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I smile at the helpless plea and harsh cough that goes with it. The pastor is hurting and scared. Good.
I call, “Today is your lucky fucking day, Braden.”
I can’t see him through the smoke, but I follow the sound of his coughing and almost sense his relief.
“Thank the Lord you’re here,” he says in rough, smoke-bruised breaths. “Untie me, please!”
Preacher steps behind the chair with his knife and a smile. “Hold still.”
Braden starts freaking out when he sees the knife. “Please, you don’t have to do this. No!”
Without a word, Preacher slices through the ropes with his knife until the asshole is free. “Stand up.”
Braden does what he’s told and shakes his head. “Thank you and bless you, boys.”
“Not so fast, asshole. You’re coming with us.” I stand in front of him because I know what comes next.
He tries to run, but Preacher is right behind him and grabs him by the back of his collar.
“Don’t kill me, please. I did what I had to,” he whines.
“Don’t worry, Pastor.” I smile and clap him on the back, making sure he stays low, so he doesn’t take a stray bullet or die of smoke inhalation before I have a chance to get some answers.
“We’re not going to kill you. Yet.”
Braden is smart enough to keep his trap shut, for now, following directions perfectly as we all reach fresh air.
“My church,” he cries when he gets a look at the building from the outside.
“It’s insured,” Preacher tells him and pushes him forward. “Don’t stop moving,” he growls and puts his hand to the back of Braden’s neck to keep him out of the path of the bullets.
Bullets fly quickly but they are all coming to us, which tells me one thing. There’s something between Braden and Iron Kings they don’t want us to know.
“Preacher, get him to safety!” I pull out my other gun and let the bullets fly, hitting two Kings with two bullets, smiling when they both crumble to the ground.
We advance across the parking lot, taking heavy fire, which I happily return until we’re able to disappear behind the decorative bushes that provide perfect cover. Temporarily.
“This way,” Preacher calls out just as Joaquin pulls up, wearing a smile on his face, a slick nickel-plated nine aimed at Braden.
“Get on the fucking bike, old man.”
Braden’s eyes go wide, and he looks to me and then Preacher. “You can’t be serious.”
Joaquin laughs. “You can hop on the back like the bitch you are, or I can drag you. Choice is yours. I’m good either way.” Joaquin ducks as a bullet flies by. “Now, old man.”
I turn in the direction of that bullet and smile when I spot Nogales. The little bitch is on his bike, ready to ride off like he hadn’t just tried to take a kill shot. He smiles and lifts his feet, riding through the back parking lot too fucking slowly.
I raise my gun and take aim, smiling when the bullet hits his right thigh, and the bike goes down with the asshole on top of it. “Fuckin’ Nogales.”
“Nice shot,” Preacher offers with a smile.
“We gotta go.”
I nod and turn to Joaquin. “Meet you at The Chamber.”
He nods and takes off, full-speed the moment Braden is on the back of his bike. I hear Joaquin’s laughter, and Preacher and I run toward our bikes while the Kings scramble to get away from a Reckless Souls onslaught. Several of them lie on the ground, writhing in pain or with the stillness of death.
I jump on my bike and take one last moment to look at the damage done here tonight because of two men, Hector and Braden, just as Angel Harbor Fire Department arrives. Too little, too late.
“Let’s go!” I yell to Ace and take off, hoping Preacher and I can catch up with Joaquin before trouble has a chance to find him.
