Chapter 22 #2
When Rivera rings the bell, for a second, nothing happens. Then a shadow moves behind the curtain. Rivera shifts the bag into his left hand, readying himself for anything. Everything about this feels like an ordinary delivery.
The door opens a few inches, then a little wider. A woman who is likely his aunt appears. She’s older than I expected, with gray hair pulled back into a bun at the nape of her neck. She’s wearing a sunny yellow sweater twin set paired with pearls. Her eyes go straight to the bag in Rivera’s hands.
“Yes?” she asks.
Rivera lifts the bag slightly. “Food delivery. For Charlie.”
Her brow creases. “Charlie?” She turns her head and calls back into the house. “Charlie, your food is here.”
I see the silhouette of a man move across the front window.
Unless I miss my guess, that shadowed figure is Brennan.
He comes into view behind her. He looks past the bag to Rivera, who is tall, muscular, and tattooed.
I can see the moment it clicks in his brain that Rivera looks more like a biker than a food delivery driver.
Brennan’s expression morphs into one of alarm and rage.
His hand dives into his pocket and comes back with a knife that he snaps open. In an act of desperation, he makes a grab for the only shield within his reach—his gray-haired aunt.
Shit!
I take off running at full speed to the house, watching it all unfold in real time.
Thankfully, Rivera’s lightning fast. He tosses the food bag away and grabs his aunt by the shoulders, pulling her forward just as Brennan makes a grab for her with his free hand.
She gasps in shock and then lets out a blood-curdling scream as Rivera pivots and shoves her into Mica’s waiting hands.
He forces her back, away from the front door, and I practically collide with them in my mad dash to get through the front door.
I’m aware of Mica guiding her off the porch and away from the house. She’s still shouting Brennan’s name and telling Mica to get his hands off her because she doesn’t know her nephew pulled out a knife and tried to grab her. That all happened behind her back.
I surge forward, entering the foyer with Rivera just over the threshold, just in time to see Brennan backing up with his knife held high and eyes wild.
“Calm the fuck down. Throw the knife aside and get down on your stomach. It’s the only way you’re getting out of this without me running you down and beating the shit outta you like last time.”
“Get back or I’ll cut you in places that matter.”
Rivera takes a step closer. “Look, asshole, you can’t run forever. The law’s gonna catch up with you.”
“Fuck that. I’m not going to jail for something I didn’t do,” he bites out.
Taking another step back, he pulls over a side table, turns, and runs. I chase after him, stumbling over the table in my haste. I can hear him crashing through the house, the back of the house, jerking over more furniture in an attempt to trip us up. This fucker is getting on my last nerve.
“He’s heading out the back door,” Slate’s voice crackles through the comm.
I realize all too late that he’s pulled over the refrigerator before slipping out the door.
Rivera and I take turns jumping and diving out the door one after another.
I see him running through the yard towards one of the cars.
The house feels suddenly too small, too quiet, the aunt screaming for the neighbors to call the police because strangers are breaking into her house and attacking her nephew.
The neighbors are starting to migrate out of their houses, and that complicates things.
Amidst the chaos, Brennan reaches his car first. He slips inside and the engine turns over on the first try. He’s spitting gravel as he tears out of the driveway and cuts hard towards the alley. By the time I hit the yard, he’s already disappearing between fences.
“Vehicles,” I say, already moving. The others don’t hesitate. Within minutes we’re loaded back into the two vehicles we arrived in and the hunt is on.
We hit the alley just in time to see Brennan fishtail onto the street.
He doesn’t slow down for anything. Instead, he cuts corners too tight, clips a curb, and speeds right through a stop sign without even tapping the brakes.
He knows the area better than we do and that puts us at a disadvantage.
He slides onto side streets, doing his best to shake us before anyone notices what’s happening.
“Don’t let him get to the main road,” I say through the comm.
“I won’t,” Jinx answers tightly from the other vehicle.
Brennan looks back once, just long enough to see that we’re still in hot pursuit.
That’s when he swerves hard, trying to force us off the road.
The impact glances off the side of the SUV.
A horrible metal-on-metal shriek draws attention from everyone who’s not already looking.
Mica fights the wheel to keep from careening off the road.
