“We can improvise. Anyone got any jumper cables on their bikes?” Shade asks.
“If they don’t, I’ve got a set in the garage. I’ve also got two ATVs and three dirt bikes if anyone wants to use them to round Jennings up,” I offer.
“Fuck yes!” Indiana whisper-shouts, causing my ears to ring.
“Keys are in the ignition, go for it,” I reply.
The once quiet night air is now submerged with the sound of revving engines. With my night goggles in place, I watch with satisfaction as Jennings rushes from one hiding spot to another. The guys are whooping and hollering as they kick up the mud and ride around in circles, pushing Jennings closer to the middle so we can corral him. My earpiece is ladened down with laughter as the rest of us observers watch him scurry around like a rat trapped in a maze.
“Marsten on standby, Nova?” Riptide asks.
“He’s not far away with a team he trusts. They’re waiting on word from us to step in so they can take him into custody,” I apprise him.
“Good. When they book him, I want that motherfucker seeing ghosts around every corner,” Riptide enlightens me. “I don’t want him to have a moment of peace.”
I laugh before saying, “After this, he won’t.”
“Alright boys, playtime is over, let’s force him to expose himself so we can round him up and call it a night,” Riptide commands. “The Feds are only going to be patient for so long before they come charging in.”
Without verbally answering, the guys tighten their circle around Jennings and push him to the center. When there’s nowhere left for him to run, he spins around taking in the fact that he’s surrounded and drops to the ground, landing on his knees, defeat showing in his slumped shoulders.
“This is boring,” Icer complains. “I expected more of a fight out of him than this.”
“He’s damaged goods, brother,” I say, coming up on his side and slapping his shoulder. “I think the fucker’s given up. This was his Hail Mary and he lost.”
“Indiana, pat him down. We don’t want any surprises,” Slayer orders.
Indiana skips over to Jennings, looking smug. “I’m not a woman, motherfucker. Think you could take me on?”
“Fuck. You,” Jennings sputters, spit flying from his cracked and chapped lips.
“No thanks, I don’t swing that way. Even if I did, it wouldn’t be with you. You’re too damn ugly, I’d have to put a bag over your face,” Indiana taunts.
“It wasn’t an offer, asshole,” Jennings retorts.
“Huh. It sounded like an offer,” Indiana says, disputing Jennings’ claim. “Did it sound like an offer to y’all?” There are hums of agreement and a few gags from the brothers, myself included.
“A disgusting one,” LoneStar claims. “You stink, Jennings. How long has it been since you took a shower?”
“Call Marsten in, Nova. We did our part,” Riptide edicts.
“Yeah, the sooner this fucker is off my land the easier I’ll feel,” I reply, shooting off the text that’ll bring in Marsten and his troops.
“Did y’all do that to his leg?” Marsten asks as soon as Jennings is tucked into the back of the cruiser.
“Nope. He was damaged goods before he got here,” I inform him. “How sure are we that he’s not going to get out on bail? Is the evidence rock solid?”
“It is,” Marsten replies. “While your men were chasing him down and leading him here, I was gathering evidence and cleaning house. His brother is no longer in the bureau, he didn’t cover his tracks as well as he thought he did. Their entire family is evil, Nova. He changed his name and buried any ties to them, but I uncovered them all. His uncle was a serial killer, his mother was a black widow, and his grandfather should’ve been the star of every horror film ever made. Their gene pool is founded in blood. The entire line should be decimated.”
I take offense to that because Chaney and Freyja don’t deserve to be put in the same category as the rest of them. “Blood doesn’t make you evil, Marsten. I’m not going to get into the entire nature versus nurture debate with you, but the girls, they’re nothing like Jennings and his relatives.” Not wanting to hear what vile thing will come out of his mouth next, I swivel on my feet and walk away before I do something that’ll land me in jail. “You should be ashamed of yourself,” I toss over my shoulder as I breach the house.
I’m done with this idiot and his bullshit. It’s time to move the fuck on.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-EIGHT
FREYJA
