Chapter Fifty
Rick
Ahalf dozen government SUVs pulled in with lights and sirens blaring twenty-five minutes later.
The passenger door of the first SUV opened, and his boss, Scott, stepped out in a white T-shirt and a blue FBI vest. His salt-and-pepper hair was cut short, and as he crossed the lawn to meet Rick, he held out his hand, grinning.
“You’ve done amazing work here, Agent.”
Rick took his hand and pumped it enthusiastically. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you. I thought you wouldn’t get here.”
“I took a flight to Idaho Falls and caught a ride with them.”
“I’m glad. I feel like this is a win we all needed to see.”
“Agreed. Seems like you got this thing all locked in,” he said, sweeping his other hand out, indicating the rows of bikers practically hog-tied across the snowy grass. “We’d better get them out of the cold and into the vans before they start complaining about cruel and unusual punishment.”
“I’ll be happy when they’re being transported out of town and away from the civilians.
” Rick nodded toward their vehicles, which were still parked in the square.
“They showed up with some heavy artillery, so that—on top of racketeering and the other charges—will keep them tied up for a bit. I bet the DEA would love a piece of them.”
“They probably would, but this is our bust.” Scott whistled at an agent lingering by one of the SUVs. “Hey, bring some blankets over here.”
The man nodded.
“I just didn’t want to drag them into the church only to haul them back out when you got here. Especially since we can’t get the stink bomb smell out.”
Scott chuckled. “Stink bomb, huh?”
“Yes, sir. I’m glad I don’t have the job of airing the place out.”
“Pretty ingenious,” Scott murmured, his expression admiring. “You came up with this plan?”
“The whole town contributed nonlethal strategies to take them down. Stink bombs, paintball guns, and we even had a tranq gun in case things took a turn. I was honestly surprised at how smoothly it went.”
“Hey now,” Scott admonished him, wincing. “Don’t you know not to jinx yourself?”
Rick chuckled. “Unless you have a bomb attached to one of your vans and the bad guys have another swarm of men coming in, I think we’re good.”
More transport vehicles pulled in, and the agents started gathering up the prisoners. They cut the ties on the Vipers’ feet so that they could walk them to the vans, and Rick was proud to see agents shaking hands with civilians and the small-town cops of Holiday, thanking them for their service.
Suddenly, a red Mustang pulled into an empty space in front of the inn, and three men exited the vehicle. Rick and Scott turned toward them, watching them stop and stare with wide-eyed fixation.
“What the fuck is going on?” the tall man with brown hair asked.
“Damn it, Pike, what have you gotten us into?” griped the one in the ball cap, punching the shortest of the trio.
“I thought it could be a fun stop! It says there’s a giant potato statue they decorate—”
“And an FBI sting operation?” Ball Cap countered.
The brown-haired man shook his head. “This is something out of The Hangover. I bet there’s a tiger in the closet when we get to the room.”
“What do you want me to do?” Pike asked, throwing his hands in the air. “I already booked the room.”
“Gentlemen,” Rick called out, and all three spun his way. “Either go inside or get the fuck out of here. These are all dangerous men, and the last thing we need is one of them escaping and killing you for your car.”
“Absolutely, officer, thank you.” The brown-haired man grabbed Pike by his jacket and hauled him toward the front of the inn while he clicked his fob.
The car beeped, lights flashing, as the man in the ball cap trailed behind, muttering, “Whose idea was it to let Pike plan his own bachelor party?”
When the men were safely inside, Scott turned to Rick, rubbing his hands together. “Where is Ansel? I can’t wait to see that smug son of a bitch’s face after he hears we cleared out the clubhouse.”
“You did?” Joy rushed through him, waiting for Scott to go on, and when he didn’t, Rick prodded, “What did you find?”
“We got a warrant and found maps leading to their labs. Once those are shut down, we’ll start interrogating his men. We’ll find out where the rest of the bodies are buried, but as of now, we have enough to put Ansel and most of them away for life.”
“What about the man who attacked Kaylee?”
Scott grimaced. “He took quite the beating and is still in a medically induced coma, but when he wakes up, he’ll face additional charges of assault, attempted abduction, and intimidating a witness. Trust me, he’ll be lucky to get out while he still has all his teeth.”
“How did you know where to find the labs?”
“They didn’t find one of the bugs, so we overheard two of the men talking about restarting the kitchen on Thyme Road.
” Scott clapped him on the back. “Trust me, the charges are going to stick. With the amount of firepower that I’m sure will kick back illegal, this is just the tip of the iceberg.
If it hadn’t been for Ansel’s obsession with finding Kaylee, we would still be sitting on our hands.
” Scott squeezed his shoulder before releasing him. “Now, where is the man of the hour?”
“He’s at the back of the crowd. Come on.” Rick led him around the group, and they stepped through the bodies to where Ansel was zip-tied. The closer they got, the harder Rick’s heart started to pound.
He wasn’t there.
Rick frowned, looked around, and called out to Paulette. “Hey, where’s Ansel? The guy who was sitting back here? Did they already haul him into the back of a car?”
“No, not that I saw,” she hollered back.
Rick’s heart slammed painfully against his breastbone, the blood pounding in his ears to the point where he couldn’t hear what Scott was saying.
Without warning, he took off running for Kaylee’s house, jumping over prone prisoners and picking up speed when he hit the pavement.
Scott shouted his name, but he ignored him, pumping his arms and legs as fast as he could go.
Had Ansel merely pretended to be tied up, or had he gotten loose from his restraints?
How much of a head start did he have? Had he followed Kaylee, or was he still looking for her?
Rick pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed Kaylee, but it just rang and went to voicemail.
Fucking son of a bitch.
Rick called Josie, and she picked up on the second ring.
“Hey, is everything okay?”
“Is Kaylee with you?” he asked, his voice hoarse and breathy.
“No, she went home. She wanted to take a shower. Why?”
“It’s Ansel. He’s not here.”
“What?”
“Ansel escaped, and he’s coming for her! Ansel is coming for Kaylee.”