tracks that Orlando might have left had long been scoured away by the wind, which gusted in unpredictable swirls, raising clouds of dust. Rogue paused and pulled the bandana around his neck into place over his nose and mouth. His eyes already felt gritty and dry.
“If he’s not dead, I’m going to kill the brat,” Rogue muttered into the wind as he set off again. “Slowly.”
It had been a long time since he’d cared about anybody. The Wyverns were his brothers in arms, and he loved them as such, but they could look after themselves. Orlando was feisty, but he was also vulnerable.
“My fucking job to look after him… Shit, the brat’s gotten too far under my skin. I must be getting soft.”
He was worried and he didn’t like the sensation of being out of control of the situation. The light was disappearing fast and there were any number of reasons for Orlando’s absence. For a brief moment, Rogue considered whether Orlando’s bastard of a father might have paid a visit and taken him, but he dismissed it. All Yoet de la Pena cared about was whether Orlando was likely to give up any of his secrets, and after his recent run-in with The Wyverns, he was probably licking his wounds somewhere. Rogue didn’t dismiss him completely because that would be stupid in the extreme, but if he had to guess, he’d say that Orlando had taken it into his stubborn head to wander off and had found more trouble than he’d bargained for. His sub was street smart—he wasn’t desert smart.
A flicker of movement caught Rogue’s eye. He stared hard but it was just a sidewinder wending its way across the sand. Rogue shivered. He wasn’t keen on snakes, not that he would ever admit that to anyone. If he did, he’d likely end up with one in his bed, knowing Hatchet’s sense of humor. His radio crackled into life, and he pressed the receive button, still riding one-handed and scanning the land.
“Rogue,” he snapped.
“Rogue, it’s Teddy. Heard about the brat. Any news?”
Rogue grunted. “No sign of him yet, what about you?”
“He’s not been anywhere near me but that’s no big surprise. The kid’s not stupid, he would have known to avoid the perimeter. But you should know, there are some signs of disturbance out on the north border. I found a couple of broken sensors and tire tracks. It’s windy so they have to be fresh.”
“How many?”
“I reckon three, maybe four riders. There’s not much else, though, they’ve been careful.”
“Fuck, that’s all we need. Get back to base and put the place in lockdown. Contact Crow and let him know the situation then get hold of Artie and Bull and tell them to get their asses back here. No stopping at some fucking watering hole. I want them stone cold sober. Hatch and Shelton should be inside already.”
“Sure, boss man, I’m heading in now. Keep us updated.”
The radio went silent. Rogue sighed—he had enough fucking problems dealing with Horatio Trap. Added complications were not what he needed. Abruptly, he jerked the bike to a halt and stared hard at a distant outcropping of rock. He could have sworn he’d seen a glint of the sun reflecting off something shiny. “Must have been my imagination,” he muttered, but then he saw it again. Just a slight flicker that seemed out of place. He turn
ed the radio back on.
“Rogue calling Crow.”
The response was almost instant.
“Crow here.”
“Think I might have spotted something. I’m heading out to Razor Rocks.”
“Want me to join you?”
“Yeah, think that might be a plan. Light’s nearly gone anyway so if this turns out to be nothing we’ll need to search together once it’s dark.”
“On my way.”
Rogue gunned the bike and a spray of sand and grit fanned from his back wheel. He followed a direct line toward the rocks, riding as fast as he dared on the dangerous terrain. The few minutes that it took him to get to the rocks seemed interminable. He caught a couple more tiny flashes of light and prayed that his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him. There was so much dust in the air that it was hard to tell. A couple of times he narrowly avoided sliding the bike into rocky crevasses where the dry earth had cracked deep.
As the last of the sun dipped below the horizon behind him, the rock face lit up in eerie shades of flickering blood red. The light set them ablaze, mocking the elements.
“Earth, wind and fire.” Rogue pushed his bandana down. “Not my kind of music.”
He edged the bike along the front of the rocks, skirting bigger boulders and checking out every crack. The ominous sound of a rattle froze him in his tracks.
“Snakes. I hate fucking snakes.”
