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CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

JARED

Sitting in my car, watching and waiting, I could feel it in my gut. That mother fucker Agent fucking Nobel was slimy, and he was always up in my business asking questions, and yet here he is down the back of a casino, getting fucking paid, for what exactly I don’t fucking know, but whatever it is, I bet it leads back to fucking Eugene. I wait for the other guy to leave, then I wait as Nobel walks back to his car, too busy smiling and counting the fucking notes in that brown envelope he’s just been given to see me.

I slam my foot down on the gas and speed towards him. He turns around at the last minute, his eyes going wide before he starts running, but I’m already on him. I slam my brakes on, and as I hit him, he collides with the bumper. His body slides up the hood of the car, then he crashes to the ground with a thud. I jump out of the car and round the hood, grabbing Nobel by the scruff of his jacket and slam him onto the hood of my car. I wrap my hand around his throat as he coughs and splutters, baring his palms in surrender.

“I know nothing!” he blurts out.

“I didn’t even fucking ask you anything,” I growl.

“I swear Jared, it was just an extra payday. All I had to do was get them there, that’s all,” he splutters.

I tighten my grip on his throat. “Get who where?!” I seethe.

“The lawyer,” he breathes. “The Black Hearts lawyer. I swear, I had no idea she would be with his woman.”

I slam my fist into his face, making him cry out. “Fucking who and where?!” I roar.

“Ghost’s woman. I set a road-block up on Hetland Road just outside of town,” he whimpers. “Here, take the money.” His shaking hand reached out, offering me the envelope.

“I don’t want your fucking money, asshole!” I spit, dropping him to the ground. I quickly turn and jump in my car, speeding off, hoping I fucking make it to them in time. I speed through the town, busy swerving in and out of traffic as I grab my cell and hit call.

“Hello?” a woman answers.

“I need Ghost!” I yell. “Get me fucking Ghost on the phone right now. It’s urgent,” I demand. Cars blare their horns at me as I cut them up.

“Er, you’re on speaker,” she states, her voice full of worry.

“Ghost, he’s going for her. I’m on my way now. The fucker has set up a road-block. I don’t know what the fucker’s going to do, but I’m about two minutes out,” I state.

“Jared. Fuck, where are you? Get to her, man. Just fucking get to her,” Ghost pleads, his voice rough with emotion.

“I’m on Hetland,” I state. Pausing, I see the truck up ahead, but all the doors are open and no one else is in sight. “Fuck!” I bark, slamming my fist on the steering wheel.

“What is it?” Ghost asks. I hear the rumble of bikes, and I know they are heading this way.

I screech to a stop and jump out of the car. “They’re gone,” I mutter, feeling my heart thumping in my chest. “The lawyer and Star are gone,” I confirm. A deep groan catches my attention, and I spin around, seeing Rage slumped next to a nearby tree. “Rage,” I mutter, moving towards him. “He’s been shot,” I state, dropping to the floor next to him.

He looks at me, holding his side. “Fuckers took them. Shot me. But I got their fucking hand,” Rage says with a bloody grin, holding up someone’s hand.

“Come on, let’s get you in my car,” I state, helping him to his feet. I seat him in the back of my car and run to the boot and grab the first aid kit we have to carry. I chuck it at him, then hop in the driver’s seat. “Ghost, I don’t know where—” I begin, but Rage cuts me off in the back.

“Greenfield’s Ranch,” Rage breathes out.

“What?” I ask, turning around to face him.

“Greenfield’s Ranch. They thought they had killed me.” He coughs out a laugh.

“You catch that?” I ask Ghost.

“Yeah, on our way. Get that fucker to the hospital, then meet us there,” he growls down the line before disconnecting.

“Don’t fucking die. I’m taking you to the hospital,” I yell to Rage over my shoulder as I pull off.

“I ain’t dying, and I ain’t going to any mother fucking hospital. Fucking drive to the ranch,” he grits out. I look briefly over my shoulder to see him taping up the wound at his side.

“You’ve been fucking shot,” I argue.

“Listen to me, pig. I ain’t going to no hospital. I ain’t going nowhere but that fucking ranch to fight alongside my fucking brothers. I don’t listen to cops, and I ain’t about to fucking start now just because you handed me a fucking bandage!” Rage snaps, waving the first aid kit in the air.

I shake my head. “You’re a fucking crazy son of a bitch.”

“Thank you, now put your fucking foot down,” Rage barks.

“Just don’t get blood on my fucking seats,” I sigh as I increase my speed.