Page 35 of Texas Hold Em’ (The Devil’s Luck MC #3)

JAMESON

T he landfill had three exits.

The first, that was set farthest back from the others, had a roundabout way of accessing it and it was for private business trucks that operated disposal businesses in Reno.

The road was accessible from the far side of the landfill, so it required driving about three miles past the site, circling back, and accessing the road from the back.

Which was what I had to do while the others peeled off and took the second entrance.

The third entrance was the one we assumed Bates would use because it was the most direct.

Jackson had pulled me aside before we left Grant’s and let me know that he didn’t want me arriving with the others. He explained that I was supposed to be dead. The last person Bates would expect to roll up on him tonight would be me.

The dead guy.

The guy whose throat his own daughter pressed two fingers to and confirmed without a shadow of a doubt that he in fact had no pulse.

It almost made me smile to think of how surprised they’d all be to see me .

Almost.

I’d agreed to ride in on my own and hang back. Jackson wanted me to be the backup plan. If things didn’t go well, I was to be the guy lying in wait who might stand a chance of getting the upper hand.

With a little luck, our hands wouldn’t be forced.

The shadow of the landfill rose up in front of me and I killed my headlight so I could ride in dark.

I didn’t want to give myself away. I dropped my speed and coasted.

The bike rumbled but not too loud, and when I hit the gravel of the lot, I turned off the engine altogether and used my existing momentum to coast the rest of the way.

The stench was wretched.

I pulled over near some heavy machinery where I could hide in the inky shadows. To my right, a giant dune of garbage blocked out the night sky.

Carrie couldn’t have picked a better place that didn’t stink like the inside of a pig’s asshole?

I pushed my bike forward so the front tire hovered on the edge of shadow provided by the big excavator.

I straddled the seat and leaned forward, draping my forearms over the handlebars.

Out in front of me, the terrain sloped gradually, and several crossroads, all wide and rough and full of potholes, wove patterns between different dumping sites.

It was all pretty spread out, and visibility wasn’t terrible, but there weren’t many places to hide.

I was about to poke out a little farther and see if I could get a better look when I heard someone coming.

Bikes rumbled in the distance, and I knew they weren’t those of the Devil’s Luck.

Less than a minute later, the scene before me suddenly filled with dozens of bikers.

Dozens. I crept backward a little bit, seeking cover in the shadows, and held my breath as the bikes pulled U-turns in the middle of the crossroads and circled back, taking refuge right smack in front of me at the top of the rise.

It made sense. They wanted the advantage of higher ground, which was exactly why I’d picked this spot.

They killed their engines and headlights, and the night went quiet. I wanted to pull out my phone and send a message to Jackson. He needed the heads-up that the bastards were already here and they were lying in wait.

But the light of my phone might give me away. The closest man was a mere fifty or so feet from me, so I held fast, trusting Jackson would know what to do, and he’d have his eyes peeled.

Headlights swung around from behind me. I flinched and ducked down low, but they never landed on me. The large tires of the excavator and its low center of gravity kept me concealed in shadow as Caroline’s white Range Rover came in behind the gang of bikers.

I let out a shaky breath. And so it begins.

Caroline got out of her car. As per usual, she wore a sleek all-black outfit.

For once however, she wasn’t wearing heels.

She wore what looked like construction boots, probably in anticipation of the night’s meeting location, and she wove through the parked bikes while pulling on black gloves.

Up at the front of the pack, she stopped beside the man in the lead and put her hand on his shoulder.

They exchanged words I couldn’t hear, and I silently thanked Miss Bates for revealing which of the pack was her father.

After that, nobody moved. The night went still. Somewhere not too far away, garbage rustled. A man on one of the bikes in the back twisted in his seat and cursed.

“Fucking rats.”

“Face forward,” the man beside him muttered. “The real rats are going to be here any minute. Focus, Sloan.”

Sloan, the guy who didn’t like rats, squinted into the dark place I was hidden. “Do you really think they’re gonna show tonight? They’d have to be fucked in the head to think they could make a stand here.”

The other rolled his shoulders. “Shut up, Sloan. Focus. ”

Sloan never managed to sit still as the minutes ticked by. I knew Jackson and the others would arrive at any second, and I took the risk to pull out my phone. I used my jacket to conceal the illuminated screen and prayed like hell nobody happened to be looking in my direction while I texted.

Bates on high ground. He’ll be at your two o’clock. I’m behind them .

I dumped the phone into my pocket and worried what would happen if Jackson and the others never saw my message. Would they ride right into the nest of Wolverines?

