The Bad Boys of Summer (27 page)

E
very mile
of the ride to the drop off seemed to take a thousand years for Jase. He knew it was worse for Henry, though that was difficult to even fathom. He followed the president as he wheeled in and out of slow highway traffic, keeping his speed only low enough to prevent a slide-off. Drake kept pace beside him. Beck lagged behind in the van, but he had the location—none of the bikers needed to wait.

Jase felt a growing dread in his gut. Maggie’s screams burned in his ears. He tried to let the soothing rumble of the bike beneath him spread and calm him, like it would calm Maggie if she were on the back, arms wrapped around him tight. Christ, he couldn’t lose her again, not now. He felt like the hero in some Greek tragedy.

The drop-off point was northeast of LeBeau’s limits, and at least five miles from the hideout coordinates they had received from the Afghanis. After a small detour down a gravel road, the bikers came to a flattened clearing that had likely once been the location of some pioneer homestead or ranch, though no buildings remained now. Two ugly black vans were already waiting for them, turned facing towards the gravel road to the highway. The bikers slid carefully onto the opposite side of the clearing and cut the engines.

“We go in cold,” said Henry without looking at any of them. He stabilized and got off his bike. “No weapons out until it’s necessary.” They waited without moving until Beck came ambling down the gravel road in the van. Jase fetched the bag of ransom cash from the van and returned it to Henry, who led the march to the middle of the clearing.

The doors of one of the black vans slid open loudly, and four men hopped out with M4 carbine rifles slung across their chests. They were wearing denim jackets and jeans and black ski masks, like the men from his driveway. They had no cuts or patches claiming for a club, but the way they moved together betrayed that these were likely members of the Rebel Cross. Henry’s contact had told them that Crosses were no different from other clubs and members often took side jobs for money. Whoever these Crosses were, they didn’t want the Black Dogs recognizing them. At least a few of them probably lived in LeBeau. The thought made Jase’s anger bubble hotter.

“You her old man?” one of the men asked, pointing at Henry. His voice didn’t sound familiar, especially as he shouted across the clearing from behind the cotton mask.

“Where is she?” Henry demanded.

The men ignored him. They conversed among themselves for a moment and then moved to approach the center of the clearing. Only one walked all the way to face Henry, with the others falling back to defend on either side, much as Jase and Drake had done themselves. Everyone had casual hands on their weapons.

“Do you have the money?” asked the leader as he walked up to Henry.

“Do you have my goddamn child?” said Henry.

“She’s safe, old man, don’t worry. We just hear you’ve got a reputation for not paying your dues so we need to make sure you actually brought that money with you. Else she might not be safe very long,” said the masked leader.

Jase’s rage exploded inside and it took all his strength to keep his feet planted and his gun holstered. He wanted nothing more than to tear over and end this negotiation by ripping some heads off. He tried to keep calm by reminding himself that Maggie would probably die if he didn’t keep it together.

Henry flared in anger as well, at the threat, and at the insult. They were working very hard to keep him emotionally compromised. Henry lifted up the bag in silence and opened the zipper far enough to show the piles of cash waiting inside. “It’s all here, you fucking coward. I want to see my daughter.”

“Throw that goddamn bag down so we can count it first!”

The bad feeling in Jase’s gut transformed into a roaring air-raid siren. Something was very wrong. He suddenly doubted that anything was in that second black van at all except more men with automatic weapons. Before he could figure out how to talk to Henry without interrupting the deteriorating negotiation, he felt the shocking buzz of his cell phone from the pocket in his cut. Common sense told him to ignore it, but something else inside him knew he had to pick it up.

Everyone’s eyes seemed to be watching Henry and the leader as they fought. Jase carefully slipped the phone out of his pocket. It was Will.

He accepted the call. Immediately the sounds of loud popping and screeching metal poured through the earpiece. Jase put the uncomfortable noise to his ear and whispered Will’s name as loudly as he dared. “What’s happening?”

“Drake!” Will’s voice screamed into the phone, and then came angry roaring followed by the unmistakable sound of 9mm gunfire from very close range—Will firing his weapon.

Jase listened to the sound of a gunfight as his eyes widened. He turned away from the group. “Will, this is Jase, what the fuck is going on?!”

Jase waited a few tense seconds, listening to the chaos, before Will’s voice returned. Jase had never heard Will so loud, so angry. “It’s Drake! It’s fucking Drake! He’s working with the Rebel Cr—“
Pop, poppopopop.

