by A Parker
“I need to borrow a ride,” I said as I strode down the porch steps.
Both women hurried after me as we made our way to the shop.
“Where does Grant keep the keys to the bikes he’s working on?” I shouldered open the side door to the shop and flicked on the lights. They buzzed overhead as they warmed up, and I surged ahead, weaving through the bikes, checking if keys were in ignitions. They weren’t.
“This is crazy,” Sam said.
I put my back to them, lifted the back of my T-shirt up, and showed them two pistols tucked into the back of my jeans. “I never really had any intention of staying here tonight. I shouldn’t have let Tex convince me to stay. For all I know, they’re already in over their heads. But I can help them. You’re going to have a baby, Samantha. A baby. Jackson needs to come home tonight. He needs to. If I can be another set of eyes on the ground to make sure that happens? Well, then I’m damn well going to make sure I’m there. Now tell me, where are the keys?”
Sam’s eyes glistened with tears. Suzie marched forward. For a moment, I thought she was going to let me have it, but she pulled a set of keys from her pocket and dropped them into my palm. She took me by the shoulders, spun me around, and pointed to a mean-looking bike sitting near the bay doors.
“You can take mine,” she said. “It was William’s. It’s fast as hell on straightaways, but it’s not built for cornering, so don’t go into them with too much speed.” She continued listing off things I should and shouldn’t do on the bike as she opened the bay doors.
I rolled the bike out onto the gravel. “Don’t worry. I’ve ridden enough to know what I’m doing. And hey, Sam?”
Sam looked up. Her arms were wrapped around herself and she looked pale.
“Your secret is safe with me,” I said.
She smiled thinly. “Be careful, Carrie.”
The engine of the motorcycle roared to life as Suzie pulled open the metal gate on the side of the house. I pulled out into the street, leaving the women staring after me. Wind whipped at my cheeks and the fear I’d felt on the deck blew away.
Now that I’d taken back control, fear had no place in my heart.
It was time to get shit done.
Chapter 35
Jameson
The landfill had three exits.
The first, that was set farthest back from the others, had a roundabout way of accessing it and it was for private business trucks that operated disposal businesses in Reno. The road was accessible from the far side of the landfill, so it required driving about three miles past the site, circling back, and accessing the road from the back.
Which was what I had to do while the others peeled off and took the second entrance.
The third entrance was the one we assumed Bates would use because it was the most direct.
Jackson had pulled me aside before we left Grant’s and let me know that he didn’t want me arriving with the others. He explained that I was supposed to be dead. The last person Bates would expect to roll up on him tonight would be me.
The dead guy.
The guy whose throat his own daughter pressed two fingers to and confirmed without a shadow of a doubt that he in fact had no pulse.
It almost made me smile to think of how surprised they’d all be to see me.
Almost.
I’d agreed to ride in on my own and hang back. Jackson wanted me to be the backup plan. If things didn’t go well, I was to be the guy lying in wait who might stand a chance of getting the upper hand.
With a little luck, our hands wouldn’t be forced.
The shadow of the landfill rose up in front of me and I killed my headlight so I could ride in dark. I didn’t want to give myself away. I dropped my speed and coasted. The bike rumbled but not too loud, and when I hit the gravel of the lot, I turned off the engine altogether and used my existing momentum to coast the rest of the way.
The stench was wretched.
I pulled over near some heavy machinery where I could hide in the inky shadows. To my right, a giant dune of garbage blocked out the night sky.
Carrie couldn’t have picked a better place that didn’t stink like the inside of a pig’s asshole?
I pushed my bike forward so the front tire hovered on the edge of shadow provided by the big excavator. I straddled the seat and leaned forward, draping my forearms over the handlebars. Out in front of me, the terrain sloped gradually, and several crossroads, all wide and rough and full of potholes, wove patterns between different dumping sites. It was all pretty spread out, and visibility wasn’t terrible, but there weren’t many places to hide.
I was about to poke out a little farther and see if I could get a better look when I heard someone coming.
Bikes rumbled in the distance, and I knew they weren’t those of the Devil’s Luck.
Less than a minute later, the scene before me suddenly filled with dozens of bikers. Dozens. I crept backward a little bit, seeking cover in the shadows, and held my breath as the bikes pulled U-turns in the middle of the crossroads and circled back, taking refuge right smack in front of me at the top of the rise.
It made sense. They wanted the advantage of higher ground, which was exactly why I’d picked this spot.
They killed their engines and headlights, and the night went quiet. I wanted to pull out my phone and send a message to Jackson. He needed the heads-up that the bastards were already here and they were lying in wait.
But the light of my phone might give me away. The closest man was a mere fifty or so feet from me, so I held fast, trusting Jackson would know what to do, and he’d have his eyes peeled.
Headlights swung around from behind me. I flinched and ducked down low, but they never landed on me. The large tires of the excavator and its low center of gravity kept me concealed in shadow as Caroline’s white Range Rover came in behind the gang of bikers.
I let out a shaky breath. And so it begins.