Out of the corner of his eye he caught movement as one of the biggest diamondbacks he’d ever seen slithered along the base of the cliff then disappeared in to a crack. Rogue sucked in a shaky breath.
“That fucker must have been at least seven feet long.”
The gun in the back of his waistband pressed against his spine and he was tempted to take it out. He wouldn’t shoot an animal unless he really had to, but he might make an exception if the huge snake made a reappearance.
A low moan, followed by a sob met Rogue’s ears.
“Orlando?” Rogue repeated the name a couple of times but got no response. “Where are you? I swear, brat, if you don’t answer me in the next ten seconds I’m gonna whip your ass so hard you won’t sit for a week.”
A groan had him off the bike and searching the next few yards of rock face. He found a narrow crack just big enough to squeeze through. It was almost dark, little light reached in to the spot, but there was a faint glimmer as it reflected from something shiny. “Sequins!” Rogue spotted Orlando, stretched out on the ground.
“Fuck! Orlando… Are you hurt?” He touched Orlando’s shoulder and his lover’s eyes snapped open.
“Rogue! Careful… There was a snake…a big one. Bit me.” Orlando sobbed.
A chill ran the length of Rogue’s spine. “How long ago?” He checked Orlando’s body, looking for the bite.
“Don’t know…forty-five minutes, maybe an hour. Hurts.”
“I’m sure it does.” Rogue found the bite near Orlando’s ankle. The double puncture wound was ragged and inflamed. “He got you good. What kind of snake?”
“Rattler.”
Orlando drew a sharp breath as Rogue poked at the wound.
“What kind?”
“How the hell should I know? Big, mean one.”
“I saw one just now… Big diamondback, it was probably him. They can be really aggressive and they’re permanently pissed off.”
“Bit like you, then.” Orlando snickered, but the laugh turned into another sob.
Rogue rolled his eyes even though Orlando wouldn’t be able to see.
“Am I going to die?” Orlando snuffled.
“Not if I can help it,” Rogue replied gruffly. “Rattlesnake bites are rarely fatal in humans, even idiotic ones like you. However, I do need to get you treated. We keep anti-venom back at base, and Shelton, needless to say, can give you chapter and verse on every species of snake on the planet.” He stood up. “Keep as still as you can. Crow’s on his way and I need to let him know where we are. He won’t be able to see shit now the light’s gone.”
Rogue squeezed back out from the crevasse. He righted his bike from where it had fallen and turned it so that the headlight pointed out across the desert, then turned it on. In a couple of minutes, he heard the sound of another dirt bike making its way toward him and soon Crow arrived. He put his feet on the ground and held his bike in place.
“Is he here?” Crow asked.
“He is. He’s been bitten—big diamondback so watch yourself, it’s still around here somewhere.”
“Fuck. We need to get him back to Shelton.”
“He’s done the right thing so far, he’s kept still and he’s sitting up so his heart is above the bite, which is near his ankle. There’s some pain, a little swelling that I can see…”
“What the hell was he doing out here?”
“Haven’t asked,” Rogue said. “You take my bag—I’ll have to ride back slow to avoid jolting him around. You head home first and get things ready. Shelton can do his thing and then we’ll take him to the clinic in Phoenix. Get Teddy to make up a bed in the truck.”
Crow grabbed Rogue’s pack. He rummaged inside and pulled out the first-aid kit, then handed Rogue a crepe bandage. “No tourniquet, but use this to put gentle pressure on his lower leg. It helps slow the spread of venom.” He tossed the bandage to Rogue. “Be careful. Everything’ll be ready for him.” Crow clapped Rogue on the shoulder. “He’ll be fine, he’s a tough little shit.”
Rogue wasn’t so sure but he didn’t want to tempt fate and put voice to his fears. He’d told Orlando the truth when he’d said that bites were not often fatal to humans, but if Orlando had been injected with a big dose of venom, his slight frame would not help. Without treatment, he could be in trouble. Rogue blanked the dark thoughts from his mind. He wheeled his bike into a position where the headlight’s beam could reach through the break in the rock. His shadow grew huge, black on gray, as he edged through the gap and knelt beside Orlando.
“Hey, brat. How ya doing?”
