Page 126 of Tied to You
Today might be the day I don’t come back from it. If my decision to have Sparky meet us there leads to fucking this up, I don’t think I could ever forgive myself.
The club won’t forgive me.
Pulling in, we’re immediately hit with destruction. Just how we chose to go for them, they do the same to us. Multiple Saviours appear up ahead, to my left and my right. We’re outnumbered. I can’t count their fucking bikes, but I see more than the four we have.
Tearing the gun from the inside pocket of my cut, I aim at no one, shooting what bullets I have. I refuse to leave here until we know where Chopper is. I saw Dean’s face when he called. We’ve got to find him.
I manage to keep riding, one hand on the throttle, the other shooting. I ride straight to one of the cunts standing with a gun aimed at me. I don’t care when he fires, hitting the front of my bike. It only makes me ride harder.
Clattering into him, the bike jolts with a bang. I’m surprised I don’t go down. When I turn, I realise I’m all out of bullets. Fuck. My bike is the only thing I have going for me right now. I jam back the throttle until she’s choking, doing the same again. Like a moving target they can’t ignore, I manage to draw the attention away from Dean, Skitz and Mop, charging like a fucking bull in a China shop, mowing them down.
There’s a crack of a gun and I’m thrown forward, the bullet hitting me on the right shoulder. Adrenaline masks the pain, but I feel my clothesinstantly soaking up blood. Shit. We need to stop them fucking sharpish before one of us ends up getting killed.
Turning again, I see two more of them lying flat on the ground.
Dean’s following my lead, using the size of his bike as a shield whilst riding into and around them. Together, we kick up enough dust, disorientating those who are still shooting.
We buy just enough time for Mop to take out two more from his spot, ducked behind his bike. Then he starts waving frantically.
I slow down, realising we’ve managed to get them all. “Where the fuck’s Chopper?” I shout at Dean, clutching at my now throbbing shoulder. Pulling my fingers away, I see the tips dripping crimson. It’s not as bad as it feels.
“Find him!”
Dismounting, we head in different directions, checking both tunnels. I take the north side of one, my eyes frantically searching each vehicle. I didn’t see his bike out front, but if he found out he was that outnumbered, here would be the best place to hide. It’s what I would do. Buy myself some time before I could get out and fight back.
Not looking where I’m going, I’m hit on the side of the head by a leather boot, only it’s gentle. It doesn’t hurt like it should. Then I spot the sole of the boot at eye level.
Fear paralyses me. Blind terror immobilises my every limb. For the first time in my life, I’m scared to look. I fear I know what I’m going to find, but I can’t feel anything. It’s unnerving. Horrifying. The stuff of fucking nightmares.
“Travis what the…” My eyes find Dean. He isn’t looking at me. He’s looking at what I’m stood directly underneath. “No. No. No, no, no, no, fucking, Christ. No!” He hurries over. “Fuck!” His voice cracks. Anguish and fear overtaking him. “Help me!”
I slowly turn, two jean clad legs filling my vision. Jamming my eyes closed, a fresh swell of anger begins to rise.
“Travis!”
My eyes spring open. Watching Dean, I manage to hold Chopper’s legs as he climbs on the hood of the car, wildly cutting at the rope suspending Chopper’s body. How the fuck did they do this in such little time? We got here as fast as we could.
The rope frays, and the snap of it giving way means Chopper’s bodylands in my arms. My hands tremble, my shoulder ablaze with a roaring pain. Looking down at his purpled face, his lips have swollen, his eyes have bulged. My stomach twists so violently, I heave.
Dean looks at Chopper’s body. Unlike me, he quivers for a different reason. I’ve seen it time and time again. Resentment. Anger. Blackness. Before I can tell him not to go, he’s walking away, unable to see past the rage now festering inside him.
Mop comes running into the tunnel, brushing past Dean as he makes his exit.
I look at him, my eyes pleading for some fucking help.
He sees, coming to my side, one hand on my shoulder as he crouches beside me. “You’re bleeding, brother.”
“I don’t care,” I tell him honestly. This is my fault. Thirty centimetres to the left, and the bullet would have hit where it should.
“We need to get him out of here.”
“I don’t think I can.” Fuck. Why do I sound so fucking weak?
“You’re not alone, brother. We can do this together.”
I look up, realising Mop’s already got him in his arms.
Standing with him, my mind jaded, I follow his lead like an empty vessel. Nomads must have got a call from Rocco. The van pulls up as we step out of the tunnel. I’m caught. I don’t want Chopper’s body in the back with dead Saviours. He doesn’t deserve that. But I realise we have no choice.
