“Sit down and shut up or get the hell out!” Rene called out. “The sheriff’s department is on the way.”
A few men continued to shove, half-heartedly, while others gathered their friends and hurried toward the door.
Simon made for the back storeroom. Before he reached the door, the waitress he knew as Danny ran out, her eyes wild. “Help! Someone help! A man grabbed Holly and carried her out the back door!”
Chapter 11
Simon rushed past Danny, blew through the storeroom and out the delivery door of the Crawdad Hole.
A truck spun gravel up as it shot out of the parking lot.
Bikers mounted their motorcycles, the engines raising a deafening roar in the night air.
Even if he could get to his truck, Simon wouldn’t make it out of the parking lot with all five hundred motorcycles leaving at the same time.
“Dude,” a voice called out over the roar. “Get on the back. I’ll get you there.”
The man who’d called himself Mace pulled up beside him on a shiny black Harley Davidson.
With no better option and the truck carrying Holly getting further away by the second, Simon slung his leg over the back seat, grabbed hold of the man’s leather jacket and held on.
Mace zigzagged through the mass exodus of motorcycles. He drove down into a shallow ditch and back up to get around the slow-moving procession and back onto the road, less clogged by cyclists eager to leave before the sheriff arrived.
Mace gunned the throttle, sending the motorcycle shooting forward, passing others in a flash.
Simon leaned around the big guy, searching the road ahead until he finally spotted the taillights of the truck he hoped had Holly inside. “There!” he shouted over the roar of the engine and pointed at the truck.
Mace leaned forward, pushing the motorcycle as fast as it would go.
Without a helmet with a face shield, Simon squinted against the wind and the bugs inherent in the Louisiana night sky.
He remembered this part of the highway would come to a T intersection not much further ahead. The truck’s brake lights lit up.
There.
The kidnappers had to slow down to turn right or left.
Mace zoomed forward, closing the distance between them and the truck.
The truck turned right.
Before reaching the intersection, Mace left the road, dipped down into the ditch and back up onto a gravel patch. Simon held on for dear life as they went back into a ditch and up onto the highway, arriving alongside the bed of the truck.
The driver didn’t appear to notice because of the commotion in the passenger seat.
A man held Holly as she kicked and fought to free herself from his grip.
Anger burned through Simon. “Get me closer,” he called out.
Mace drove to within a foot of the truck bed.
Simon braced his hands on the big guy’s shoulders and pushed himself up to get his feet on the seat.
Ahead, the road curved. He had to go now or miss his chance.
Simon leaped from the back of the motorcycle into the bed of the truck, landing on his hands and knees among an array of junk and tools.
Mace dropped back behind them, keeping pace.