Caroline got out of her car. As per usual, she wore a sleek all-black outfit. For once however, she wasn’t wearing heels. She wore what looked like construction boots, probably in anticipation of the night’s meeting location, and she wove through the parked bikes while pulling on black gloves. Up at the front of the pack, she stopped beside the man in the lead and put her hand on his shoulder.
They exchanged words I couldn’t hear, and I silently thanked Miss Bates for revealing which of the pack was her father.
After that, nobody moved. The night went still. Somewhere not too far away, garbage rustled. A man on one of the bikes in the back twisted in his seat and cursed.
“Fucking rats.”
“Face forward,” the man beside him muttered. “The real rats are going to be here any minute. Focus, Sloan.”
Sloan, the guy who didn’t like rats, squinted into the dark place I was hidden. “Do you really think they’re gonna show tonight? They’d have to be fucked in the head to think they could make a stand here.”
The other rolled his shoulders. “Shut up, Sloan. Focus.”
Sloan never managed to sit still as the minutes ticked by. I knew Jackson and the others would arrive at any second, and I took the risk to pull out my phone. I used my jacket to conceal the illuminated screen and prayed like hell nobody happened to be looking in my direction while I texted.
Bates on high ground. He’ll be at your two o’clock. I’m behind them.
I dumped the phone into my pocket and worried what would happen if Jackson and the others never saw my message. Would they ride right into the nest of Wolverines?
I steeled my resolve. This was the fight we’d expected. This shit ends tonight.
I thought briefly of Carrie’s lips. I thought of her ass against my crotch, her soft giggle, and the way she rolled her eyes when I gave her a hard time, her anger and her sharp tongue and her grit. Soon I’d be back with her. Soon this would all be nothing but a memory.
Whispers rolled through the Wolverines up ahead.
I strained to peer through their bikes a
nd down at the crossroads, and I heard it too—tires rolling over gravel. Like me, the Devils had killed their engines and coasted the rest of the way in, hoping to make a silent and sneaky approach. But Bates already had eyes on them, and as I watched he held up an arm, silently ordering his men to hold. To wait.
To wait for what?
The man on the bike beside Bates shifted in his saddle, and it took me a minute to realize what was happening.
He had a gun. Something long range. I couldn’t make it out from where I sat, but my stomach leapt into my throat as he trained his sights on the bike in the lead.
On Jackson.
I knew immediately the man with the gun was Moss. Bates dropped his hand.
“Wait,” I breathed, but it was too late.
The shot split the night in half.
As soon as it went off, all the Wolverines’ bikes roared to life. Headlights flashed on and illuminated the crossroads down below. Everything happened in less than two seconds, and as the headlights lit up the scene, I watched in horror as Jackson went down. His bike slid a good ten feet across the gravel with him pinned under it.
Bates roared for his men to ride. Their bikes kicked up dust and gravel and surged forward down the slope.
Down below, Mason pulled up in front of Jackson, drew a gun from a holster strapped to his gas tank, and fired off six shots in rapid succession.
Four Wolverines went down.
More shots came from behind Mason, who dropped down behind the cover of his own bike and strained to haul Jackson’s up off him. He slid an arm under Jackson’s, dragged him to his feet, and helped him onto his bike.
A bullet sparked off the side of the bike.
Mason roared for Jackson to go, hopped on the back of the bike, and returned fire as the rest of the Devil’s Luck plunged into the fray.
Jackson told me to stay hidden unless I absolutely needed to move. I wasn’t sure if he’d consider this worthy of my involvement, but I didn’t care. I was getting fucking involved.
But I wasn’t going to waste my chance. I had the advantage of perfect cover and the element of surprise. If I just rode out there, I’d give away all my leverage.
So I drew my gun. Bates was within firing range, but I wasn’t nearly the good shot Carrie was. Dimly, I wished she was here, then thought wishing such a thing was batshit.
I closed one eye and trained my sights on the bastard who killed William and Tracy and damn well nearly killed Mason, too. Who’d nearly killed Jackson seconds ago. Who sent men to kill me and Carrie.
“Fucker,” I growled. And pulled the trigger.
The shot was swallowed up by the roar of motorcycle engines and other bullets being fired down below. But I knew I hit my mark because Bates jerked forward and let out a cry. Caroline, who stood behind him, whirled around, her white ponytail spinning around her head like a whip. Moss turned too, and he trained his gun right on the spot where I sat.
But he didn’t fire because he couldn’t fucking see me. So I took another shot as Bates doubled over on his bike.
Caroline started screaming orders. Moss fired a shot at the excavator. It bounced off the metal.
I fired back, and this time I knew I gave away my position. It didn’t matter, however, because I’d put a bullet in Moss’s thigh, and he dumped his bike with a cry of pain. His gun fell out of his hands and Caroline drew hers, spinning and trying to seek me out while her father bellowed at her to get him the hell out of there.
Moss struggled to get to his feet. Not so fast, I thought.
I turned on my bike. The headlight momentarily blinded Caroline, who shielded her eyes in the groove of her elbow. I seized my chance and opened the throttle, racing out from the cover of the shadows and closing the seventy or so feet between us in mere seconds. Caroline fired off a shot and missed. She panicked, dropped a shoulder, and dragged her father off his bike while screaming at Moss to take me down. Her voice was so shrill and panicked I could hear it over the roar of my engine.
