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“Turn around and head back down the way you came, and no one comes away hurt. We're not going to ask you twice.” The guy is nothing but rectangles. Square jaw, flattop haircut, hips as wide as his shoulders, and looks like he could bench press a forklift.
I know my help is a last resort, but I put my hand on my gun anyway. Just in case.
“Funny that,” says Shadow, stepping forward with his hand on the hilt of his gun. His tone is real low, real deadly. “We ain't asking either. You see, there's a lot of us coming up, and we're on a goddamn mission. Now, I'm sure you love your boss and that he treats you fellas like you're his own goddamn children, but here's the deal. My woman's mother and father are trapped up there, and it's making her real upset. And when my woman's upset, I get upset, and I get just a little fucking crazy. Now I bet you're thinking, one angry biker, we can handle that. But I got a lot of friends, and we're all Screaming Eagles. Heard of us, right? So the question is, exactly how lucky do you feel? Maybe you'll shoot me. Maybe you'll shoot a couple of my buddies here, but do you guys think you can take all of us? Because unless you can kill every last one, I can fucking guarantee you that this is your last day on this Earth, and you just spent it throwing away your life for a scumbag like Mesner.”
Square guy stiffens, but doesn't look convinced. The guy behind him, though, looks a little wild-eyed. “Fuck this, I didn’t even get a bonus last Christmas.” He holds his hands up, well away from the gun at his side. “Let me pass, and I'll get the fuck outta here. I got a pregnant wife at home.”
“Jones, get the fuck back in line,” the lead guy says, but the deserter ignores it.
“Sorry, boss. I'm out.”
“Me too.” One of the other guys goes after Jones, who's very nervously squeezing down past the glares of a whole lot of angry bikers. “Odds are against us, man.”
I blink in amazement as he follows down the stairs and then a third and fourth guy do too. With every guard that leaves, the ones remaining look more and more nervous, and the scales tip further in our favor. And then even the leader shakes his head. “Fuck this. I'm not staying here to get murdered.” And with that, the landing is cleared, revealing a massive steel door.
“Viking and Ripper,” Shadow says. “Follow them down and make sure they all make it safely, if you know what I mean. Call ahead so our guys know not to shoot them on the way out. No need to make them feel comfortable, but no aggression unless they make the first move.”
The only biker here who's completely shirtless, and has a long braided beard, nods. “Got it. Good luck.” Then he and another follow them down.
“Well, we're here,” says Thunder. “What’s next?”
“Everything from here up is his penthouse,” I supply, remembering my time here all too well. “I’m not sure how to open the door, but there are stairs inside to get to the rest of the place.”
Shadow pulls up his phone. “Snark. Any progress? There's a door up here, looks electric. Big fucking steel door. It's not so crazy that it's online, is it?”
A moment later, there's the sound of an engine starting, and the door slowly rolls open.
“You're a fucking genius. Shadow out.”
A chill races down my spine at the thought that we're about to face Vincent again. God, please let Mom—and Carnell—be okay, and that we're not too late.
35
LIGHTNING
The first floor of Mesner's penthouse is an office, the whole floor open with windows giving a panorama view of the city. There’s only a few buildings that stand even taller, blocking his view. Bet those piss him off. Gotta love ‘em.
The room is set up for multiple people, but it’s clear which desk is Mesner’s. He has a whole fucking command station on a platform overlooking five other desks. With a big oak desk, fancy-ass chair and three computer screens around, it looks like he's the captain of a fucking spaceship. I can only imagine how much shit and pain has been planned from that chair. It makes me sick.
“He’ll be upstairs. That’s where he actually lives.” She points to a glass staircase that winds up to a landing on the next floor.
Harper starts heading that way, but I grab her shoulder. “Stay behind us. He’s going to be fucking jumpy. Don't want you to get hit if he panics.”
“Forget panic. I hope he’s shitting his fucking pants,” Thunder growls.
Outlaw laughs and heads up first, going slow. He's about halfway up when multiple doors slam shut all at once. We’re cut off from most of our backup aside from Havoc and Nitro.
