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Slick wanted the answer, too.
“Got sniper training,” Akemi added as he arrived. “Couldn’t tell if it was male or female. Heavy leather pants and jacket, blacked-out helmet, also knew I was there. He/she was a ghost, much like me.”
Drake nodded; if Akemi didn’t want to be seen, then he wouldn’t. The guy gave the meaning to the word ghost.
“The Lion Kings won’t fuck off,” Slick said thoughtfully. “Fury has them by the balls, and Barracuda is too stupid to leave the state. Any intelligent man would. He could start his club again elsewhere. But his ego is bruised, and he’ll want payback. The Lion Kings won’t back down.”
“Agreed, we’ve got trouble there,” Texas stated.
“The whole rigmarole was a fuckin’ set up. Tech was already in position to fire. They were primed and ready, and if not for our friend, who knows how it would have ended? We’d still be here shooting,” Drake replied.
Slick felt tired, and he could see it on Drake’s face, too. Fury was upping his game and trying to wear them down. The asshole was taking sporadic shots at them and their allies. No rest was possible; they stayed constantly alert. Even with Drake and the others covering one another’s back, they were all still weary. Some more than others. Slick ruefully thought he was too old for this crap.
“Let’s get home,” Drake said finally, his eyes narrowed in the setting sun.
Slick took on a similar pose, wondering if they shared the same question. Who the hell was the biker who had come to their aid?
Three days later.
Slick and Ezra got off their Harleys at Rage’s Hell. They’d had a call from Mac that three of The Lion Kings had been seen in the locality. As Mac and Lowrider were the only ones in the bar—apart from staff and customers—they’d phoned for back-up.
Slick heard a roar of pipes and looked up as six bikes pulled up around them and circled. His stomach sank. It had been a setup, and they’d walked into it.
Gravel spun as the bikers spun in circles, and a crowbar was aimed at his head. Slick ducked as his arm lifted to grab it, and he felt his shoulder wrench from its socket, but he held on and dragged the asshole from his bike.
Ezra’s grunt indicated that he had been hit.
Slick twisted, aiming the bar at the biker about to cave in Ezra’s skull.
Ezra rolled directly into the path of another man idling with a gun aimed at him. Slick moved, heart in throat, but knew he wasn’t gonna be fast enough. Pipes were coming straight for him.
Ezra’s eyes widened, and he began to turn.
A motorbike flew past them, and Slick saw a slender black figure, knees and legs up on the seat, push off and dive off the bike that kept going before falling to the ground. The figure launched at the asshole with the gun and took him down. There was a single shot, and the figure was moving with The Lion Kings’ weapon in hand.
Ezra was up on his feet and had flung his body at a King who had a lump of wood in his hands.
With a gut punch, Ezra knocked him backwards, and they both rolled over the side of the bike.
Slick had already changed directions and threw a crowbar in the spoke of a bike speeding. The bar hit, jammed, and the biker flew over the top as the Harley jack knifed and crashed back down.
The black figure ran past Slick, moving fast. They put one foot on the downed bike and leapt in the air, scissor kicking out. Their legs wrapped around the neck of a King, then brought him down hard to the ground.
Slick heard their rescuer give a grunt and realised….
She was female.
Her elbow jammed in the dazed Kings’ throat.
Slick caught the gun tossed in his direction and fired straight past the woman, taking out the King coming at her back with a knife.
Their friend did not stop and ran at Slick.
She slid into Slick, jolting him, just as a blade slashed where his head had been.
Flipping to her feet, she slammed an arm into the forearm of the attacker, slashing towards him with a knife of her own.
And then Ezra was there, and the King hit the floor.
