33. Riptide
RIPTIDE
“The call disconnected. Fuck!” Mad Dog curses. “He has her phone, and that brave little idiot had to keep asking questions that pissed him off instead of just playing nice and waiting for help.”
“Where do you think he’s headed?” Rebel’s looking itchy, like he wants to throw himself on his bike and ride toward the Devil’s Brigade clubhouse. And honestly, maybe we should while we try to figure this out, but if Clutch is headed somewhere else we’d just end up losing time.
“I don’t know. He left when shit kicked off so he might not know what happened, but all it would take is one phone call to fix that.
It didn’t sound like he was planning on hurting her, but if he really is the one behind all this, and he thinks she’s a threat, he’s not going to let her go with a pat on the head. ”
“Any way we can track her?” Rebel asks.
“I didn’t sneak a tracer onto Clutch’s car if that’s what you mean.”
“Nah, but her phone or something. I don’t know this shit, but…” He looks past me and waves. “Snark, get the fuck over here. Quick.”
Our resident tech expert hurries over, followed by Bear, his teammate. Two of Alessa’s boys. “What’s up? You got something for me?” Snark asks. He’s the kinda guy who talks fast, like he needs to race to keep up with his own brain.
I hold up my phone. “Melody and Clutch are MIA. We were wondering if there was a way to track her phone. Time is real short. Any ideas?”
He pulls out his phone and starts up an app with lots of gauges and numbers that I couldn’t begin to guess the use for. “You’re lucky you had me go over her phone while we had it. Means I’ve got her MAC address saved and some other useful info that I should be able to pin her down with.”
I think we all blink at him in the same way. Sometimes it’s easy to forget how much he knows.
“And you got all that on your fucking phone?” Mad Dog asks.
He gives Mad Dog a look. “Of course not, but I can VPN into our servers and look into it. Also, we’ve got another ace in the hole. Riptide, call Rory.”
Right. We got at least two fucking computer whizzes in the club. A moment later, I’ve got her on the line. “Hey, I’m gonna put you on speaker, ‘cause Snark needs to talk to you.” That much I know how to fucking do.
“Rory, I need you to tunnel into the address I’m sending you. Your credentials should work.”
She doesn’t even ask why. Probably pretty fucking obvious there’s a crisis on hand, and she’s a smart girl. Real fucking smart. She’s also a little sneaky. I’m pretty sure she’d do it just for fun anyway.
Once they get going, I don’t know what the fuck language they’re speaking together, because it sounds like English, but I know at most half of the words they’re throwing around.
Or I know the words, but I sure as hell don’t understand them in the way they’re using them.
Tunneling, back doors, firewalls, I don’t know.
I just hold the phone while they figure it out.
“Okay, got a ping off that relay. Her phone was near it not too long ago.”
“I see it. Just bringing the radius out a little.”
“Fuck, I wish I was on something with a bigger screen than my phone. Follow the map north and—”
“I got it,” Rory interrupts. “Sending map coords.”
“Fuck, good girl,” Snark says with a self-satisfied grin. The kind you get when you love difficult puzzles and just solve one. “If I wasn’t already madly in love with my girl…”
She laughs. “I know, I’m good. You’re not so bad either. Got what you need? I promised to meet Bull and Diesel in a couple minutes.”
“All good. Tell them hi and thanks for letting me borrow you.”
The call cuts off and Snark taps his phone a couple times. Messages ding into all three of our phones at once. “Sent you map links to the last relay station her phone bounced off of. She’s been heading mostly east and not many choices along that road. Goes out into fucking nowhere.”
I tap the link to see. He’s right. There’s a freeway exit a ways back, but it goes out into the sticks. There are some houses out there, but fewer and fewer until it’s basically a service road leading into the wilderness.
But it’s the best lead we have.
Rebel pats Snark firmly on the back. “You and Rory are fucking geniuses. Buying you both beers when we get back to the clubhouse.”
“The beers are free…”
Mad Dog nods. “That’s right, and we’ll let you have as many as you want. Let Eagle-eye and the others know what’s going on. C’mon guys.”
We run to our bikes, leaving Snark behind giving us the finger.
Dust flies as we peel outta the parking lot. There’s not a goddamn moment to lose. Doesn’t take long before we’re riding the ramp up to the freeway, furious, determined and ready to fucking kill.
We break every speed limit on the way, tearing down the freeway like the devil itself is on our fucking heels, weaving past traffic like we’re immortal.
They’ve got a head start, but they don’t know they’re being followed, and if we’re lucky, no one’s told them yet about Joker’s coup.
It’s a long way to the end of that road, if that’s where they’re going, and as long as we go full barrel, we might just manage to catch up.
I turn my throttle, milking out every little bit of speed I can get.
Feels like forever before Rebel raises his hand for our attention and points at the next exit, like we don’t all have the GPS up already. I look down at it to confirm, but yeah, the next one is ours. We’re getting close.
There’s nothing here, other than the road.
Dust and tumbleweed. A few scraggly trees.
A house in the distance with an access road so long it should have its own name.
It’s so fucking desolate. Reminds me of being out on the water with nothing for miles.
Some people think it’s peaceful. I think it’s depressing.
Give me a good city any day of the week, where there’s always a beer nearby and the rain tastes like motor oil.
Cranking our throttles, we go as fast as we dare, kicking up a dust cloud behind us.
We got the sun at our backs and only one goal.
To catch up while Melody’s still alive. So much can happen in such a short time, I hope we aren’t too late.
It feels like there’s no way we’ll get there in time, but we gotta try.
It’s in Clutch’s best interest that she’s alive when we arrive.
I’d hate to have to force-feed him his own fucking spleen.