Chapter 18 #2
“You found his address, right?” I murmured to Dallas. We’d decided going to his place might be too risky, too much of a chance he had cameras and other shit, but I was ready to try it. Anger sizzled through me as we watched King lean closer to the old man. “He forgot why we’re here.”
“He’s fishing for info,” Dallas muttered softly in my direction. He was covering King’s ass, but what good would it do me to say that?
I rolled my eyes. “How about I go and see what I can see while he goes fishing?”
Will scowled at me, but Dallas only shrugged. I passed Dallas my truck keys, and he stuffed his hand in King’s jeans pocket.
“Hellooo, Sweetness. A little to the left.” King grinned at him until Dallas handed me the bike key. He sat up ramrod straight. “What’s going on?”
“PD needs to run an errand. But we can stay.” Dallas knocked his elbow against King’s side. “You know. That errand we talked about earlier.”
“I’ll come along,” Will said, moving to get up from his stool.
“Your ribs hurt. You’ve been touching them. I—Do you mind if I go by myself?” I tried my best to look pathetic so he wouldn’t start a fight.
Will’s bottom lip stuck out and slayed me. All those filthy thoughts from earlier paraded through my brain, but that was why I wanted to go do this in the first place.
“What if I say I do mind?” he asked.
“Then, you come along.” I shrugged.
He relaxed back onto his stool. “King would be outnumbered if I left.”
Grinning, I glanced around. The cops had mostly gone back to minding their business, probably because one of their own had been so happy to see King and welcome him in.
I pressed a quick kiss to Will’s lips, and they were a soft trap that teased me into lingering. “Meet you at the clubhouse in an hour.”
He nodded but watched me as I walked toward the door. I knew because I kept glancing back.
“Hey,” King called as I had a hand on the door. “Not a single scratch on that bike.”
I raised my hand in acknowledgement as I pushed outside into the cool night air.
The stars overhead were bright without a cloud blocking a single one.
The weather on the lake turned on a dime, and I was glad it had cleared up.
Once I was on King’s baby with her rumbling between my thighs, I checked the address again. Dallas had sent it to our group chat.
Surprisingly, it wasn’t far from King’s cozy place along the lake.
I tucked my phone away and eased the bike out of the parking lot, then onto the street.
The night wind perked me up and cleared my head some.
I would need to hide the bike and walk in, so I rode past the small lakeside house, a white cottage, sucking in a breath when I spotted five motorcycles out front.
I definitely wouldn’t be knocking on the door.
No one seemed to be home two houses down, so I parked the bike and walked back. I snapped pics of the bikes and license plates and sent them to Dallas.
Viper
Thumbs-up.
The idiot actually wrote thumbs-up. I chuckled and rolled my eyes. He had to know how to text. He had a weird sense of humor.
Frowning, I noticed shiny flakes glinting on the ground around the bikes.
The light over the garage made me nervous, but I manned up and walked over, keeping an ear out for trouble.
Red, blue, and gold metallic chunks sparkled like confetti on the cement driveway.
For half a second, I was convinced that it was the leftovers from a celebration. I bent and picked a piece up.
“What the hell?” I tilted my head. It wasn’t that foil stuff or paper that came in those poppers for New Year’s. The shiny material resembled paint chips. I rubbed a chunk between my fingers and it flaked apart.
Yeah, paint all right.
If Will were here, he might even know what kind.
“What the double fuck?” I bit my bottom lip, then groaned when I noticed a few pieces of paint hanging on the bikes here and there. I snapped photos of the bikes and the paint on the ground, sent them to Dallas, and then stuffed a few chunks into my pocket.
Viper
***
PD
Paint. They coated the bikes with paint. It was probably supposed to degrade. Wash off. They disguised the bikes.
Viper
Send me a pin of your location. Make sure it updates automatically. Do it now.
I hesitated, but in the end, did as he asked. This was a horrible idea. If the Kings could track me, maybe the cops could get the info later, but what else could I do?
I was starting to feel impressed with the motorcycle cops. This heist was bullshit worthy of King.
The front door opened.
Panic made my balls try to hide in my body.
I shot around the side of the cottage and almost tripped into a metal bike trailer.
My heart lived in my throat while the men laughed.
I couldn’t hear what they’d said. I eased up to peek around the corner of the house and growled under my breath as they loaded paper bags into their saddle bags.
Was it cash?
Nah. They had way more cash than that. But maybe it was some of the cash. What the hell had they done with Uhlig’s money?
There was nothing to do but wait for them to take off, and then I ran for King’s bike. I got the Harley started up and on the road. Excitement surged inside me and I whooped when I spotted a taillight in the distance. I was flying.
I hadn’t lost them. But I also didn’t want to crowd them, so I hung back. It would be for the best if they didn’t notice me.
What would we do when we caught them? Dallas said we couldn’t kill them. He was right. That would bring too much heat. But we could blackmail the fuck out of them.
King and Commissioner Johnston had it out for each other.
Maybe this would give King an advantage in their battle royale.
Unease settled into me as we rode away from the city, those cold stars twinkling overhead.
I was beginning to think I should turn off, even if it meant losing them, when they stopped in the distance in front of me.
“Shit.” My pulse thundered in my ears as I braked.
Two shots rang out.
Pain seared through my right leg. It was all one big fiery ball of agony inducing heat, but I didn’t doubt both bullets were lodged in my fucking body.
“Fuckers. I rode into a trap.” I didn’t look down, just ditched King’s pristine Harley on the road, moaning at the sound of his side mirror smashing, and hopped, dragging my leg that was screaming pain along behind me.
There was a fence surrounding a field to my left, but before I could reach it, the bikes swarmed in my direction.
I was hauling myself over the fence when someone grabbed my cut and pulled. I fell to the ground and yelled as my fucked-up leg hit the dirt.
The pain made my vision spotty. My head was getting fuzzy. Through the fury that had me seeing red, I caught sight of blood streaming from two bullet holes.
I must be losing a bucket of blood, but I couldn’t exactly do anything about it.
Six guys flipped up the visors on their black full helmets, and I yelped when one of them kicked my shot-up leg.
The lance of pain made my lungs squeeze out like a sponge.
I couldn’t make a sound. I grabbed my leg and caught a boot to the side, but that was nothing compared to the acid washing through the nerve endings in my leg.
“Do you know what happened to Hooker and Lawrence?” one guy growled out. “They were chasing piece of shit bikers.”
Will was going to kill me if these guys didn’t. I forced a smile. “I heard they were driving like assholes on a foggy night. Sounds like self-inflicted stupidity. Darwin’s law.”
An engine speeding along in the distance had a few of the guys looking back to where they’d parked their bikes on the road.
Headlights crested a small rise. A truck—my fucking Ford—plowed into all the bikes, sending them flying like toys and crunching in the grille.
I swore I saw Will wave as he passed us, then the truck came to a screeching halt.
“What the fuck?” one of the cops screamed. Maybe it was our buddy Marty, the thief.
“You can use some of that dirty fucking money to buy a new bike.” I laughed, then puked, and the world got hazy.
Yeah, Will was gonna kill me.