Chapter Seven
PRESSURE POINT
The stop-and-go gas glowed against the storm like the only warm place left in Oregon.
Whip pulled the task force SUV beneath the canopy.
Axel glanced at the fuel gauge. “We’re still half full.”
Whip shifted into park and killed the engine. “Need to top it off.”
Axel snorted and leaned his head back against the seat. “You were definitely a Boy Scout.”
Whip looked over slowly. “Special Forces, remember?”
Axel glanced down toward his own dark ink disappearing beneath the sleeve of his jacket before snorting softly. “Yeah. You and every other paranoid psychopath with a go-bag.”
“Takes one to know one.”
Rain pounded hard against the canopy overhead while both of them stared out through the windshield at the deluge flooding the parking lot.
“Who’s pumping?” Axel finally asked.
Whip rolled his eyes. “Baby.”
“Am not.”
Axel grabbed his wallet anyway. He didn’t like the rain, so sue him. Getting soaked had been a lot more fun when he was eighteen and stupid.
Age was a rip-off.
Both doors opened at the same time.
Cold rain and wet wind slammed into him immediately. The gas station canopy only blocked about half the storm.
Whip headed toward the pumps while Axel shoved his wallet into his back pocket and started toward the stop-and-go entrance.
“We don’t need snacks,” Whip called after him from beside the SUV.
Axel yanked the door open anyway. “Yeah, I’m not holing up in a motel with you without snacks.”
The weather alone justified chips. He preferred actual food while Whip could survive on gas-station jerky and stubbornness.
Poor bastard.
Whip barked a laugh from somewhere behind him.
“Tell me how you really feel, Bain.”
The door chimed overhead as Axel stepped inside.
Warm air and fryer grease hit him immediately. It was a tiny place, buzzing overhead fluorescent lights, and old coffee sitting on burners behind the counter.
Better than standing outside getting drowned.
Axel grabbed two bags of chips off the rack without really looking at them, then added bottled water and beef jerky from a rotating display near the register.
Country music crackled softly through blown speakers somewhere near the beer coolers.
He glanced out the large window.
Whip still stood beside the SUV with one hand shoved into his jacket pocket while he held the pump in his other hand.
Relaxed posture.
Easy.
Like he wasn’t carrying a Glock beneath his jacket and enough combat training to ruin somebody’s life in under ten seconds.
Most people never saw it.
Their mistake.
The clerk started ringing up the snacks.
“That’ll be eighteen dollars.”
Axel reached for his wallet automatically.
Then his gut clenched.
A man in a camouflage jacket walked up to Whip.
Saying something.
Too close already.
He didn’t like that.
The guy wasn’t standing like somebody asking for directions.
Whip answered without moving an inch.
Another man appeared near the diesel pumps.
Then a third.
“Fuck,” he muttered.
Not random. Not friendly. Three on one wasn’t a conversation.
He recognized one of them.
Mark Stiner, who decided he would step up and jab a finger into Whip’s chest.
Whip said something back.
Didn’t step away.
Didn’t posture either.
That wasn’t a good sign.
“That’ll be eighteen dollars, sir.”
Axel ignored the clerk.
“Be right back.”
The guy blinked. “Uh—”
He shoved the door open hard enough to rattle the glass.
Stiner suddenly swung, and Whip moved immediately.
Fast enough, the punch barely clipped his jaw before Whip caught the guy’s wrist and drove him face-first into the side of the SUV hard enough to rock the suspension.
The other two men surged forward.
And Axel moved across the parking lot like a fucking missile.
Axel reached them at full speed, drove one fucker straight into the pavement and had his Glock jammed beneath the second guy’s chin before either of them fully understood what had happened.
One boot planted between the first man’s shoulders kept him pinned hard against the soaked concrete.
Stiner had picked the wrong guy to fuck with.
“You good?” Axel growled.
“Yup.”
Whip twisted Stiner’s arms behind his back, cuffed him, then shoved him against the SUV hard enough to rattle the door.
Axel finally got a good look at Stiner. The asshole looked like absolute shit after his stint upstate.
“I told you before, Stiner. Keep your hands to yourself.”
Whip kept him pinned against the SUV.
“Now you’re looking at assaulting a federal officer.”
“Fuck you, Tauber!” Stiner snarled through bloody teeth. “You got no right. She’s my wife.”
“Ex-wife now, from what I hear,” Axel said, gesturing with the Ruger toward the guy frozen beneath the barrel. “You wanna leave or join him?”
“No, sir,” the man gulped, staring hard at the badge hanging around Axel’s neck.
“Then collect your buddy and get the fuck out of here.”
Axel stepped back just enough to let him move and removed his boot from the guy on the ground.
The man grabbed his groggy friend from the concrete and hauled him away just as flashing blue lights exploded across the parking lot.
Two sheriff’s cruisers tore into the gas station lot.
Tires hissed through standing water.
The two men barely made it ten feet before deputies swarmed them.
Axel shrugged once. “Oh well. Gave ’em a chance.”
He crossed back toward the SUV and hauled Stiner away from Whip by the front of his soaked jacket.
“You have to be one of the stupidest motherfuckers alive,” Axel snapped. “What exactly did you think this was gonna accomplish?”
“Fuck you too, Bain!”
Two deputies walked over through the rain.
“Whip,” one greeted.
“Chase.” Whip nodded once and jerked his chin toward Stiner. “Assaulting a federal officer.”
“Jesus Christ, Stiner,” Chase muttered. “I told you to keep your nose clean.”
“Yeah,” Stiner spat.
The second deputy stepped in and hauled him away from Axel before things escalated again.
“How long you boys in town?” Chase asked, stepping closer to Whip beneath the rain.
“He’s not staying long,” Axel growled, edging closer.
Not quite stepping between them.
Close enough to be in the way, though.
That’d do.
Whip elbowed him lightly in the ribs. He grunted and crossed his arms, not budging.
Chase’s mouth twitched like he was trying not to laugh.
“You got here fast,” Whip said.
“Clerk called and said somebody was taking swings at Marshals.” Chase glanced between them. “Heard you were after Cutter. Figured it had to be you two.”
“Fair.”
Rainwater dripped off the brim of Chase’s hat while blue lights strobed across the wet parking lot behind him.
“Appreciate it,” Whip said.
“No problem.” Chase’s smile came easy. “How’s life treating you?”
“Can’t complain. How’s your mom?” Whip asked.
“She’s still baking those cherry pies.”
Whip rubbed a hand over his stomach. “Man. Those things are dangerous.”
They laughed together.
Pie? Axel snorted.
Chase wasn’t even saying anything funny.
Whip seemed to think he was.
Axel’s jaw tightened so hard it hurt.
He shoved between both of them and headed for the SUV through the rain.
Whip tossed him a look, but Axel stared straight ahead while water dripped off the hood beneath the station lights.
Chase chuckled with open amusement.
Axel slammed the car door a little too hard, but so the fuck what.
The thunk of the door muffled Chase’s laugh, leaving only the rain hammering the roof.
He stared at them through the rain-soaked window.
Several long minutes later, Whip finally climbed behind the wheel.
“Where’s your snacks?”
“On the counter.”
“Want me to go back in?”
“No.”
Whip started the engine and pulled out of the station heading to the highway.
Silence settled through the SUV except for the wet tires and the steady slap of the windshield wipers.
“What do you think of Chase?” Whip asked.
Axel’s head snapped around immediately. “He’s not your type.”
Whip’s eyebrows lifted. “How can you be so sure?”
“Because I don’t like him.”
Whip’s soft chuckle filled the SUV.
Shit.