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“DidBenny make it?” Pony asked.
“Well, yes, but still…” Devil said.
They were interrupted by the sound of a car horn blaring in the distance. It was in the direction of the dirt road, and judging by the sound, it must’ve been right at the intersection where it met the asphalt road.
It seemed too much to think of it as coincidence. Pony straightened up and took a few steps toward the road.
There was a pretty good sight line here, over half of mile’s worth of road visible, and soon enough, his sharp eyes were able to pick out a motorcycle coming toward them at high speed.
A street racing motorcycle. Black Tooth’s motorcycle, he was pretty sure.
“Devil,” he said. “Let me see that gauge for a second.”
“Hunh? Oh, sure, here, Pony,” Devil said, handing him the sawed off shotgun.
Pony took a quick look around. Nobody else was here at the gas station at the moment. It was just the three of them. No reason to let one of these guys get away.
He didn’t know why Black Tooth was tearing down the road like his ass was on fire, but it didn’t really matter. He couldn’t let him get away, and he needed to know if the other two members of the Dipshit Trio were still at the cabin.
By the time he’d checked the parking lot to make sure it was empty, and the shotgun to make sure it was loaded, the motorcycle speeding toward them was almost on top of them. Pony took another handful of steps toward the road, waited until the motorcycle was driving right past them, and fired.
There was a loud pop just after the report of the shotgun as buckshot shredded the front tire of the motorcycle. The rider and the bike both skidded out across the asphalt, sliding to a rest in the grassy lot just next to the gas station.
“You missed!” Devil said.
“What are you talking about?” Pony said. “I hit the tire.”
“Yeah,” Devil said. “You missed.”
“I was aiming for the tire.”
“Oh,” Devil said. “Oh, I thought you were shooting at the dude. Why didn’t you shoot the dude?”
“Because now we get to ask him questions,” Pony said, “like where are his buddies, are they still at the cabin, what kind of guns do they have, all that good stuff.”
“Right, right,” Devil said, nodding, then said to Wyatt, “I would’ve shot the dude.”
“I’m glad you didn’t,” Wyatt said. “Let’s grab this asshole and ask those questions Pony was talking about. Then we can tie him up and leave him for the locals to pick up.”
The three of them walked over to where Black Tooth was lying in the grass, wriggling the helmet off of his head and throwing it from him. There was no hurry; the wannabe bank robber was clearly badly injured from his trip skidding across the asphalt and wasn’t going anywhere.
Considering how the guy acted toward Piper the night before, Pony didn’t exactly feel sorry for the guy. Every moment of his existence so far, Black Tooth had made a convincing argument that he was a Grade A asshole with no redeeming qualities, so if he was in the midst of having a lousy moment, so be it.
He was still lying on the ground when the three of them reached him, so Wyatt leaned over the downed bank robber and said, “What’s up, guy? Nice afternoon for a ride, hunh?”
“And a bank robbery,” Pony said.
Black Tooth said, “Ow, fuck, ah, God, my fucking legs.”
“Yeah, you look kind of jacked up, dude,” Devil said. “Dumping your bike like that, dragging along across the pavement, that’ll mess you right up.”
“Help me up, man,” Black Tooth said.
“No, no, I don’t think so,” Wyatt said. “You’re fine right there.”
“What the fuck happened?” Black Tooth said, wincing as he rolled around on the grass in pain. “Did you… did you shoot my tire?”
“No!” Wyatt said. “No, of course not. He did.”