I steeled my resolve. This was the fight we’d expected. This shit ends tonight.

I thought briefly of Carrie’s lips. I thought of her ass against my crotch, her soft giggle, and the way she rolled her eyes when I gave her a hard time, her anger and her sharp tongue and her grit. Soon I’d be back with her. Soon this would all be nothing but a memory.

Whispers rolled through the Wolverines up ahead.

I strained to peer through their bikes and down at the crossroads, and I heard it too—tires rolling over gravel.

Like me, the Devils had killed their engines and coasted the rest of the way in, hoping to make a silent and sneaky approach.

But Bates already had eyes on them, and as I watched he held up an arm, silently ordering his men to hold. To wait.

To wait for what?

The man on the bike beside Bates shifted in his saddle, and it took me a minute to realize what was happening.

He had a gun. Something long range. I couldn’t make it out from where I sat, but my stomach leapt into my throat as he trained his sights on the bike in the lead.

On Jackson.

I knew immediately the man with the gun was Moss. Bates dropped his hand.

“Wait,” I breathed, but it was too late.

The shot split the night in half.

As soon as it went off, all the Wolverines’ bikes roared to life.

Headlights flashed on and illuminated the crossroads down below.

Everything happened in less than two seconds, and as the headlights lit up the scene, I watched in horror as Jackson went down.

His bike slid a good ten feet across the gravel with him pinned under it.

Bates roared for his men to ride. Their bikes kicked up dust and gravel and surged forward down the slope.

Down below, Mason pulled up in front of Jackson, drew a gun from a holster strapped to his gas tank, and fired off six shots in rapid succession.

Four Wolverines went down.

More shots came from behind Mason, who dropped down behind the cover of his own bike and strained to haul Jackson’s up off him. He slid an arm under Jackson’s, dragged him to his feet, and helped him onto his bike.

A bullet sparked off the side of the bike.

Mason roared for Jackson to go, hopped on the back of the bike, and returned fire as the rest of the Devil’s Luck plunged into the fray.

Jackson told me to stay hidden unless I absolutely needed to move. I wasn’t sure if he’d consider this worthy of my involvement, but I didn’t care. I was getting fucking involved.

But I wasn’t going to waste my chance. I had the advantage of perfect cover and the element of surprise. If I just rode out there, I’d give away all my leverage.

So I drew my gun. Bates was within firing range, but I wasn’t nearly the good shot Carrie was. Dimly, I wished she was here, then thought wishing such a thing was batshit.

I closed one eye and trained my sights on the bastard who killed William and Tracy and damn well nearly killed Mason, too. Who’d nearly killed Jackson seconds ago. Who sent men to kill me and Carrie.

“Fucker,” I growled. And pulled the trigger.

The shot was swallowed up by the roar of motorcycle engines and other bullets being fired down below.

But I knew I hit my mark because Bates jerked forward and let out a cry.

Caroline, who stood behind him, whirled around, her white ponytail spinning around her head like a whip.

Moss turned too, and he trained his gun right on the spot where I sat.

But he didn’t fire because he couldn’t fucking see me. So I took another shot as Bates doubled over on his bike.

Caroline started screaming orders. Moss fired a shot at the excavator. It bounced off the metal.

I fired back, and this time I knew I gave away my position.

It didn’t matter, however, because I’d put a bullet in Moss’s thigh, and he dumped his bike with a cry of pain.

His gun fell out of his hands and Caroline drew hers, spinning and trying to seek me out while her father bellowed at her to get him the hell out of there.

Moss struggled to get to his feet. Not so fast, I thought.

I turned on my bike. The headlight momentarily blinded Caroline, who shielded her eyes in the groove of her elbow.

I seized my chance and opened the throttle, racing out from the cover of the shadows and closing the seventy or so feet between us in mere seconds.

Caroline fired off a shot and missed. She panicked, dropped a shoulder, and dragged her father off his bike while screaming at Moss to take me down.

Her voice was so shrill and panicked I could hear it over the roar of my engine.

I gritted my teeth and hunkered down low in the saddle while Moss got to his feet, slung the gun up, and fired.

Fuck.

My windshield shattered. Glass sprayed up into my face. He fired a second shot and the front tire blew. I went over the handlebars and landed hard in the gravel. It bit into my elbows as I landed on my back. My ribs screamed with agony.

Clutching at my side, I rolled onto my stomach. I took shallow breaths and forced myself up onto my hands and knees while Caroline screamed bloody murder that I was supposed to be dead.

Her fear made me grin, and I lifted my head and locked eyes with her.

“Maybe I am dead,” I hissed. “And you’re all next.”