Chapter Fifty
FIFTY
As it turned out, tear gas spread throughout an enclosed room faster than an adult human male could pull gas masks out of a duffle bag.
Shepherd’s eyes and throat burned. He shoved a mask over Ginny’s head before yanking the other on himself, coughing and crying and snotting.
Chris and Max came in from behind the president, who himself was on his knees and dry-heaving, each holding canisters of bear mace and spraying like they were kids on Halloween, drenching their friends with silly string.
Shepherd abandoned his supplies and reached for Ginny.
She clutched her mask to her face, shallow gasps quiet but audible even as all the bikers were screaming and cursing and puking.
With no time to lose, he hooked one arm under her knees, the other round her back and carried her out of the gaseous biker clubhouse into the South Florida humidity, which wasn’t much better as far as breathing goes.
There was enough water in the air to saturate a sauna, and it clung to his gas-covered skin in a sheen of toxic grease.
Ginny abandoned the mask, sucked in a deep breath of the thick air, and immediately launched into an incredible string of swear words that Shepherd had never heard strung together so artfully before.
He hustled her towards Noah’s car, which was parked across the street behind several palm trees, before ripping off his own gas mask and reaching for the gallon of lukewarm milk left on the passenger seat.
He dumped the sickly-sweet liquid directly on his face before offering it to Ginny, who repeated the motion, still swearing.
“Wow,” Noah said when the milk ended the tirade. “That was … you should write an advice book for people who want to learn how to curse creatively.”
She spit out milk, held up her middle finger.
Out of the front door came a handful of bikers, all armed but no longer dangerous, falling on the pavement and gasping for air.
“Noah,” Shepherd panted. “Did you do it?”
Noah waved an impressive cell phone; surprisingly thick, matte black, it folded closed and even had an antenna on the top. The fact that this kind of model was still in circulation was another wonder of the world. “As soon as Chris and Max went in. They’re meeting us back at the restaurant, right?”
Shepherd nodded.
“Then we should get going. I think I can hear the sirens already.”
Shepherd wiped his face with his hand—it didn’t remove any milk, only spreading the pale liquid around more—and listened. Sure enough, sirens were on the way. He shook his head and sat down. “Just a second.”
“But what about Haul Ass?”
Ginny took the seat next to him, closing the door and blocking out the siren sounds. Shepherd pulled her close to his side, kissed her temple. She smelled like milk and pungent cinnamon, powerful enough to take out a bear.
“OK, Noah,” Shepherd said. “Haul ass.”