I release the hold and start throwing punches. One to the jaw. One to the ribs. One more to the face for good measure.
Behind me, Jax is beating the hell out of the other guy. The stick cracks against bone. Against muscle. The guy’s trying to fight back, but Jax isn’t letting him.
Callum touches my shoulder and pulls me back before I go too far.
He flips the guy onto his stomach and starts wrapping hockey tape around his wrists. Then his ankles. Tight enough that he’s not going anywhere.
Jax drags the second guy over. Callum tapes him up too.
We gag them both with Jax’s spare socks from his bag and haul them into the back of Callum’s car.
Callum looks toward Tigerlily’s house in the distance and flips it off.
“Flip off the cameras,” he says, out of breath.
Jax and I turn toward the house. Both of us raise our middle fingers.
Callum laughs, then he climbs into the driver’s seat.
We shove one guy into the passenger seat. Jax and I get in the back with the other between us.
“Whoo!” Callum shouts as he pulls onto the road. “Where the fuck are we going, boys?”
I slap the cheek of the asshole next to me. “Funny how the tables turned, huh?” I look at the guy in the front. “You boys are in for it tonight.”
Callum drives like a maniac down the freeway, swerving between lanes, pushing a hundred.
“Where’s your boss?” Callum mocks. “He’s not here to give you orders anymore, is he?”
The guy in the passenger seat starts thrashing when Callum pulls off the freeway. When the car slows down, the guy tries to open the door. The light turns red ahead, and no one’s behind us.
I catch his shoulder and slap his face. “Don’t fucking think about—”
But he’s already got the door open.
He falls out onto the road.
The back wheel runs over him.
“Fuck!” I shout.
Callum slams the brakes. We all jump out.
The guy’s on the pavement, groaning, clutching his leg, but there’s no blood. Fuck.
“You piece of fucking shit!” Callum yells.
Jax grabs him by the arms. I grab his legs. We haul him to the trunk and throw him inside.
I sit freely in the backseat now. Jax takes the passenger seat.
Callum gets back in and drives off, screaming, “Fuck!”
He doesn’t slow down until we reach Morris Reservoir in the mountains. When we find a lookout point, he pulls over.
We yank the guy out of the trunk. He’s barely conscious. Some blood from the road rash on his arms.
“This fucking idiot,” Callum shouts.
