Sons of Mayhem 2 Chaser (Sons of Mayhem Novels, #2) (18 page)

“He was going to get them all put in jail—” I began to say.

“How was he going to manage that?” Bottle’s words interrupted me before I could finish.

“He filmed the burning down of the motel. He was watching us. He was going to hand that over to the sheriff. Get ‘em arrested for Tony’s murder too.”

“No shit? That asshole was there the whole time? Fuck, we could have got him then.”

“I guess. He was hiding off in the brush somewhere. Doubt we could have spotted him.”

I heard Bottle mutter something under his breath. I guess he was pissed at how close we’d gotten to him.

“So he’s going to come and kill us huh? Got any bright ideas?”

I let out a soft laugh. “Nope.” What could we do? That asshole was bigger than us, stronger than us
and
he had a gun. I was beat up and Bottle was tied up. Shit. We didn’t have a hope, did we? “You?”

“Nope. Just a dumb idea.”

I sighed. That didn’t sound too promising. “A dumb idea is better than no idea. Spit it out.”

I listened as Bottle explained what he had in mind.

He was right. It was a dumb idea. But hey, nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?

K
aren

“Are you sure you don’t want me to try and sweet talk my way back into his good books?” I asked.

“Do you really think that would work?”

I sighed. “No.”

“Well then. We’ll try it my way.”

Asshole. I didn’t see how the hell this stupid idea could work. It was school playground stuff. But what choice did we have?

“Here he comes,” whispered Bottle from the floor below me. The door of the house had just swung shut with a soft thunk. “You ready?”

I shrugged. He couldn’t see my gesture, of course. “Sure.”

I felt a small surge of excitement as we heard his stomping boots approaching. Maybe it could work? Maybe it wasn’t such a stupid idea after all.

My muscles were tense as I held myself like a coiled spring, ready to explode. I was to the left hand side of the door as he would come in. Bottle was to the right.

The idea was simple, when Dewey entered the room I would charge at him, trying to push him or knock him to the side where Bottle lay, literally, in wait. It didn’t matter if he grabbed me or hit me, all I had to do was push him.

Just like the old school playground trick of curling up in a ball behind your victim while an accomplice pushed them from the front sending them toppling backward, we would try and do the same to Dewey. I’d push him, or force him back and he would then trip over Bottle on the floor.

Then, if things went smoothly, we’d go to town on him. He’d be disoriented by the fall, and, even though he was tied up, hopefully Bottle would be able to do some damage. And I’d stomp all over his stupid pretty face.

That was the plan. Cool huh?

But like everything else in my life, this plan turned to shit.

“Yoo hoo. How are you doing in there?”

I tensed by the door, waiting for him to come in.

“Not talking huh? You’ve probably got your mouth full of greasy biker dick, don’t you slut?”

I wanted to stab the motherfucker in the eyes.

“I can’t believe you did this to us, you know. I don’t know why I waited for you all those years. I should have realized back in high school what a worthless piece of shit you were. I could do so much better.”

Fuck, I wanted to yell something back. But I didn’t want to give away my position right by the door. Not yet.

“I waited, and waited, and waited. And then this. You roll over and let a biker club run a train on you. You disgust me, Karen.
Disgust. Me.
”

There was so much I wanted to blurt out, to yell, to scream at the fuckhead. How could he say those things? Was he really living in such a fucked up fantasy land in his head that he actually believed them, I wondered.

“No last words? No final goodbye?”

Last words? Fuck. I looked down at Bottle but it was too dark to make out his face.

“I
know
you’re still in there.” There was a sound of fingers rapping on glass. “Night vision goggles. It’s like the shitty wooden walls aren’t even there.”

What? Night vision glasses? Uh-oh.

“I can see you both by the door.” He paused a moment as if considering something. “Oh. Oh no.” He began to giggle. “You weren’t—” His giggle turned into full on laughter. “You—”, he couldn’t finish his sentence. For what seemed like an hour, but was probably only twenty seconds or so he laughed hysterically, an occasional
slap
sounding out as he smacked himself on the thigh in amusement. He finally regained control.

“You weren’t actually going to try something were you? You weren’t going to try to jump me, were you?”

