3. Gauge
GAUGE
Finding Nielson wasn’t all that hard. After all, shots were fired.
There was only one place he’d be with shots fired in his town.
“The hell’s going on, boys?” he asked as his cruiser pulled into the parking lot of our mechanic shop.
A throng of sirens followed him in, piercing ears for miles as they found spots to slot themselves in. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say they looked like us.
A crew, rolling up on some bullshit they hadn’t figured out yet.
“Deac told me to come tell you guys not to head in until he gives the clear,” I said as I bent down toward his cracked windshield.
Sheriff Nielson opened his cruiser door and shoved his paunchy body out. “The hell I’m not. Shots were fired in my fucking town. Riser!”
I stepped in front of him as he straightened his back. “No.”
The sheriff had to tilt his head back to look up at me. “So you expect us to stand here and wait for your go-ahead when we heard bullets popping off across town? That it?”
I nodded. “Yes. But if it makes you feel any better, all we’re doing is clearing the building. We’ve got one man injured and another taken, we don’t need any more today.”
That gave him pause. “Who’s injured?”
“Rat.”
He shook his head. “And who was taken?”
I paused. “Baitfish.”
“Jesus,” he whispered as he raked his hands through his hair. “You guys got security cameras in there, yeah?”
I nodded again. “Dallas said he had something that he wanted to show us. I’m sure that’s the first place we’ll head once we know the shop is safe.”
He looked around at all his people that had gathered before heaving a heavy sigh. “You got any idea where they took your man?”
I chewed on the inside of my cheek. “Not a fucking clue.”
And that’s when he put his fingers in his mouth and let out a scream of a whistle.
“Riser! Moniker! Lanny! The three of you grab a deputy and get out there to comb the streets! We’ve got a missing man, six foot even, smooth-shaven face?—”
“Who’s been taken!?” someone shouted.
Even Nielson had to pause before he said it. “Bait’s been taken, everyone! Stay alert!”
They scrambled. I mean to tell you, they lit their asses on fire and fucking dove back into their vehicles.
By the time tires were done peeling across the asphalt, I watched four cruisers hop curbs to get back out onto the road.
They sped away in all directions, their lights and sirens completely silent as I watched cruiser windows roll down by the half-dozen.
Then I felt something on my shoulder.
“Gauge,” Dallas said.
I turned to face him. “All clear?”
He nodded. “Let’s get everyone inside. We’ve gotta watch how this all went down.”
I nodded toward Sheriff Nielson, and he let out yet another staggering whistle.
The rest of his deputies and beat cops followed us inside, and the eerie silence that followed us clenched my gut.
This wasn’t good. None of this would end well if something happened to Bait.
He was the best of us. Quiet, sure. Hard around the edges, of course.
It was practically a requirement for our lifestyle.
But he was good. Deep down, all he wanted was a life he could be proud of. A life that made his mama smile.
He just wanted to make his mom smile.
“You ready?” Dallas asked as he walked over to the security camera set up.
I hardly remembered the walk in, but I remembered nodding my head.
With the sheriff to my left and his men gathered around the rest of us, all of our eyes were glued to the television screens as pathetic, barely colored images with no sound raced across them.
I watched as six people, dressed in all black and seemingly all built the same, rushed the shop from both entrances.
Three through the front, three through the back.
The guns they had strapped across their shoulders were big enough to scare even the most hardened of enemies, and as I watched one of those fuckers shove that gun into Bait’s face, my fists balled up at my sides.
My vision dripped red as they wrangled him to the ground, with one of the guys even stepping on the back of his fucking neck with a boot.
I smelled the blood of my enemies trickling beneath my nose as my fingernails buried crescent moons into my palms.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Deac glowered as Rat kicked around.
We watched him struggle. We watched his arms outstretch for Bait. We watched as those six men pulled ours apart like a fresh loaf of bread, and it curdled my goddamn stomach. I wanted blood. I wanted their guts to spill onto the ground before I used it all as bait for fucking fishing.
We’d feast on the innards of our enemies while roasting those fish on a grill if I had my way.
“Stop the tape,” Deac said.
Dallas reached out and paused the footage just as I rushed through the garage to get to the back door in the first place. I refused to move, though. I stared at that still-life image, replaying everything I just witnessed in my mind.
Six on two.
They never stood a fucking chance.
“All right,” Sheriff Nielson said before clearing his throat, “we’ll work this how we can, and you guys work it how you can. Get me a copy of that footage, too. I’ve got a team that I’m sure will want to scour it.”
