Chapter 11 Judge #2
Glancing behind my back, I hope to see any signs of Ripper, but he’s a lost cause, slipping away without a word.
I’m going to be livid if any of these assholes die before I can get my hands on them.
Returning my attention forward, I watch as he limits the space between them. She doesn’t shoot.
She curls her lip at Trouble, displeased to see him. He doesn’t seem to mind. He holds his hand toward her, curling his fingers.
“You look terrible.” Her voice trembles. “You’re supposed to be dead.”
“Yet, here I am. Back at this hellhole.” He scowls and takes the gun from her when she doesn’t hand it over. He pulls the magazine out, cracking a smile as he takes it in. “The least they could’ve done is give you ammunition to protect yourself with. Now, where’s the boss?”
Baring her teeth at him, it’s clear she’s not a threat. Refusing to give him an answer, she flinches when he slaps his hand against the wall above her head, easily towering over her. Her mouth pinches shut when he leans in.
“Don’t make us start breaking stuff. We both know how much you love this tech.” He motions to the server rack, its flashing lights fluttering and blinking back. “Just tell us where he’s at. You’ve been watching, haven’t you?”
She doesn’t have time to answer, not while she’s flinching at Ripper’s arrival when he returns to us, grimacing at the blood clinging to his clothes.
“None of it is mine.” Claiming it proudly, he looks my way. “So, bad news.”
One thing at a time. My teeth grind as my impatience grows thin. “It can wait. Trouble, the cameras.”
Ripper lifts his hands, his mouth opening, but clamping it shut when I give him a look.
Trouble is happy to tuck the gun in his waistband before guiding her back to her computer. “Hex, we need to see the feeds. We’re on a limited time.”
She scowls. “Fuck you.” Enunciating the words, she screeches when one of her monitors takes a bullet from my gun.
“The cameras,” I repeat, this time seething. “Where is he?”
“He’ll kill you,” Trouble promises, causing her to swallow. “It would be a terrible waste of talent if he had to.”
Hex shakes, with either fear or rage. I can’t tell. She coasts toward her monitors and jabs into her keyboard before two of her screens fill with camera feeds.
“Fuck.” Moving toward her, I stare at what has to be at least thirty feeds. “What in the hell are you watching over?”
Makes me wonder if I need a few more cameras installed in mine.
Trouble pulls out zip ties, much to Hex’s dismay. He straps her to her chair. “The bastard is crazy. Thinks everyone is out to get him.”
“You really think a few of you are going to be able to take us down?” She forces out a laugh before flinching under Trouble’s frown. “The only reason he hasn’t attacked is because you aren’t a threat. You’re—”
“Hex.” He squeezes her shoulder. “Stop talking.”
Approaching her, I kneel so I’m at her eye level. Staring at her, there’s no denying the way she squirms. “Are you the one who got him those names? The ones that found their way on a list in my clubhouse?”
Her brows pinch together, her lips pinching together before she jerks her eyes away.
“How did you do it? How did you find them?” My jaw clenches, and I try to keep my anger under control.
I need to know whether I’ll have to worry about others finding out about Pen and Raven. If the cops even get a whiff of them, they’ll take them to prison. They’ll try to.
“If I kill you right now, I won’t have to worry about them getting found again, will I?” My mouth curves, and she flinches.
“Your systems were really easy to get into, okay?” Her breathing quickens as she shakes her head.
“Facial recognition is a thing. All I needed was a screenshot of your feeds.” Her words start flowing in a blur.
“But hey, I can give a couple of tips to whoever runs your security. I can’t do that if I’m dead. ”
She’s shaking in her seat. Guess it’s easier for her to be stronger hiding behind a screen.
“That’s the only thing keeping you alive then.” Moving to stand, the pain of a headache pulses behind my eyes.
Returning to Ripper, I realize he’s still patiently waiting. “Okay. What’s the bad news?”
It can’t possibly be worse than all the information I already have going into this.
He throws a thumb behind him. “Warden got shot.” He motions at his shirt. “He’s a squirter.”
Shoving him out of the way, I leave the room to find our road captain clutching at his thigh on the other side. “What the fuck.”
“Can barely feel it.” Warden hisses low, shaking his head. “How the hell do you guys repeatedly eat bullets? This is hell.”
“Live through it, and you’ll join the club,” Ripper encourages as I pass by him. “Women find scars sexy, trust me.”
I don’t have it in me to tell him that he’s an idiot.
Searching the hacker’s room, I hunt down a cord that won’t take out her systems. Not knowing a damn thing what I’m looking for, Trouble helps me out by ripping out one of the HDMI cords from the broken monitor. Winning a few more points, I return to Warden.