I gritted my teeth and hunkered down low in the saddle while Moss got to his feet, slung the gun up, and fired.
Fuck.
My windshield shattered. Glass sprayed up into my face. He fired a second shot and the front tire blew. I went over the handlebars and landed hard in the gravel. It bit into my elbows as I landed on my back. My ribs screamed with agony.
Clutching at my side, I rolled onto my stomach. I took shallow breaths and forced myself up onto my hands and knees while Caroline screamed bloody murder that I was supposed to be dead.
Her fear made me grin, and I lifted my head and locked eyes with her.
“Maybe I am dead,” I hissed. “And you’re all next.”
Chapter 36
Carrie
Up ahead, shots rang out in the night. I picked up speed.
William’s bike was a steady, strong, not-smooth ride, and under any other circumstances, I might have enjoyed my time in the saddle. Tonight wasn’t for pleasure, though.
Tonight was for vengeance.
I took the first exit to the landfill and wove my way through the first couple of bends. The road was a few miles long and I couldn’t fly—the bike would make too much damn noise. I hadn’t ever been here before, but I’d mapped it while Tex slept in this morning. I knew the lazy pattern of unpaved roads winding through it, and I knew our three exit points. I also had a hunch I knew where Bates would position himself for a fight.
He’d want the most leverage, and he’d take the high ground.
So I came in through the back as the shots rang louder.
I prayed like hell Tex wasn’t doing anything stupid. He’d proven that he was willing to take whatever risks necessary to end this thing with Bates by literally dying last night for the sake of a plan. If push came to shove tonight, I knew he’d sacrifice himself for the others.
I pushed the thought down as soon as it rose up in my head.
Now was not the time to consider worst-case scenarios. We were already in the deep end. There’d be no turning back now. All that was left to do was put my big girl pants on and ride.
I was about to take the next right toward the rise of garbage blotting out the stars when I spotted flashing lights up ahead coming down the road from the other direction.
Red and blue lights.
Shit.
The whole point of coming out to the landfill was to avoid the cops. Had Bates called and tipped them off so he’d have even more backup? Had he planned the entire night around the squad cars being close by?
If the cops rolled into the landfill, Jackson and the others wouldn’t stand a chance.
They’d be killed. The police would warp the story to the media, who would report that it was a gang-related shooting and that the Devil’s Luck were no longer around to plague the city.
Someone had to stop them and I was the only someone in the vicinity who even knew they were coming.
I pulled out of my turn and opened up the throttle, speeding toward the flashing lights.
They were easy to close in on. Their headlights swung around a bend and I kept on riding straight toward them, splitting the lane. There were four cars in total. More than I wanted to contend with but not enough to give me reason to run.
I flashed my headlight, hunkered low beneath the windshield, and screamed toward them. The car in the front went hard on the brakes. The other cars slammed theirs, too. Tires shrieked on asphalt and I blew past the first squad car.
A cop in the passenger seat rolled the window down and took a shot at me.
He missed by a lot, and I wove between the back of their car and the front bumper of the next, pulling one of my guns out from my jeans and shooting out the two back tires and front tires, leaving two cars losing air. I swept around the second car as both of them turned around to give chase. Meanwhile, the back two cars pulled sideways across the road, attempting to block my path.
Two cops spilled out of the rear car, dropped to their knees, and drew their guns. I tucked mys
elf in even tighter, using the windshield for cover, and blew past them. Their shots went over my head. I peeled off down the street and came down hard on my brakes—a little too hard. The back tire lifted and I wobbled a bit.
Cursing myself, I got the bike back under control and swung it back around to face the cars.
I revved the engine.
I needed to lead them away.
As I watched and taunted them, they all piled back into their cars. One of them barked orders. They turned themselves around to come after me, except for one of the cars with the blown-out tires, which headed back in the opposite direction toward the landfill.
Unfortunately, I’d have to trust the Devils to handle that one.
In the meantime?
I would lead the three cruisers away from the landfill and handle things myself. It was the least I could do, and with this bike, I knew I’d be able to keep a decent enough lead on them that I wouldn’t have to stand on my own two feet and fight.
They could chase, I could ride, and Tex and the others could have more time.
The cars peeled toward me.
I grinned, spun my back tire, and launched forward, letting them follow at a far enough distance where they couldn’t pull anything on me. A cop yelled out the window for me to stop. His voice died on the wind. He fired three shots in rapid succession, but he had terrible aim. I made myself as small as possible in the saddle, kept my eyes on the road ahead, and remembered what Suzie said to me.
The bike was made for straightaways, not corners.
I’d have to make sure I had a good lead on the cars when I came into corners. I couldn’t risk them catching me. With their wider center of gravity, they wouldn’t risk tipping over. But me? If I dumped my bike in a corner, I’d be done for. There was no doubt in my mind if they caught me, they’d kill me. I knew too much about their corruption for them to let me survive to see a day in court and potentially expose them.
They’d put a bullet in my skull.
Hell, they might even bring my corpse to the landfill to show the MC.