Orlando’s skin was pale and clammy. He took short, shallow breaths.
“Leg’s burning. Don’t feel so good.”
Rogue brushed damp strands of dark hair away from Orlando’s pretty face.
“I wish there was more I could do, but all that crap you see on TV about cutting into the wound and sucking out the venom is just that, crap. It’ll make things worse. We have anti-venom back at base.”
“Are you gonna stick me?” Orlando’s eyes widened. “Don’t like needles.”
“You’ll like the alternative worse. Don’t be a baby. And Shelton will do it, he’s best at patching people up.”
“Has he done it before?”
“Several times,” Rogue lied with a confidence he didn’t feel. He knew it was vital that Orlando kept calm and that his heart rate didn’t accelerate. “But first I’m gonna wrap your leg up nice and tight.” He unrolled the bandage then wound it round Orlando’s lower leg, keeping the pressure firm but not too tight.
“Ow! My leg’s gonna fall off, I know it is.” Orlando cried.
Rogue shook his head and didn’t bother to respond. He pulled off Orlando’s shoes and stashed them in the cool bag that he found next to Orlando’s feet.
“Now, for once you need to listen to me and do exactly as you’re told. The first aid I’ve given you is a start but it’s not enough. I need to get you back to base as quickly as possible so Shelton can give you a dose of the good stuff. It’s not ideal, but you’re going to have to ride pillion. I’ll take it slow so you don’t get thrown around too much, but you must keep calm.”
Orlando nodded, looking scared.
“Everything’s going to be fine. In a few days you’ll be back to your usual pain-in-the-ass self and I’ll be back to fucking you into the mattress.”
Orlando giggled. “Might not let you.”
“Well, as your wanderlust ass will be chained down for the foreseeable future, I can’t see as you’ll have much choice,” Rogue said, and with that, he helped Orlan
do to his feet and held him steady. “Move your injured leg as little as possible. I’d carry you, but the gap in the rock is too narrow for both of us to get through at the same time.”
Orlando’s silence gave Rogue a clue as to just how much pain he was experiencing. He took as much of Orlando’s weight as he could and together they inched along. At the narrowest point, Rogue had to let Orlando go it alone and he only managed it by shuffling along with his back to the rock.
Shit, he’s gonna get scraped to hell.
Rogue stuck his arm between Orlando’s back and the unyielding rock, protecting him and sustaining a few deep scratches for his trouble. It was worth it. Marring the pristine skin of Orlando’s back was for him alone.
The bike wasn’t designed for passengers and Orlando was weak and shaky. Rogue decided that instead of putting Orlando behind him, seating him in front would work better. He could hold him in place more easily and still control the bike. Once he had Orlando settled, he moved off at a slow but steady pace. The desert was eerie but beautiful in its own unique way. It wasn’t a perfectly clear night, but the scattering of stars gleamed bright and cast a thousand shadows. Every rock and spiky plant took on a new shape as Rogue guided the bike around obstacles and through channels that hadn’t existed a few hours earlier.
“I just wanted to get some air. Feel free for a while.” In the still of the night, Orlando’s soft voice carried even above the noise of the bike. “There’s no wind now, but earlier it was warm and breezy. I went too far, though, and my feet hurt. I found some shade and sat down for a nap. When I woke up there was this big, coiled, rattling… Urgh.”
Rogue held Orlando tight and let him talk.
“I didn’t move. I didn’t do anything that might annoy it, but it bit me anyway.”
“It probably objected to your T-shirt,” Rogue said dryly.
Orlando tried to elbow him but he was too weak to make much of a jab. Rogue grinned. Orlando had spirit and he was going to need it to help his body fight off the effects of the toxins in his bloodstream.
He eased the bike down the final slope to the shelter next to the entrance of The Wyverns HQ. Light spilled from the open doorway where Shelton hovered with an anxious look on his face. Teddy pushed past him, and while Rogue was parking up, Teddy scooped Orlando from the bike and carried him inside. Rogue followed quickly and observed as Teddy laid Orlando down on a mattress that had been placed on the floor in the living room, close to the circle of sofas. He propped him up on a pile of pillows so that his upper body was elevated above the bite.
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