Chapter 15 #2
A dark pickup shot out of Quarry Cut before the truck reached the intersection and swung broadside across both lanes. At the same moment, a black SUV accelerated from behind, closing fast enough to trap the cargo between the two vehicles.
The driver braked hard but kept the truck straight, stopping with room between his grille and the pickup rather than jackknifing toward the shoulder. The pickup’s driver door flew open before the tires stopped smoking, while the man behind the SUV’s wheel leaned through his window with a pistol.
“Move,” I ordered into the comm as I twisted the throttle.
The Black Crowns closed from every direction.
Trigger surged along the driver’s side of the Bellamy truck and planted his bike near the cab, covering the driver while Wraith cut around the front and boxed the pickup against the shoulder.
Hawkeye drove the rear truck straight at the SUV, clipping its back quarter hard enough to spin it partly across the road before Smoke and Breach bailed out with weapons drawn.
A man came out of the pickup with a pistol aimed toward the Bellamy cab.
I drove onto the gravel, dropped my bike under control, and reached him before he fired.
My hand closed around his wrist, slammed it into the steel door, and ripped the weapon away while my other fist buried itself beneath his ribs.
“Down, asshole,” I growled.
The man folded, then came up with a knife from beneath his jacket and enough speed to prove he had used one before.
The blade flashed and sliced across the top of my shoulder before I trapped his forearm.
The hot sting sharpened the world without slowing anything down, and I slammed my forehead into his face before twisting until something in his wrist gave, then threw him against the damaged front corner of the pickup.
He staggered backward when I released him, but he still had enough fight left to lunge again.
The attacker hit the damaged front quarter panel and kicked away, using the impact to wrench himself loose.
He grabbed my shirt and tried to throw me into the road, but his leverage failed when I drove an elbow across his jaw.
We struck the pickup together, and a jagged strip of metal peeled from the crumpled fender opened my side beneath the ribs.
Pain burned across my skin and soaked warmth under my shirt.
I ignored it, caught the man by the back of his neck, and introduced his face to the hood hard enough to take the fight out of him.
He sagged against the metal, and Trigger reached us in time to wrench both arms behind his back.
The zip tie bit around his wrists while Wraith cleared the pickup and confirmed there was no second man hiding inside.
Behind me, gunfire cracked from the SUV as its driver rammed a club truck blocking the road.
Smoke returned two shots into the dirt beside its front tire, forcing the driver to duck, while Breach reached for the door.
The bastard slammed into reverse before Breach could drag him out, rammed the truck again, then punched through a rotten fence and dropped onto a rough ranch track with the rear bumper hanging loose.
Two bikes started after him, but I looked toward the Bellamy truck, the armed man near the cab, and the cargo we had used to bring the crew into reach.
“Let him go,” I directed over the comm, watching the vehicle disappear down the access lane. “Nomad, mark the vehicle. We hold this scene.”
The escaping SUV vanished in a cloud of dust with one taillight broken and the rear panel hanging loose.
We had the plate, damage, direction, and enough brothers in the area to start tracking once the shipment and our people were secure.
Chasing one man while leaving controlled material exposed would have been anger making decisions.
“Road’s locked,” Smoke reported from behind us.
“Rear approach too,” Breach added, kicking the attacker’s dropped magazine away from the SUV’s tire marks. “Fucker shot wide and ran.”
“Hawkeye, check the Bellamy driver,” I ordered, putting one knee between the prisoner’s shoulders. “Smoke and Breach, hold both ends of the road. Wraith, inspect the truck and seals.”
The driver had clipped his temple against the cab frame when he braked, but Hawkeye confirmed his pupils were even and his answers made sense.
Wraith checked the cargo doors, then gave me a nod when every seal remained intact.
The shipment had not been breached, and every Black Crown on the road checked in without a serious injury.
Only after the route and cargo were controlled did the blood at my side become impossible to ignore. It had soaked through the black fabric and started dripping from the hem, while the cut across my shoulder pulled every time I moved my arm.
Hawkeye looked at the dark stain and gave me a flat stare. “You’re leaking all over Bellamy’s fucking truck.”
“Truck’ll wash,” I grunted, rolling my shoulder once with a grimace.
Smoke came up beside him and glanced at the wound. “You planning to mention that?”
“Eventually,” I replied.
“Tamsin’s gonna chew your ass off.” His mouth curved as he glanced toward the phone clipped to my belt.
“Search him before I break something you need,” I warned, nodding toward the man restrained beside the pickup. He had information we needed, and pain had already made him less confident than he had been five minutes earlier.
Trigger emptied the attacker’s pockets onto the pickup’s hood.
A cheap burner phone landed beside a key stamped with a unit number, followed by two folded route sheets.
One showed the approved Bellamy transfer; the second marked the unauthorized turn onto Quarry Cut and a secluded stop farther south.
“Dumb fuck brought the whole invitation,” Trigger snarled, opening the second page.
Wraith took the phone and route sheets while Breach hauled the prisoner upright.
The last messages on the burner matched the dispatch change and warned that the truck had extra eyes, but nothing named the person inside Bellamy feeding them information.
The key and route gave us another location, and the bleeding man between Trigger and Breach would tell us what it opened before the day ended.
I stepped far enough from him that Tamsin would not hear anything useful in the background, then called her.
She answered before the first full ring finished, and the breath she drew told me she had been staring at the phone and waiting.
I leaned one hand against the Bellamy truck while warmth continued spreading beneath my shirt.
“Are you hurt?” she demanded before I could speak.
“Scratched,” I answered, glancing down at the blood dripping near my belt.
“How badly?”