Page 67 of Sweet Revenge for the Bikers

I turn away from him, watching the landscape pass by, searing every dead tree and jagged rock into my memory, knowing they’re some of the last things I’m going to see.

35

MAD DOG

Is that a dust cloud up ahead? I squint, but it’s hard to tell. I point.

Riptide must have sharper eyes than me, since he gives me a thumbs up. Fuck, have we done it? The road is narrower now. It’s been dirt for miles, the kind of terrain that’ll swallow a body whole, feeding it to the local wildlife and leaving nothing but bones.

If Melody’s dead, Clutch is gonna beg for death by the time the club is done with him. If by some miracle she’s alive, it’ll be the same, but probably faster. He’s gonna wish he never lived.

But Melody comes first.

We’re close when it becomes obvious that the car has noticed us. It weaves and a moment later, a gun points out from the left back seat window.

Fuck. I veer right, keeping an eye on the side of the road. If my tires hit loose dirt it would be fucking disastrous at this speed.

Rebel draws his iron, but after a moment, packs it away again. There’s nothing we can shoot at that couldn’t potentially hurt Melody in the process. Just gotta hope we get an opportunity after. Based on the GPS, this road’s about to end. Only way out is coming back this way, and they’ll be stuck. I signal for us to ease back and let the car run ahead. Not so far we don’t see it, but outta practical gun range.

And then it’s just a matter of running them down like persistence hunters.

The road starts to twist and turn, probably following the landscape, but it’s hard to tell in the dwindling light. And then the road widens into a plot large enough to park a few cars and still turn around comfortably. Some kind of utility building with paint flaking off and a broken antenna on top sits to one side. There’s a sign on it, but most of it’s faded. Something about environmental… research maybe? Doesn’t fucking matter. What matters is that Clutch has nowhere left to fucking run.

We skid to a stop at the edge of the lot, getting off our bikes and taking what cover we can. There isn’t much. A couple of tree stumps from when they cleared the spot and a power transformer that looks like it hasn’t done ten watts of work in at least ten years.

The car starts turning, but the moment it comes around to face us and three guns pointing at it, it stops. I don’t know the fucker in the front seat, but the two people in the back I recognize immediately.

I can’t shoot anyone yet, but we’ve got them.

“Let Melody go, and we might let you fuckers live. Don’t, and no one’s gonna find your bodies ever again,” Rebel yells as loud as he can. “This is your only fucking warning.”

“Let us go, and Melody lives. How’s that for a fucking counteroffer?” Clutch’s voice yells from the back of the car, followed by a scream.

Fuck.

“Trust me, Clutch, you do not wanna fucking test us on this.”

Honestly, the last thing I expect is for the guy in the front seat to dive into the back, crowding Melody and Clutch, but he does.

There are grunts and a shriek in there as the car shakes. The driver side back door opens and out tumbles Clutch with a frustrated yell, rolling right out into the open like a present for us. “Motherfucker!” he yells and then he sees us aiming our guns at him. “Fuck, don’t shoot.”

I smile, but it’s far from fucking friendly. Rare for us to get a gift bag like that. “Lie still, and we won’t.”

Riptide yells at the car. “Hey, generic goon number four thousand and three! Let her go, and we’ll let you walk outta here. We just want the girl back, and that fucker on the ground isn’t worth dying for.”

“I swear, it wasn’t personal,” Clutch whimpers. Not so tough when he’s got a gun pointed at him.

“It’s always fucking personal,” Rebel snarls. “Fuck you.”

The passenger door on the other side slams open like it’s been kicked. Melody sobs audibly, and then she’s the first one out, with her hands on her head and the goon right behind her. He’s got a gun right up against her spine. “Guns down, or I fucking execute her right here. You want to know anything? I’ll tell you. Just let me go.”

“Who the fuck are you?” Riptide asks.

“I’m the guy who had to listen to him rant like a lunatic for the last hour.”

I almost feel bad for him. “We’re after your boss. Give us the girl, and you can fuck off. You’re not worth the trouble. If you start walking now, you might find a house by morning.” I gesture at the road behind me with a tip of my head.

“You’re fucking lying.”