Jase turned and looked across the clearing where Drake stood, bored, watching Henry argue with the masked men. As if he felt Jase’s gaze, he suddenly looked over and met it. Even behind the sunglasses, Jase could see Drake’s expression drop when he saw the look on Jase’s face, phone pressed against his ear. He knew what was on the other end of that line.

“Stop Drake! Jase!” screamed Will.

Suddenly from the call, automatic gunfire erupted like a volcanic explosion, drowning out all other sounds. Jase could make out the faint faraway attempts of Will yelling but couldn’t understand another word. He stared at Drake, his breath quickening with every shot. Will and Ghost were stranded in a war zone.

Then as fast as it had come in, the call cut out.

F
or a few seconds
, Jase could only stare at his phone while the shock processed in his brain. Everything else was faraway and muffled. Jase felt something inside him awaken. It spread a new rage throughout his veins and suddenly he was aware of everything in sharp, crystal detail.

Before he realized it, he had stalked halfway across the clearing. Henry’s arguments with the hostage-taker suddenly ceased as the men in the masks shouted, questioning, hoisting their guns up in alarm. But Jase wasn’t after them, not at that moment. Henry shouted his name but he didn’t turn, didn’t even slow his pace.

Drake watched him approach like a deer frozen in headlights. The cigarette in his lips fell to the ground as he tried to get out a cry of fear, or surrender—Jase didn’t care which.

Jase had a good four inches, and fifty pounds, on Drake’s more slender frame. With full force, he shoved his fists into Drake’s chest and sent him flying into the dirt with both feet upended. Drake tried to scramble away, but Jase was on him quickly. He lowered a rib-crushing knee into Drake’s chest and pummeled his face with punches. The second one shattered his sunglasses, cutting his face and Jase’s knuckles, making every hit a bloody mess.

The clearing erupted into confused chaos. Henry and Beck rushed over, yelling Jase’s name. The masked men yelled at each other, jumpy, waiting for orders.

Over the din, Jase heard one of them yell: “We’re made, let’s get the fuck out of here!”

“Trigger go!” said another.

Jase looked up and saw the masked men retreating towards the first van. The second van’s sliding door popped and began to open.

“
Get down!”
yelled Jase to Henry. He pulled his sidearm and started firing off shots at the second van. Someone inside stopped the door halfway and tried to push it closed again, shouting and cursing. Two of the masked men opened fire with their M5s, and sent Jase scrambling off of Drake’s beaten body to take cover behind his bike. He saw Henry and Beck hunkered down on the side of the MC’s van, guns out, trying to keep the gunmen in the second van from emerging. Jase’s instincts had been right. They didn’t bring Maggie; they brought a kill squad.

“Get the money, get the money!”

From the side of the rear tire, Jase watched one of the mask men make a desperate sliding run for the bag of money Henry had dropped. Jase wriggled onto his stomach and took a few clean shots at the runner. One round pegged him in the carotid artery and the man dropped, blood gushing out of his neck.

Reloaded, the masked men opened fire again and pressed Jase down hard enough that he couldn’t come out from behind the bike. One of them must have grabbed the money bag, because suddenly the rear doors slammed shut and the van’s engines roared up. On cue, all three of the Black Dogs came from around their cover and began to open fire on the vans as they spun out in the clearing, trying to escape.

Jase jumped to his feet and fired off the rest of his mag as he followed the van on foot. He heard a few desperate pings against the metal of the second van’s body.

A motorcycle revved up behind him, and Jase turned in time to see Henry speed by him, chasing the vans down. He came up hard and fast on the second van, lagging behind almost four car-lengths on the dirt road. Jase heard the pop of Henry’s gun over the roaring engines, followed by the unmistakable blast of a tire blowing out. He watched as the van began to fishtail, brakes squealing as someone stomped them with a heavy, panicked foot. It swerved hard left into a shallow embankment on the side of the country road, and then flipped twice side-over-side with a cacophony of crushing metal and shattered glass. The first van didn’t even slow, disappearing beyond the trees towards the highway.

Jase ran over to Beck, already on the phone with the sheriff. “Out the way they came. Money should be on them. We need troopers down here, too.” He hung up and looked at Jase. “What the fuck happened?”

His heart still racing, Jase’s voice came out shaking with adrenaline. “Drake. He’s working with them.”