I clenched my jaw and gritted my teeth. Hard. Fuck.

“You were, weren’t you? I bet that was Bottle’s idea, wasn’t it? Surely you’re not dumb enough to think that would work, are you, Karen? No, of course not. It was the dumb little motorbike man. Broom broom went the gears in his head. ‘I’ve got a good idea, let’s jump Dewey! He’ll
never
see that coming. Oh no. How clever I am.’” He giggled again when he finished his taunt.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“That is
hilarious
. I’m sorry to break it to you two love-sluts, but I’m not coming in there.” His voice turned cold. “And you’re not coming out.”

There was a sound of liquid sloshing outside, and I heard Dewey moving around the outside of the shed.

“I heard you guys like fires. So I’ve got something special just for you.”

A moment later I truly began to panic when the smell hit. He was throwing gasoline all over the shed.

Bottle finally whispered, “That’s gas!”

“No shit, Sherlock,” I whispered back.

“Fuck,” he said.

“Fuck,” I agreed.

Dewey was planning to burn us alive.

G
auge

Gauge raised a fist high into the air so the two guys behind him could see. The clenched fist signaled them to stop. They were there. Gauge had led them to the dusty track that was the access road to the old abandoned ranch where Karen, Bottle and Red were being held.

Gauge parked his motorcycle directly in the middle of the track facing forward. He held an arm out on either side of him, indicating to Twist and T-Bone to park next to him, completely blocking the path.

The roars of the motorcycle engines stopped abruptly as they pulled up alongside Gauge and killed their engines. For a moment silence reigned.

“Alright, T-Bone, get up on that ridge. If the fucker comes down this way have at him. Preferably
before
he hits the bikes.”

To the side of the track the ground headed up sharply to a ridge about fifteen feet above. It would give T-Bone a decent firing position, and, just as importantly meant that he didn’t have to move too far. While T-Bone had a lot of good attributes physical fitness wasn’t one of them.

“Got it.”

“What about me?” asked Twist

Gauge looked at the younger man and gave a wicked grin. “You’re with me. We’re going for a run.”

“What?”

“It’s 1.2 miles from here to where they’re holed up. We ain’t got time for a stroll.”

Twist looked at his motorcycle. “No riding?”

Gauge shook his head. “No riding.”

“We’re sneaking up on them, I guess.”

Gauge nodded. “You’re brighter than you look.”

Twist grinned at the compliment, though it was obvious he still wasn’t pleased about having to run.

“Alright let’s roll out. Good luck.”

T-Bone nodded, his beard bouncing off his stained t-shirt as he did so. “Good luck brothers.” He held up a gloved hand and a moment later clenched hands with first Gauge, then Twist.

“Go Team Badass!” said Twist.

Gauge tilted his head and looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “Team Badass?”

T-Bone let out a throaty chuckle. “It’s got a ring to it...”

The retired soldier shook his head and let out a low laugh. “Let’s do this.” He thumped Twist on the arm. “Go Team Badass.” He headed off at a trot.

––––––––

S
ix minutes later Gauge stopped, and a moment after the panting young man beside him let out a relieved gasp.

“I’m dying.”

“No you’re not. You’re just weak.”

Twist’s only response was sucking in another deep lungful of air.

“Keep it down with the heavy breathing. I’m not your girlfriend and I’m
not
giving you a handjob.”

The younger man grinned and tried to bring his breathing under control. “What...” he gasped, “now?”

“Now we try and sneak up on this motherfucker and take him down before he even knows we’re there. And if he gets away, T-Bone will take him out.”

“Sneak up on him? That’s weak sauce...”

Gauge gave him a cold look. “The fuck you say?”

“Nothing.”

“Good. That’s what I fucking hope you said. This ain’t one of your bullshit movies. We don’t fuck around when lives are on the line. We take motherfuckers the fuck
out
. So we sneak up on them. Got it?”

Twist nodded. “Got it.”

Gauge led them off the track into the brush beyond. While no longer running, he moved swiftly as he led them away from the direct line of site of the house. If someone was actively looking for them they would be spotted, but this time they had the element of surprise. Dewey wouldn’t see them coming at all.

