Chapter 23 #3
Ash was proven right when Reaper leaned his extended arm against the tree to steady it, took careful aim, and with three quick shots…
All three upright Souls now peacefully rested next to their brother and were turned into road kill.
“Think the fourth one’s dead?”
Before Rage got an answer from Reaper, another shot rang out and the biker already on the ground when they arrived jerked and once again stilled.
“Damn,” Rage whispered. That was goddamn impressive. No wonder Vi hired him. Four Souls, four bullets.
With his eyes still glued to the outlaw bikers, Reaper held up a hand. “Give it a minute.”
Rage agreed. “Could be playin’ possum.”
Ghost both looked and sounded amused when he said, “Hard to play anything with a fucking hole bored through your brain.”
After a few more heartbeats, Reaper pulled his folded baseball cap from the back of his waistband and slapped it back onto his head. “All right. Should be good.”
“Not for them,” Rage muttered.
After hopping back on their sleds, they slowly approached the scene, carefully looking for any signs of movement.
Not even a twitch.
They pulled over and shut off their sleds.
“Thought snipers were best with long guns,” Rage said once they all dismounted again.
“We know how to shoot other shit.”
“Wouldn’t fuckin’ doubt that after seein’ you in action,” Rage told Reaper.
Rage nudged one of the dead Souls with his boot. Yeah, all had been turned into speed bumps. “Now we gotta clean up this fuckin’ mess and dispose of the sleds and Souls.”
Grim agreed. “Yeah, let’s get them out of the road first. Don’t need anyone coming along in the dark and hitting us, them, or their sleds. That’ll make for an awkward situation.”
“Bodies first since downed bikes are easier to explain,” Ghost suggested.
Each of them grabbed the ankles of a Soul and dragged their lifeless bodies off the pavement and into the woods where they wouldn’t be spotted so easily.
The only obvious issue was the blood trails left behind. Someone might think it was blood from a struck deer, but Rage wasn’t risking it.
He turned to Grim. “Call Hook, have him bring the rollback and somethin’ to wash away the blood. Stay here with the sleds and follow him back once he picks them up. You got coverage?”
Grim pulled out his cell phone and checked. “Nope.”
Fuck. No wonder Vi had lost contact with the women. At least they were able to get to an area with reception.
The thought of them being assaulted—or worse—in a dead zone where they couldn’t easily track them down showed him just how vulnerable they were when they left the DAMC’s patch.
They might have to consider a “lockdown” for any DAMC women and children until both the Russos and Souls were dealt with.
They would bitch and moan, but too fucking bad. It was for their own safety.
And his sanity.
“Gonna call Hook once we’re down the road and get him rollin’ as fast as possible,” Rage told Grim.
“Yeah, not sure I’m thrilled about standing out here in the dark with four dead Souls.”
“You skeered, Army boy?” Ghost joked.
“Fuck you. You know I’m not. Just hate having no way to communicate.”
“Ghost’s gonna stick with you,” Rage then announced. “Now you won’t be alone. You two can communicate with each other.”
“What? I—”
“You skeered?” Rage echoed.
Ghost’s chest puffed out. “Fuck no.”
“Good.”
Grim asked, “Brother, where do you want the sleds taken?”
“Anywhere they ain’t ever gonna be found.”
“Heard the Kings of Anarchy have a chop shop. Maybe they’d want them.”
Rage raised an eyebrow. “Think it’s smart haulin’ them halfway ‘cross the fuckin’ state?”
Grim chuckled. “No, but they could come pick them up.”
“Ain’t relyin’ on those fuckers to do shit. Gotta make sure those sleds ain’t found. Don’t involve more people than necessary.”
“Heard,” Grim said. He jerked his chin toward the pile of Souls. “What about those motherfuckers?”
“The fish in the quarry are gonna be eatin’ pretty damn good tonight.”
“Heard that, too.”
“Soon that fucking place is going to have an island of skeletons rising out of the water,” Ghost said.
Rage slid a hand over his braids. “Yeah, gotta find another solution.”
“How many more bodies you planning on dumping out there?” Reaper’s slight Southern accent made a rare appearance.
“Depends how many more assholes decide to fuck with us.”
“An alternative would be good, then,” Reaper agreed.
“Talked about buyin’ or buildin’ a pet crematorium like the Fury’s got, but don’t got the funds now due to startin’ the dispensary. Maybe down the road when the pot shop’s bringin’ in some good scratch.”
Reaper whacked him on the back. “I’ll sit down with the boss lady and see if we can come up with any other options in the meantime.”
Rage liked that the man didn’t judge, he simply accepted the circumstances.
Collecting dead bodies? No problem. Let’s come up with a solution to hide them better.
Rage studied him. Being a Shadow wasn’t just a job for Reaper. The Marine vet was into it. His loyalty to the DAMC had to be due to Vi, otherwise, why would he give a shit?
“That’d be good,” Rage grumbled. “All right. Let’s fuckin’ roll. Got one more stop to make.”