Page 17 of Steel Trap
“Shut the fuck up. We have company.” Camacho sounded both annoyed and nervous.
Smith dug his heels in. He didn’t want to be put inside a vehicle. He elbowed the man holding him and twisted free, ignoringthe curses aimed his way. He ripped off the blindfold and found himself face to face with Hatchet, Crow, Teddy and Rogue still astride their bikes. They were arrayed in a semi-circle, blocking the gates. Smith was impressed with how intimidating they looked. He blinked at the sawn-off shotguns Teddy and Rogue held. Crow’s throwing knives glinted in his hands, poised and ready. Hatchet’s revolverpeeked from its shoulder holster. Smith moved to one side. The drug dealers seemed to have forgotten him as they faced off with The Wyverns.
Hatchet revved his engine then put his kickstand down. He turned off the ignition and dismounted before taking a couple of steps toward the dealers.
“Which one of you ladies is Camacho?”
“Who the fuck’s asking?” One of the gunmen spat out the questionalong with a spray of saliva.
“Your new buyers.” Hatchet grinned. “That is, if you want to keep your asses out of the pen.” He swiveled to face Smith. “This piece of shit is in with the Feds.”
“You’re The Wyverns. I’m Camacho. Your reputation precedes you.”
Smith backed toward the gate.
“Freeze, sunshine.” Hatchet gestured and Teddy and Crow began to circle Smith on their bikes, penning himin. The noise and dust they created had to be drawing attention.
“You can’t take his word over mine,” Smith protested.
Hatchet drew out a sizeable knife and used it to clean the dirt from beneath his fingernails. “He got in the way of a gun deal on the border last month. He’s a dead man walking.”
Camacho’s men might have had their guns out but they couldn’t decide which target to aim at. Roguehad his shotgun pointed at Camacho’s head. He was smiling.
“Time to make a decision. We can take your product or not but either way, I want his head.” Hatchet gestured at Smith with the serrated blade of his knife.
Smith wished he had a better idea of what might happen next. He didn’t have to act being afraid. The whole situation was out of his control, and it was terrifying. He had no ideahow Rogue managed to look as if he’d like nothing more than to shoot someone yet still seem relaxed. Hatchet could easily get a movie role as a psychotic serial killer, the way he was handling that knife. Layered over Smith’s fear was a gossamer film of lust. He decided to worry about that reaction some other time.
The sudden wail of sirens split the air and strobing blue flashes illuminatedthe night. Hatchet gave an exaggerated sigh.
“What did I tell ya?” He slid the knife into his boot before drawing his gun. “Decision time, Camacho.”
Camacho and his goons were already heading for the car. “You want in? Ditch the bike and get in the car.”
For Smith, everything switched to slow motion. Surrounded by rusting hulks, dust clouds edged in blue light swirled around him. The muzzleflash of Hatchet’s gun was blinding. Then he was flying backward. The impact to his chest took his breath away. He hit the dirt hard, skidding a few feet before coming to rest in a crumpled heap with his head pressed against something metallic. His moan wasn’t faked. He bit down on the small blood bag concealed in his cheek and let the liquid squeeze from between his lips. He closed his eyes andkept as still as possible.
“Deal with the garbage.” That was Hatchet’s voice. A car door slammed then a vehicle pulled away with a squeal of rubber, spraying grit over Smith’s face. The crunch of footsteps stopped near his head.
“You alive, Smith?”
Smith opened his eyes and coughed dust. “Maybe?” Rogue loomed over him, holding out a hand. Smith grabbed it and was hauled to his feet. He staggered,trying to catch his breath.
“That was a close-range shot. Must have hurt like a sonofabitch.” Rogue rested his shotgun on his shoulder. “You’ve lost some skin too but we need to get you outta here before the locals finish their donuts and get their asses in gear.”
“I heard sirens…” Smith gave his battered skull a rub.
“That was me.” Adrian appeared from behind his cruiser. “I’m your ride.”He turned to Rogue. “Hatchet’s bike will be impounded, but I’ve arranged for the paperwork to go missing. He’ll be able to pick it up in a couple of days.”
“Good.” Rogue straddled his bike. “We need to get going.” Teddy and Crow got into formation behind him, Teddy pausing to give Adrian an X-rated kiss. “The sheriff’s gonna take you to Wyvern’s HQ, Smith. Don’t move from there ‘til we get there.”
Smith wanted to protest but he was too tired and sore to argue. “Take care.” His voice cracked.
“Well, shit, Smith, is there a heart beating in there after all?” Rogue gave him a mock-salute before riding away with the others close on his wheel.
“Apparently, there is,” Smith whispered. “I just hope it doesn’t get broken before the night’s out.”
* * * *
The only good thing about beingblindfolded in a car full of drug runners was knowing the cloth had most recently been wrapped around Smith’s pretty eyes. Camacho had relieved Hatchet of his weapons but left Hatchet’s phone in his pocket, which he took as a good sign. Hatchet already knew where he was going so he sat back and tried to relax, but it was impossible to get Smith out of his mind. He thought the bullet had hit truebut seeing Smith propelled through the air, then skidding across the ground, had made his stomach knot. There had been no time to check on him but Hatchet trusted Adrian to do his part.
