Chapter 8
PD
I sprayed white chalk paint in as straight a line as I could manage across the slick black pavement.
The damp foggy air clung to my body and moisture even dripped off my eyelashes onto my cheeks.
The beam from the motorcycle headlight pointed in the direction of where we were hard at work was the only thing that really let me see what I was doing.
Barber hummed as he used black chalk paint to cover the yellow lines on the road that curved right. “This is a good night for a party.” He glanced over his shoulder in my direction. “What do you think?” His grin was contagious, but I shook my head.
“We’ll see how this goes, first.”
“If there’s a reason to party, we will,” King said.
His voice sounded odd in the night. Ahead of us there were red lights that he’d come out here earlier, during the daytime, to suspend from tree branches, and they were eerie bobbing in the slight wind, strange beacons of doom. This was a deadly curve, after all.
“The fog is unreal tonight,” I said.
“Yep.” King was busy painting yellow lines straight ahead to the end of the pavement, and Scar was using another paint sprayer to turn the silver guardrail a matte black that blended dangerously with the night.
When I was finished, I straightened and stretched out my lower back. There was a bounce in my step even though I was anxious about what we were doing. I secured the paint sprayer in my saddle bag and gave it a happy little pat.
All our bikes were lined up in a row against the steep embankment. They were as far to the right as we could get them without physically carrying them up the hill, not that we would be able to get them very far.
“Are you sure the cops won’t have a helicopter on their asses by the time they get out here?” Far from sounding upset about that, Barber did a weird dance, then practically skipped over to his bike to stow his paint sprayer.
King chuckled and put the finishing touches on the yellow lines he’d painted, which led to the disguised guardrails.
He twirled the paint sprayer like it was a gun, almost fumbled it, then saved it at the last minute.
“Fuuuuck no. They’re going to catch those shit-for-brains bastards as they’re leaving that cop bar, the Precinct.
They’re going to slide past their cruiser and use a baseball bat on the side windows.
You know, something to make sure they’ll chase them.
Any dickhead cop who would toss PD into a fucking trunk and take him for a joy ride will follow them to put a hurt on ’em.
They won’t call it in. They’ll want blood.
Make no mistake, they’re a fucking gang and they’ll act like they’re in one.
” King nodded solemnly, and a shiver slid down my spine.
I was lucky I hadn’t been seriously injured in that trunk.
The red lights in the trees bobbed, ruby drops suspended in midair. The fog billowed, and for a moment, a thick cloud passed between us and my stomach knotted.
“This is gonna be dangerous for us to get out of here.” Scar walked back from his bike and crossed his arms, scowling around. That was pretty much his MO, though, so I wasn’t too concerned. Hell, all these guys would take a bullet for me and the other way around, too.
Barber came over and stood in front of the beam from the motorcycle so that his shadow was a giant in the fog, and then he started boxing, turning left and right.
He grinned as he did it. Finally, he spun and smacked King on the shoulder, and King punched him in the gut.
Barber pinwheeled and landed on his ass, the smile still stuck on his face.
“See what happens when you set down the whiskey bottle, Prez? We haven’t gotten into any shit like this in way too long.” Barber stuck out his tongue at King, even as King grabbed his hand and hauled him to his feet.
“Fuck you, Barber.” King clapped him on the shoulder before turning around to stare off into the fog-shrouded darkness.
“Just sayin’.”
“Say something the fuck else.” King sounded mean now.
“You never know when to quit, dumbass.” Scar slapped Barber’s shoulder.
“What?”
“I’m checking the water tanks.” I stalked to the spot next to our bikes.
The tanks weren’t very big. They were shiny silver cylinders that reminded me of fire extinguishers, and they were full of highly pressurized water.
I wasn’t sure what I was checking for, exactly, except that they were right there, ready to be grabbed and used.
“It’s fine.” I spun on my heel and made my way back to King.
The anticipation of what was to come was starting to make my skin crawl.
All our phones went off, and when I checked, the message was a thumbs-up from Undertaker.
Bees buzzed around in my stomach and I couldn’t decide if I was excited or not.
I elbowed King.
He raised his salt-and-pepper eyebrows at me.
“Does this Bugs Bunny shit work?”
“It will.” He glanced over at my lines. “Shit, yours are straighter than mine.”