“Can do,” Dallas said as he hunched over the keyboard.
“You need Plug for this?” Mace came up and asked.
Dallas didn’t respond, though. “I’m making two copies.”
“Why?” Deac asked.
“Because I want one,” Dallas said plainly.
Plug cleared his throat as he turned away from the televisions. “Nielson?”
“Yeah?”
“How many traffic cameras does Layborn have? Four?”
The sheriff shook his head. “We put in three more at the turn of the year.”
“I’m gonna need access to them. We have to track that van before they get away with Bait.”
“Of course, help yourself to whatever you need. I’ll make sure everyone knows that you need access.”
“Thanks,” Plug said flatly as he exited the closet of a room.
“Hey, Plug!” Deac called out.
“What!?”
“Update us as you go! I wanna know what direction that van headed in!”
“Why do you think I’m gonna scour them!? I’ll be back in a bit!”
Deac barked orders and everyone yelled across the shop, but I couldn’t take my eyes off that television screen.
I should’ve been with them. They were on patrol, searching through things, and that was my job.
Patrol routes. Keeping them safe while scouring for information.
It was my one task, and I failed them. Rat was beaten to high hell, Bait was God-knows-where, and the police were now involved.
I had to find a way to make things right.
“Gauge, you good?” Deac asked as he placed a hand on my shoulder.
I shrugged off his touch. “Let me know when you hear from Plug.”
“I can do you one even better,” Plug said as he came racing back into the room.
“Tell me you’ve got something,” Deac said as he practically lunged toward the man.
Plug’s face told me all I needed to know before he spoke, though. “The van’s only clocked on two traffic cams. They’re headed north, out of town?—”
“At least it’s opposite of the clubhouse,” Dallas said as he came up to the fold.
“But,” Plug said as he shot Dallas a look, “once they get past that last traffic cam, I don’t have anything on them.”
I finally found my voice. “What’s up that way other than desert?”
Plug shrugged. “That and sand, until the next town.”
I didn’t hesitate. “Get on your bike and take someone with you. We need to know if that van is on those traffic cams. We need to know if they’re town-hopping or hidden in the desert terrain.”
Deac nodded. “Mace!”
The man rushed up and skidded to a stop in front of us. “What’s up?”
I motioned to Plug. “Go with him. Head to the next northern town and stay with Plug while he searches their traffic cams. We need to find anything and everything that we can on the van that got away from Deac. And be careful.”
“Why?” Mace asked.
I looked over at Deac as Plug spoke. “What are you not saying?”
Deac looked around before his gaze landed on the back of Sheriff Nielson’s head.
He watched the man like a hawk as he grabbed Plug’s jacket and pulled the man close.
We all stepped in, our shoulders hunched and our voices low.
And as Deac dragged Plug up to his face, I readied myself for the reality that was about to descend on us.
Because either way, more blood would be spilled before this was all said and done.
“We’re looking for a professional team,” Deac muttered as he released Plug. “I laid my entire extended magazine into the back of that van as I was headed here, and nothing happened. No popped tires. No broken glass. Nothing.”
“Shit,” Mace hissed.
“Whoever this is, they’re professional,” I said, “and they’re good. Keep your distance, keep your wits, but above all?”
“Keep your smarts,” everyone said together.
“Come on, Mace,” Plug said as he stepped away from the group, “we’ve got some cameras to scour.”
“Keep your phones close!” I called after them.
Dallas closed the loop when they moved away, and I couldn’t help but ask the next logical question. We were all stalemated. We were all shocked.
Something had to jumpstart us.
“Has there been any phone call or ransom demand that we know of?” I asked.
The fog over Deac’s face lifted. “Nothing. There’s just… nothing.”
“That’s because this isn’t random,” the sheriff said as he walked back over to us.
I parted from Dallas’s side long enough to create a hole for him to slip into beside me. “The fuck is it then?”
That’s when Nielson held up the flash drive of the footage Dallas had finally given him. “I only did one tour overseas before I came home while in the Army. But during my time in Kabul, I learned a fuckton of things that have helped me in my career ever since.”
“Meaning?” Dallas asked.
“Meaning,” Sheriff Nielson said as he eyed Deac, “I know a hit when I see one.”
And as the blood drained from my face, Deac bellowed over our heads louder than any other sound I’d ever heard him make.
Which told me exactly how worried he just became.
“Everyooooooone!” he roared. “CHUUUUUUUURCH!”