After a few minutes detour they were now heading toward a large shed which blocked the view of the main house. By heading there they would be able to get very close to the main building without being spotted.

Gauge half-ran and half-trotted through the brush, the younger man behind just about keeping up, but breathing louder than he would have liked.

Suddenly Gauge stopped, and a moment later his follower thudded into him.

“Sorry,” said Twist.

“Get down,” said Gauge as he simultaneously pulled at Twist’s shoulder giving him no choice in the matter. Up ahead a man — the infamous Dewey he guessed —  had appeared alongside the shed, and was now walking along it emptying the contents of a can as he did so.

“Shit, that’s gas,” hissed Twist.

“Good sleuthing, Holmes,” rasped Gauge.

“What do we do?”

“Shut up and let me think.”

Gauge watched as the man circled around three sides of the shed before disappearing from view again.

“We’re going to get closer. Then you get that shed open, no matter how hot it’s burning. Shoot the lock or whatever you have to do. I’m guessing our boys are inside. I’ll go after the fuckhead and bring him down.”

“Got it.”

Gauge turned and gave him a serious look. “Don’t fuck this up. Get that shed fucking open. Let’s do this.”

Twist nodded and reached behind him to where his gun was tucked into the back of his belt. As he pulled it out, the first wisps of smoke could be seen ahead and the sound of laughter rolled toward them. “Don’t worry,” said Twist, “I got this.”

Gauge worried.

G
auge

Gauge ran through the brush toward the shed. There was no point in sneaking around now, speed was of the essence if Twist was going to have a chance of getting the shed door open before it was too hot too approach. And Gauge was keen to get his hands on the asshole who’d been fucking them around the last few days.

His legs burned as he ran, every step sinking slightly in the sandy dirt. He loved it. With the adrenaline flowing and a target to hit it was like the old days again. Even the aching legs were something he’d missed - after years of torturous training and missions he’d grown to love the pain of pushing his body to the limit.

He was only fifty yards away from the shed when Dewey came in to view. Deciding to admire his handiwork from a more pleasing angle he had stepped around to the side of the shed. Dewey’s eyes went wide when he saw the furious form of Gauge rapidly bearing down on him, Twist not far behind.

“Shit!” the deranged fire-starter blurted out.

“I’ll give you shit!” roared Gauge as he watched Dewey turn tail and start to run.

For a moment Gauge considered grabbing his gun from his side and taking a shot at Dewey. He’d probably  — no, definitely — hit him at this range. But where’s the fun in that?

There was only forty yards between them, he thought, he’ll run him down shortly and take him to the floor the old-fashioned way - body to body. Dewey disappeared from view again around the side of the now burning shed and the chance to shoot him was gone.

Gauge’s legs pumped furiously and he grinned in grim excitement as he rounded the corner. To his surprise, the distance between him and Dewey had increased. The fucker was fast. Faster than Gauge in fact.

“Shit,” he muttered. While he had prided himself on his physical fitness — he could still run 10 miles with a heavy pack — he wasn’t that much of a sprinter. Dewey had to be twenty years younger than him and it showed. He was getting away.

“Fuck.” A few yards further on and the car came into view. Parked on the side of the house was a Toyota sedan with a rental license plate, and Dewey had just about reached it.

Gauge stopped, panting, as he grabbed the Beretta from his belt. As he got into a firing stance Dewey was already diving into the car, and a moment later the door was closed behind him.

Gauge could no longer see his target, and the car started as he took a shot, aiming at where he thought Dewey would be. The car shot forward.

“Fuck!” shouted Gauge. Dewey was getting away. Gauge aimed again and fired five more times at the disappearing car. Every bullet struck the vehicle, but it didn’t slow down. It’d be up to T-Bone and their very expensive roadblock to stop him now.

He turned to look at the shed. Twist was throwing himself at the door, which wasn’t yet burning - though most of the rest of the structure was.

Gauge started sprinting back toward the shed.

“Move!” he yelled.

Twist just about got out of the way before Gauge launched his heavy body at the door, sending it flying inward. He crashed into the ground inside the shed on top of something surprisingly soft.