AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“DO IT!”
Eddie muttered something into his phone, then shoved it in his pocket and squatted down on the other side of Benjy’s body.
As they switched out, Jack taking away his hands and Eddie covering the bleeding wounds, Jack looked at Kade but pointed at me. “Get her to my place. Now.”
For the first time ever, I saw an emotion on Kade’s face: confusion. “What?”
I spoke at the exact same time. “What?!”
Jack slid his gun into the back of his jeans. His hands were red with Benjy’s blood. “Get her to my place and keep her safe until I get there.”
“But the cops – ” Kade protested.
“Just do it,” Jack ordered, his voice cold and hard as steel.
“What are you going to do?” I asked, doing my best to hide the panic in my voice.
“Try and stop another killing,” Jack said, then followed Lou out into the night.
10
Jack
Iroared down Highway 27, following the taillights on Lou’s Harley.
There were only a limited number of ways out of town; the gunman was apparently heading into the desert rather than the interstate towards LA. If he’d gone for the interstate, he might have ducked and weaved through traffic and eventually lost us. Maybe.
Instead, he was heading into open desert down a largely deserted road, with nothing but sand and darkness for 50 miles.
He’d signed his death warrant with that choice.
Unless I got to him first.
It wasn’t that I wanted him to live. Hell, I wanted to beat him to death with my bare hands. I fucking hated the Santa Muertes with a passion to begin with, and Benjy was only a kid, a goddamn kid.
But the asshole who’d shot him had already paid with his life. And the rider up ahead would spend the next 20 years behind bars as an accessory to murder.
If he didn’t get murdered himself in the next few minutes.
No, the reason I wanted him alive was because after three years of infighting and bitter struggle and near disasters, I’d finally put the days of gang warfare behind us. We operated inside the law now. No more bribing and threatening the cops, no more dead bodies left out in the desert for the coyotes to rip apart.
But my guys from the club were frothing for blood. That lone rider was going to bring back the bad old days all on his own – unless I stopped the lynch mob from a summary execution.
I just had to reach them before Lou did.
God DAMN Lou. I knew exactly how this was going to go down: he was going to spin the tragedy into an attack on my leadership of the club. He was going to rant and rave about how we needed strength, not weakness – how we’d lost our balls since we’d gone legit.
Lou’s whole motto was ‘Never let a good crisis go to waste – especially if it’ll bring down Jack Pollari.’
Fuck Lou.
He might take me down one day, but not over this.
My Harley V-Rod Night Rod Special was rigged for speed; Lou’s older Dyna was geared more towards cruising. I blew past him as soon as I knew exactly where we were headed.
I wasn’t disappointed. Five miles later I could see the taillights of nine bikes, tiny red pinpricks in the distance. In a matter of minutes I’d overtaken them.
Eyeball and Chuck were in the lead. I pulled up next to them and motioned for them to back off.
