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Cobra nodded to Boa and Python. “Get the SUVs and get them outta here.”
Mamba and Rattler did a thorough search of the rest of the area and came up empty while Cobra doused the floorboards with gasoline. His prez liked to light shit up, especially if it meant taking down scum like Marita.
“Too bad the boss lady ain’t here.”
“Maybe she got spooked and vanished,” Rattler offered.
“Marita’s not the type who scares easily.”
A heartbeat later the pop, pop, pop of gunfire erupted from the rear parking lot.
14
“Fuck,” Rattler ground out.
Cobra threw the empty gas cans into the room, pulled a rag out of his pocket, lit it, and tossed it. The cheap linoleum floorboards crackled as the flame spread across the floor.
The three men raced to the back door and flung it open. Python and Boa were using the SUVs as cover against the shots fired from the side and the top of the building with the girls huddled between the two vehicles.
They exchanged a look, each gaming for the best way out of this clusterfuck.
“They’re about twenty feet away.” Cobra surveyed the distance, then nodded to Mamba. “Cover us.”
Mamba nodded, they did a quick countdown, then Mamba fired off a few rounds while Cobra and Rattler dodged their way to the SUVs. Cobra dove into the front seat, leaving the door open as Rattler hustled the girls around the other side of the vehicle. He whipped open the back door and the girls scrambled in taking cover on the floor. Boa slammed the doors shut, as Cobra threw the truck in gear, and sped the girls to safety on the other side of the building.
Gunfire exploded around Mamba, the acrid smell clouding the air, but he kept a steady stream of bullets flying. The blaze of flames flared into an inferno behind him. The intense heat sizzled through his T-shirt searing his skin.
Python threw the other SUV in reverse, then made a wide circle with Joker riding shotgun and Rattler firing shots out the back window. He came to a screeching halt a few feet from the back door of the building. Ratter threw open the back door, Mamba pumped out a few more shots then heaved himself into the back seat. Python floored the vehicle, and jerked the steering wheel to the right so hard the momentum slammed the back door shut. He sped around the building and onto the road keeping up the speed on the desolate road until he was sure nobody followed them.
He jerked his head to the side. “Everybody all right?”
Rattler gave Mamba the once over and stopped at his arm. “What the fuck?”
Blood seeped from Mamba’s bicep staining his black T-shirt and running down his arm.
He pulled up the sleeve of his T-shirt and twisted his arm. “Fuck! I must’ve caught a bullet.”
Rattler inspected the wound and Mamba yelped. “Shit, go easy, huh?”
“Looks like it grazed you, but it’s pumping blood like crazy.”
Python reached into the console, pulled out a packet of gauze and pitched it into the backseat. Mamba ripped off the sleeve of his t-shirt to get a better look.
Rattler chuckled as he opened the gauze. “Only fuckin’ outlaws would have a package of sterilized gauze at the ready.”
“Fuckin’ truth.” Mamba raised his arm as Rattler staunched the bleeding and wrapped the gauze around his bicep.
“Shit was crazy.” Python angled the SUV onto I-15 heading for Vegas. “And we still don’t have that bitch, Marita.”
“At least we got more girls out, but you know that ain’t gonna stop her.” Mamba twisted his lips. “There’s a huge profit in underage illegals and she sure as shit isn’t gonna give that up.”
Mamba’s phone buzzed and he swiped at it. “Yeah.”
“Everybody all right,” Cobra rasped through the phone.
“Looks like I caught a bullet, but it only grazed me.”
“Fuck. You got something to wrap it up?”