“I’d be embarrassed if they weren’t,” I snarked.
Everyone laughed, the sound too boisterous and vibrant. We were all on edge.
Static came across the walkie-talkie clipped to King’s belt, then, “No cars. It’s dead. Just what we need.” Dallas’s voice was haunting and the cold night seemed to close in on us as we waited. If this dragged on too long a car was bound to show up, even if this was an out of the way road.
“We can’t wait much longer,” Scar said, glancing down at the new lines we’d drawn.
“At least we’re being safe. Ish.” I smirked and flashed him a wink, but he only shook his head.
My phone vibrated and I dragged it out of my pocket again. I was still mad about having to buy a new one, thanks to Hooker and Lawrence.
Will
U can go to hell. Can’t fcking believe U left me here. U can go to the fcking house. Don’t care if U been here every night for 2 weeks, you can go sleep there. Don’t fcking want U and UR weak attempts at fcking me here.
Rolling my eyes, I shoved my phone into my pocket, but it just kept vibrating. I was sure the diatribe would make me want to bleach my brain to forget all the evil shit he’d said.
He didn’t really mean it.
I shifted nervously back and forth on my feet.
Well, I hoped he didn’t mean it, anyway.
King snorted and took out a cigarette, then tucked it behind his ear instead of lighting up. “He still pissed off?”
“What do you think?”
King only laughed, that loud, happy sound that made my own smile widen, even though I was one hundred percent stuck in the doghouse right now.
“You should’ve brought him,” Barber said, glancing between us with a tiny frown.
“Are you a dumb shit or what?” King shook his head. “On a clear blue sunny day he’s not too steady on that bike, plus I’m pretty sure they never gave him his license back.”
“They didn’t,” I mumbled.
“Well, shit.” Barber kicked the pavement before dragging out a lighter. “Want me to fire you up, Prez?” He nodded at the cigarette behind King’s ear.
“Nah, better not. Dallas doesn’t want me doing it, but we also don’t want any cigarette butts with saliva and fingerprints and whatever the fuck else here alongside the road.”
The walkie-talkie crackled to life. “The bikes passed me. I see the cruiser. You have one minute.” Dallas’s voice started counting down from sixty.
Goose bumps prickled on my arms and gave me a violent shiver. My heart raced and I sucked in a deep breath.
“This is what it’s all about,” Scar said, running past me. He smacked my shoulder. “Get the fuck over here.”
Bike engines roared in the distance, not too far away.
“Twenty-eight, twenty-seven.” Dallas’s calm voice kept counting down.
“Go! Get against that embankment. Get ready to kill that headlight!” Scar leaped to the bike with the light on and the rest of us scrambled a bit up the steep embankment.
The bike engines roared toward us.
“Shit, they’re coming too fast. What if they go over the edge?”
King grabbed my arm and held me in place at his side while we both dragged deep breaths into our lungs. “Timmy and Red can fuckin’ ride. They know the plan.”
The bikes slowed down and came around the sharp turn, slamming on their brakes.
Undertaker’s bike wobbled, and I wanted to laugh.
All his shit was fancy, and this old beat-up Harley must’ve come out of a junkyard.
He dragged it over near our bikes, and Red brought hers over as well, hustling just as fast as Undertaker.
“Kill it!” Red yelled. For a tiny redhead, she had a big voice.
Scar cut his light and both of theirs were already out. We heard an engine in the night, flying along behind them. The red lights bobbed in the trees, a dangerous lure.
“This is dastardly,” Undertaker said, then chuckled, a cold sound that had me shivering again.
We all held our breath.
“This won’t work,” I muttered.
“Have faith in a good plan,” Red said, and she sounded damned cheerful. We were all nuts.
“I can’t believe you agreed to do this,” I called over my shoulder toward her.
“Those cops deserve this and more. One of our girls had a run-in with them, and they’re—”
The cruiser whizzed past us, headlights blazing, and I staggered back a step at the screech of metal as it careened through the camouflaged guardrails and out into the dead space beyond.
The cruiser caught air. I almost thought it would fly up into the stars, but then it descended.
There was an unholy thud. The ground actually shook and the sound of a tree falling had us all scrambling back toward the embankment, but it must’ve gone the other direction, far away from us.
Those red lights swayed in the dark. Whichever tree went wasn’t the one they were dancing in.