“Son of a bitch,” I mutter, bracing myself. “This fucker is apeshit crazy.”
Brennan tries again, clipping our rear quarter panel. I think to myself that he’s getting ever more desperate and reckless. But when I look over at him, Brennan gives me a feral grin, like he’s having the time of his life.
Mica doesn’t wait for a third attempt. He hits the brakes, drops back until we’re alongside Brennan’s back end, and bumps him just enough to break his control. The maneuver works perfectly. Brennan’s car spins, tires screaming, then slides off the road and drops nose-first into a ditch.
He tries to spin out by pushing the gas pedal, but his car is wedged into the ditch at an odd angle, and he can’t get any traction.
We jump out of our vehicles and rush his car.
Brennan, realizing he’s not going to spin his way out of the ditch, scrambles out of the car and tries to make a quick getaway.
I take great pleasure in running him the fuck down.
He doesn’t get more than about fifteen feet before I grab him by the back of his shirt and slam him face-first down into the dirt.
He fights like a cornered animal, twisting, kicking, clawing for space.
One quick fist to the face is all it takes to knock the fight right out of him.
Slate’s there now, grabbing his left arm. Mica comes up as I reach for his right arm, so we can immobilize and zip tie his mangy ass. I don’t see the knife flashing in Brennan’s hand until a moment too late, but I feel a sharp pain when it stabs into my arm.
I jerk my arm back and slam my fist into his face again because apparently, he didn’t get the message the first time. It takes a few more punches before he gets the message. Brennan is that special kind of stubborn. He spits blood as the knife drops from his hand onto the soft ground.
When Brennan lunges at me again, Slate slaps him down. “Enough, we’ve had about all of your assholery that we can stand for one night.”
Brennan keeps struggling until the bite of the zip ties Mica tightens into place starts to bite into his wrists. That’s when he finally understands the futility of fighting us. He’s out of breath, covered in mud, and his eyes dart around like he’s still looking for a way out.
I step back and press my hand over the wound on my arm. I can feel the warm blood oozing against my fingers. It hurts, but it’s shallow. I can’t believe the stupid fucker stabbed me, but I’ve had worse.
Mica’s nearby and already on the phone with Jasper. “We’ve got him. Call Morgan and tell him we got a present for him.”
We leave Brennan lying right there in the mud with his hands tied behind his back and blood seeping from his nose and mouth. We talk amongst ourselves as the adrenaline drains out of our systems and the sirens in the distance start to get closer.
Morgan arrives first, lights flashing and his siren going off. Uniformed officers are right behind him. He takes in the scene with one long look, then nods.
“You did good work. Time to fuck off and let the uniformed officers take over the scene.” My eyes narrow on him because Detective Morgan isn’t usually quite this dismissive of our efforts.
Mica gets it first and answers smoothly, “Sorry about this unfortunate auto accident. It was low visibility because of the rain, and he came out of nowhere.”
I honestly don’t see how he’s going to pretend like we were never involved when God and the community saw us at the aunt’s house, and I don’t know how many passersby saw the car chase.
Then again, I can’t say I really care either.
The cold, hard fact is that if Cedar Falls PD doesn’t arrest us, then the prosecutor can’t press charges.
Less red tape for everyone involved, and all the attention is going to be focused on Morgan getting his man.
We hustle back to our vehicles and pull out because no one has to ask me twice. As far as I’m concerned, this situation is good and done. I don’t care who gets the glory for taking Brennan down, as long as they manage to keep him behind bars this time.
Once we’re on the road, Mica looks over at me. “You’re bleeding all over my nice new SUV.”
“Fuck all the way off with that shit,” I tell him, feeling something between irritation and humor.
He grins at me and then his expression gets serious. “Bro, you do need stitches and that’s no joke.”
“Good thing we’ve got an outstanding club medic,” I respond, gripping the wound tighter.
I can hear Rivera on his cell phone quietly talking with Jasper about making sure Stitch is there when we arrive.
I relax back into my seat and enjoy the moment.
The asshole is back behind bars with enough evidence to make sure he never sees the light of day again, all courtesy of me and my club.
This is definitely a feel-good moment worth savoring.