Page 101 of Kings Have No Mercy

There’s no more time to waste sitting around as Velma boasts about how deeply she’s betrayed everyone.

I don’t have many options. Mason and the other Kings are embroiled with the Hellrazors at this very moment, and there’s a group of men waiting outside the motel door.

So, I make a rash decision on the spot, to go down with a fight.

I launch myself out of my chair and surprise the hell out of Velma with my fist. I’ve never been a big fighter, but I land my hit on her chin. The cigarette at rest between her lips goes flying. She holds up her arms to fend me off and swings blindly at me. I block her pathetic attempts and shove her, going down on top of her.

We scrap in a chaotic blur of slaps, punches, hair-pulling, scratching, and even biting. Our fight gets lowdown and dirty by the time Velma’s grabbing my hand and sinking her teeth into my palm.

“ARGH!” I howl in throbbing pain. I retaliate by swinging back my other palm and connecting hard across her cheek.

We’re grunting out and grappling when the motel room door flies open. I’m yanked off Velma, though whoever it is doesn’t set me back on my feet. They wrap their thick arms around my torso and haul me off like I’m a piece of furniture to be moved.

I scream, kick, throw my arms in wild punches. But it’s no use.

The room’s filled with the Road Reapers that were waiting outside all along.

“Let me go, you assholes!” I scream, thrashing in the arms of the man who holds me. “I SAID LET ME GO!”

Nobody listens. I’m ignored as I’m carried out the room and Velma’s helped up off the floor.

I’m thrown into the back of a truck. Velma and the men pile in up front and the engine starts.

I push myself up on my hands and knees as we start to move. My stomach bottoms out at the sight of the Traveler’s Lodge—and then eventually Wheaton altogether—sinking out of view.

29

MASON

“Pick up your phone,Syd. Pick up your fucking phone,” I growl in increasing frustration. It goes to voicemail after a couple rings. “Fuck! FUCK!”

Frustration bubbles over into a volcanic eruption. I hurl my phone across the room ’til it smacks into the wall and then set off searching for any clues I can find. Her things are still here, suggesting she left in a hurry.

She didn’t even take herpurse, a must for most women. Though her phone’s gone.

The smell of rain has wandered into the small motel room, but the stench of cigarette smoke refuses to be outdone—I can smell it the deeper into the room I go.

Sydney doesn’t smoke. Where the hell did this cigarette smell come from?

There’s an overturned chair in the back. The table that goes with it has been knocked sideways. Definite signs of a struggle, but between Sydney and who else?

“Shit,” I swear under my breath. I grab Sydney’s purse and flee from the motel.

At this point in the night, the storm’s let up, and the rain has weakened into a drizzle. The air’s cooler than most summer nights, though haunted by the far-off sounds of sirens. The cops must still be raiding the Hellrazors bar.

My mind’s buzzing as I hop on my bike and get the hell out of there.

It couldn’t have been the Hellrazors that took Sydney… could it?

Most of their major players were at the bar tonight, but what if there’s something I’m missing? It’s possible Dirty Harry somehow got word of our attack and then launched a counter effort. He sent some guys to snatch up Sydney.

…but we killed a hell of a lot of Hellrazors tonight. So many, their numbers have probably dropped by a third.

I speed the entire way between Wheaton and Pulsboro. It takes me under two hours. Dawn spills onto the sky by the time I’m pulling up outside the Steel Saloon. The crew’s waited up for me. They’re posted up in the bar when I enter.

“What took your ass so long?” Bush asks. “We were just talking about coming to get you.”

“Especially with the cops out,” adds Moses. “Last thing we need would be them coming at us with problems.”

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