Page 113 of Wrong Side of the Tracks

* * *

Hawk could tell something was wrong. He was on the roof of the Powder House, lying on his stomach, watching the situation in the center courtyard below. After Eagle spoke to the Black Jacks Road Captain, they both returned to their presidents with the terms of the parley.

Now Acid and Nine were standing a few feet apart, talking. They each had two men behind them. Twitch and Eagle protected Acid, but Hawk didn’t know Nine’s guards. None of them were armed, but that didn’t mean the situation was any less deadly. Through his own scope, he’d seen at least six armed Black Jacks hidden in the woods beyond the compound’s walls.

Nine waved his arms toward the motel, and Acid crossed his arms over his chest. Twitch and Eagle looked up, toward the roof of the Powder House, toward Hawk.

“Fuck this.” He left his post and hurried down from the roof. He met Thor in the hallway leading to the chapel. “What is wrong?”

Thor took the rifle from Hawk’s shoulder. “There’s a problem. Nine wants the ring.”

Relief spiraled through Hawk’s body, and he leaned his shoulder against the door. “Nine doesn’t want Izzy?”

He didn’t care that they didn’t have the ring. As long as Izzy was safe—even though he wasn’t exactly sure where she was—everything would be okay.

“Not exactly.” Thor crossed his arms over his chest and studied the floor. “He wants totradeIzzy for the ring. If he doesn’t get the ring, he’ll kill her because her father lifted the bounty.”

Hawk shook his head to clear his spinning thoughts. “Wait. Do you mean NinehasIzzy?”

Now Thor looked toward the hall window. “I’m not sure how, but he has her in custody. And he believes, for some strange reason, that we must have the ring.”

“You meanImust have the ring?”

Thor release a long, loud breath. “Brother, if you have it, you have to give it up. Nine won’t just go away, and he has more men than we realized.”

“I know.” Hawk moved to the window which overlooked the most remote side of the compound. “I’m telling you the truth. I don’t have that ring. Trust me, if I did I’d trade it in a heartbeat to save the woman I love.”

Thor stood next to him and gripped his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

Hawk ground his back molars as he tried to figure a way out of this mess. “Is going out there, guns blazing, still on the table?”

“No.” Thor pointed out the window, toward the deserted road that led back into town. “The police presence has increased. They’re just waiting for us to fuck up and arrest us.”

“Why don’t they arrest the Black Jacks?”

“Because they want all of us. We can’t fuck this up.” Thor shook his head. “I mean, look at all those blue and red flashing lights. It’s like a damn parade of cops out there.”

“Thor, give me the rifle scope.” Hawk held out his hand. When Thor gave him the scope, he held it up to see the police activity. Besides local cop cars, and county sheriff cars, he saw six black sedans. That could only mean one thing. “I think we have even more company.”

Thor took the scope and took a look. “Who?”

“Feds. And it looks like they’re coming for all of us.”

* * *

Izzy kept kicking the van’s back door from the inside. She lay on her back, and kicked over and over again, for what felt like an hour. She had no idea if the Black Jacks were ignoring her or had left her alone to die of dehydration in the van. When her legs tired, she rolled to her side. She wasn’t embarrassed that tears streamed down her face. She just wanted to get out and see Hawk again.

She struggled to sit up, and in the process the flashlight in her back pocket cracked. It took some maneuvering, but she was able to pull it out and break apart the plastic case. When she found a piece sharp enough, she tried to cut the tape around her wrists. Her fingers cramped as she awkwardly sawed the tape, and she had to give up when her hands went numb. She pressed her shoulder against the side of the vehicle and moved closer to the van door. Once she had enough leverage, she kicked again and again and again. Then she screamed for what felt like hours.

She stopped when her voice became hoarse and her feet stung from all the kicking. Her mouth felt gritty and dry, and she had to use the bathroom. She shifted her body to alleviate a cramp in her shoulders—until she rolled over something sharp on the floor that cut her arm. She rolled again and felt another stabbing pain.

It was a metal screw that had lost its nut.

She moved until her hands found the screw and attacked the tape that bound her wrists. It was hard, painful work because she was cutting skin as well as tape. But she didn’t care.

Finally, the tape broke and her hands were free. This time, instead of kicking the van door, she pounded it with her fists. On the third hit, the doors swung open and she fell out. She landed on the dirt, on her face, and an agonizing pain shot through her nose and her cheeks. Her mouth filled with dirt, and her hair, which had come loose, obscured part of her vision.

Someone helped her up, but she kicked and fought and scratched—until the female voice she recognized as Agent Miller said, “It’s okay, Isolde. You’re safe now.”

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