“Oh Christ,” said Beck. He looked around Jase’s shoulder to ensure Drake hadn’t moved from where Jase left him bloodied in the dirt. “Pick him up and get him in the van before the sheriff comes, we’ll deal with him.”

“I have to go after Maggie,” said Jase. “Will and Ghost are pinned down at those coordinates. That has to be their hideout. I have to get there before…” He didn’t finish.

“Go,” said Beck with a pat on his shoulder. “We’ll be right behind you.”

While Jase revved up his bike, Beck moved the MC’s van to the site of the crash. He and Henry waited like vultures in case any of them survived it and tried to make a break before the sheriff arrived. Jase slowed his bike down as he approached, but Henry only shook his head wildly and waved for Jase to move on. Jase gave a confirming salute before he lay on the throttle and tore up the dirt road towards the highway.

Jase followed the coordinates Will and Ghost had been checking out and found they led to an old industrial facility in the hills just off the interstate, tucked in a gully with steep faces on three sides. The main building was a monstrous thing of dusty concrete and faded paint. Two relocatable trailers sat on its perimeters, windows broken out, shingles flapping in the breeze. He didn’t see a single car or person roaming around outside.

Jase wheeled his bike as close as he dared to one of the relocatable trailers before shutting it down and continuing on foot. His stomach went cold when he realized he didn’t hear the sounds of gunfire which had been on the other end of Will’s call.

Weapon out, Jase sneaked around the first trailer. He saw no movement. The second trailer was offset and too far over open ground to make a run for safely. Instead Jase crept for a small one-car maintenance garage. As he approached he saw movement within and decided to go in hot.

Jase plunged into the garage with his weapon raised and found two similar 9mms pointed in his own face. Behind them were Will and Ghost, eyes wild, but alive.

“Jase!” said Will and lowered his gun with a deep exhale. “Fuck, I was hoping it was one of you when that bike came up the canyon.”

“Things have gone to shit real fast,” said Jase.

“We wouldn’t know anything about that,” said Ghost with a sardonic laugh. The pale, bald-headed rookie showed a lot of promise for the MC—mostly due to his skilled applications of violence. Will accepted but didn’t enjoy battle; Ghost couldn’t stop smiling. “You have any extra ammo on you?”

He handed them both two mags from the six he had brought from his saddle bag. “Did you both just threaten me with empty guns?” said Jase.

Ghost just chuckled to himself and reloaded.

“Are you the only one coming?” said Will.

“Calvary's on the way. The drop went bad after your call. One van is down, the other was making a run for it. They didn’t have Maggie with them. She has to be here,” said Jase. “Have you had eyes on her?”

“No, but there is only one working entrance to that big building, and thank Christ for that. It’s the only reason we didn’t get flanked,” said Will. “We rode up and there was nothing—no cars, no guards. We thought we had the wrong place, or maybe they had moved shop. We got inside about a hundred feet and someone saw our cuts and called out for Drake.”

Jase’s teeth ground in anger. “They were waiting for that little prick to come back. No wonder they’ve had the drop on us at every turn. Drake has known where to find Maggie since she got here.”

“Bet our little wheeler and dealer was going to get a sweet cut of that ransom,” said Ghost.

“Well, the dude who spotted us inside was just as shocked as we were—at least enough that we got off a few shots and made it out of the building. Then shit just… got crazy.” Will shook his head and reloaded his gun.

“Had us pinned for a bit behind some dumpsters by that other trailer,” said Ghost with a point. “Dudes only ever came out of that door, so it left us room to retreat. They holed up back inside after.”

“How many?”

“I only counted four that came out after us,” said Ghost.

“By now they might know the drop is fucked and try to leave. If the first van lost the cops, though, they would be on their way here with more gunmen,” said Jase. “We should go in now while there’s a chance we can overtake them. We have to get Maggie out of there.”

“Waiting only gives them time to plan for us,” said Ghost. “I’m in, let’s do this.”

Will nodded, determined. “On your lead, Jase.”

Thirty seconds later, Jase directed them out of the maintenance garage and off to different positions behind cover to make a staggered move on the factory door. The last twenty feet, with no structures to hide behind, had to be sprinted in the open.

Once all three of them gathered up at the door, Will said, “The pathways around the machinery are narrow and straight. At ten o’clock high there’s a foreman’s office that overlooks the floor, someone on the stairs there spotted us.”

“We didn’t get to scout right, but there’s some kind of storage rooms back there. Gunmen definitely came from that direction, so something’s back there,” said Ghost.

