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Lyle smiled wryly. “No, the drunk fuck-up bit isn’t an act, the FBI dropped me, too…” Lyle's voice cracked then. He realized it hurt.
“When?”
“After I roughed up that Demonios guy, when I started drinking again…I’ve been working the Black Coyotes MC for years. I was inserted in when Cleaver was Prez, I took on the drunk MC member role too well, they were going to cut me loose, I fucked up various intel things… anyway, you showed up and blew them all to smithereens. I thought I was definitely going to be cut off but then you packed me off to rehab, Blue shows up and says they are giving me one last chance…”
Lyle rubbed his sore eyes. “But then that Demonios thing happened with Phantom, I dunno I guess it triggered it all…I was in Afghanistan, I was one of the men who…we were told by any means necessary to get the information out of them…they made it sound like a matter of national security…
“Fuck Lyle, it was, you did what you had to do, don’t beat yourself up about it-”
“But I do, Colt, I fucking hear their screams in my head all day and all night…”
“Well, I’m sure lots of people look back and wish they’d done things differently-”
“Blue said I was relieved of duty, I couldn’t be trusted, that’s when you took me off runs, too, and confiscated my bike-”
“Fuck, I didn’t realize-”
“I deserved it, I’m a fucking liability-”
Colt took a big breath in. “Yeah,” Colt pursed his lips. “Well, fuck, I did not in a million years suspect you Lyle, I have to be honest-”
“I know. Anyway, I wasn’t sure they’d listen to me but, they are sending a sniper unit, they’ll get Blue, the MC, Carmelo’s unit… a joint task force… we had a plan in place, if you were ever kidnapped, code nine nine…that fucking pig Carmelo was the brains behind it, he’ll probably get a medal for this if they pull this off ‘cause it's way fucking over his pay grade…” he reeled off the protocol to Colt.
“Well… fuck,” Colt managed to say. “I-”
But he couldn’t say any more. The door to the room flew open. A flushed and angry looking Titan stood there, with faithful lapdog Diesel beside him.
“I knew it!” Titan howled. “My fucking phone!”
Lyle looked down. Caught red-handed.
Titan charged forward then. And pulled a gun from his waistband.
Lyle’s eyes widened.
“Wait, Prez, no-” Diesel shouted, as shocked as Lyle and Colt were, lunging for Titan’s arms.
Colt tried to jump to his feet, but yowled with pain when he put weight on his dislocated shoulder. Diesel tripped, Colt staggered, Titan pointed the gun at Colt. He pulled the trigger.
Bam.
Lyle didn’t think. He didn’t shout, he didn’t doubt himself or what he had to do.
He jumped.
In front of the bullet meant for Colt.
It felt like he was airborne for an eternity. The bullet caught the top of his arm. A slamming, jarring violent gash. He felt hot liquid spatter onto his neck, his face. His T-shirt felt hot and wet.
His blood.
But the bullet diverted off into the wall, away from Colt.
Everyone juddered to the floor in a hot, angry, bloody mess.
A car horn sounded from outside. Honk honk.
"Whoo! What's up, boys!"