“This is going to hurt.” Jerking my chin at Ripper, he helps me wrap his thigh before we pull tight enough to make him cry out. The makeshift tourniquet will have to do for now. “Does she know your blood type?”
Warden curses and shakes his head. “Don’t tell Leah.”
“That’s not what I asked.” Yanking on the cord tighter to double check it’s good, I repeat my question.
“Fuck, yeah. She’s got everyone’s written down.” He grimaces, jerking his chin to look away. “We found their VP. Diesel knocked him out. God, there were so many of them. Ripper—”
“Saved your ass. You’re welcome.” He pulls out his phone, already typing away a message back to the clubhouse. “Diesel’s arms are bleeding, but he’s still going.”
“Smoke did his disappearing act and Kansas—” He groans and pinches his eyes shut, the blood loss getting to him. “I don’t think anyone is dead. The prospects deserve a patch after this.”
Grabbing Warden, he curses as I drag him into the room. Settling him against the wall, I check him for his gun. It’s empty.
“Don’t pass out or die.” Handing him my gun, I jerk my chin toward Hex. “If she does anything suspicious, shoot her.”
Her squeak alone tells me that she’ll behave.
“What about you?” He grimaces as he shifts.
“I’ll be fine.” Turning toward Trouble, I shove the lie to the back of my mind. “You see any of ours?”
He stares at the feeds before shrugging. “Seems like it.. Even better, they’ve captured a handful of them. Some of them follow orders.”
“And Blaze? Tell me he didn’t run.”
Warden lets out a laugh that turns into a groan. “Kansas took out their bikes. They’re not running anywhere unless it’s on foot.”
Trouble frowns at the screens. “There are rooms missing. Where are the cameras?”
Hex jerks her chin. “You know him as well as I do. You think he’d let me put surveillance where he sleeps?”
“Meaning he’s hiding, and we don’t know what to expect.” Shaking my head, I jerk my chin. “Take me there. We can take advantage of these grenades.”
Trouble hesitates, but he nods, following after me.
“Find Diesel and help him.” Meeting Ripper’s frown with one of my own, he doesn’t budge. “I’ll be fine. We’ve got people to return to. Don’t die.”
He hesitates before taking a step back. He frowns at Trouble but grits his jaw. Turning, he disappears in the direction of the chaos.
Relieved that he’s actually listening to me this time, I give Warden one last look before letting Trouble lead.
* * *
The Crimson Road clubhouse is too fucking big. Makes mine feel laughable. The vaulted ceilings and polished concrete floors echo with every step, a monument to a king’s ego. When I take over, this place is going to be wonderful.
It’s a shame how much work it’s going to need before we can call it ours. Right now, it just feels like a tomb.
Trouble pulls the pin on the grenade in his grip and rolls it toward a door he says we don’t want to open ourselves. “From the man himself,” he mutters.
The explosion is a contained, brutal whump that shakes the very foundations of the room. Plaster dust snows from the ceiling. For ten seconds, possibly twenty, all I can hear are my very thoughts and the pounding of my heart. A familiar, unwelcome tinnitus.
Before the debris can even settle, a shower of bullets comes flying out from the opening.
Something automatic. The blast of the weapon is deafening, chewing up the wall where we could’ve been standing.
Can’t be too surprised that he’s got illegal weapons.
Yeah, definitely not a door we wanted to open.
“You’re a fucking coward, Blaze.” Calling out toward the opening once silence fills the air, I can’t help but let out a laugh. It’s a dry, harsh sound. “Guess that hasn’t changed in the eight years since our last conversation.”
A part of me hopes his pride consumes him, dragging him out of his hiding spot. I need to see his face. I need to look the bastard in the eye.
“I don’t have a gun on me, Blaze. Let’s chat. Man to man. If not, I’m happy to return these grenades to you in person. We can end this conversation with a bang.”
Silence. Then, a shuffling sound. A figure emerges from the smoke-hazed doorway, and for a moment, my brain refuses to reconcile the image.
This is not the man from my nightmares.
The Blaze I remember was a titan. Broad-shouldered, with a cold, commanding presence and eyes that held the promise of violence. This man is… shrunken. His skin has a sallow, greasy sheen, and his eyes are wide, darting things, swimming in a sea of paranoid white.
What the fuck?
He’s twitchy, his fingers plucking at the seams of his own cut. He’s dipped deep into his own product, a man eroded by fear and chemicals. No wonder no one could’ve recognized him after stepping into the Steelwood clubhouse. It’s pathetic.
His gaze locks on me, and the confusion in his eyes sharpens into something else. Dread. Disbelief.