On an instinct, Jase said, “Let’s go right. Stay together.” He tested the doorknob with a turn and a shoulder shove. Something blocked the door’s movement, but Jase was not to be stopped. With Will’s help, they pushed until the sound of metal screeching echoed into the big factory. All three hurried in and found cover, waiting to be rushed. Instead they heard distant yelling bouncing off the walls.

With silent hand signals, Jase led them low between the rows of huge stationary machines. The far end of the building split into concrete hallways filled with square-doored rooms. They could hear clearly the makings of an argument between men now.

“If they aren’t fucking answering, it’s probably not for a good reason, you idiot! We have to get the fuck out of here before the cops show up!”

“I’m not going
anywhere
until I get the money I was promised for this shit!”

“Suit your goddamn self. I’ve already been fucking
shot.
I ain’t staying here to get hauled off for all this so I can die in prison.”

Jase arranged Ghost and Will on either side of the room where the men argued unawares. He took point and entered the room boldly, unchallenged. He fired two shots and killed the man on the left side of the dirty storage room, the one who had been ready to stay and wait for his money.

The second man yelled as blood splattered his shirt and face. He turned to Jase and immediately raised one of his hands. The other arm dangled limply at his side, already oozing blood from the gunshot Maggie had given him. “Oh fuck.”

“Where’s the girl?” said Jase. He pointed the weapon at the man’s face.

“I was just in this for the money! I tell you, y-you let me live through this!” begged the man.

Jase lowered and fired a shot into the man’s leg. He screamed as he collapsed to the floor.

“Last chance,” said Jase.

“End of the hall,” said the man. He sobbed and pointed a shaking, bloody finger.

The gunshots had attracted attention. Distant shouts echoed. “How many men are in the building?” said Ghost.

“Including me, five… four,” he said as he looked over at his dead comrade.

Jase removed the weapons from both the dead and wounded men and passed them out. He put a big boot on the man’s bleeding leg and leaned until the man screamed like he was on fire. The sound echoed out into the concrete hallways. Will and Ghost flanked Jase with their guns aiming towards the door.

The hollow sound of running footsteps approached. Someone in the hall yelled an unfamiliar name. Jase pressed on the man’s leg again and he cried out. The pain was too much for him to make any coherent word of warning; he could only sit helplessly and become the perfect bait.

Two more men rushed down the hallway and into the room to answer his cries. Ghost and Will opened fire on them before they had any chance to comprehend what had happened. Their bodies twisted and contorted and the collapsed in bloody heaps. Now the Black Dogs couldn’t be outgunned.

“Come with me,” said Jase to Will. “Ghost, stay here with our chum.” Ghost moved over to the wounded man with a nod and a smile.

Jase tore down the hallway with Will at his back, passing storage rooms that were dark and doorless, some with strong foul smells. As the end of the hall approached, he could see a big red metal door closed on the last room on the left, and knew immediately that Maggie was behind it.

Will posted up on the other side of the doorframe and waited for Jase’s signal. The door wasn’t bolted, but was open just a sliver of an inch, and inside Jase could hear a man talking lowly. He caught Will’s eye, gave him a nod, and kicked the door open with his full strength.

Maggie stood before him, crying but alive. From her wrists dangled the remnants of restraints, cut off ragged in a rush from the metal chair in the back of the room. A big hand covered her mouth, while the other held a gun against her head. Behind her, a skinny man with a long brown ponytail glared over her at Jase and Will.

“Put ‘em down, boys,” he said.

“You must be Evan,” said Jase. He kept his pistol aimed at Evan’s face.

“And you must be the new guy I’ve heard so much about. I’m sorry she dragged you into this, but I understand. She is pretty irresistible,” said Evan as he nuzzled against her. Maggie’s face went red and twisted in disgust, but she couldn’t do anything to stop it.

Rage flared through Jase’s veins. “You’re not getting out of here alive.”

“Then neither is Maggie,” said Evan. “I know the money is lost, I don’t give a fuck about that. She was never going back to her daddy, anyway. The money was just to pay those thugs.” He pressed his face against Maggie’s hair again. “I came here for her, and I’m going to leave here with her, or else you can just bury us together. Give us matching deathbeds.”

Maggie’s crying intensified. Jase felt his heart wrenching, mixing with his anger into some vile, righteous poison that burned through him. He didn’t have a clean enough shot.

“Put them down or I shoot her, and then stand here with a grin while you shoot me,” said Evan.