“Yeah, I’m not gonna do that. But what Iamgonna do is drag that pretty ass back to my house so we can have a proper conversation about why we don’t steal things.”
“Decker, I?—”
The deep growl of a man’s voice somewhere far off makes me pause. “Who are you with? And why are you whispering?”
“Shit,” she murmurs. There’s crackling. A loud bang. The thump of feet hitting the ground. Of yelling.Menyelling.
My nerves spark, my stomach jolting. “Grace?”
When she responds, she’s out of breath, voice shaky. Scared. “I’m… I’m sorry Linc. I’m?—”
More shuffling. More voices.
“Gracie?” I yell.
She screams, then the call goes dead.
My pulse ratchets up, hands shaking, adrenaline rushing through my veins. Not the anger that I’m so used to pressing down. Another sensation entirely. Fear.
I dial her back as I press the gas pedal to the floor. I’m sent straight to voicemail. Jaw clenched tight, I fly down the road towards her.
It’s them.
The Road Raiders have come back to South Bay.
I’m still minutes away. Too far. It’s taking too fucking long.
As I finally approach, I kill my lights and slow. I park a few hundred metres away and then hop the wire fencing at the edge of the farm and race through the field, ignoring the burn in my lungs as the white farmhouse comes into focus.
Ducking, I pull my gun from the back of my pants and slowly edge the fencing, squinting in hopes that I can make out what’s happening through the boarded-up windows. The lights are on inside. There’s movement. Bodies. Three, maybe. No, four. Though the cluster of motorcycles parked at the back of the house tell me there’s more.
I tug my mask up and over my mouth and nose. Squeeze my fingers around the grip of my gun. Feel for the knife tucked into my boot. This could play out in a million ways. I could runin through the back door, guns blazing. But then I risk hurting Grace or catching a bullet. If I go through the front, I can’t guarantee that old failing porch will hold my weight. The upper windows, maybe, if I could climb the side of the house without being seen, but then?—
The cold barrel of a gun presses to my temple, and I go still.
“What do we have here?” a man says, his face too damn close to mine.
The distinct clack of metal on metal sounds in my ear. A gun getting ready to blow my fucking brains out. My heart stops. Feet shuffle behind me.
“Nice and easy. Let’s get those hands up, fucker.”
I… know that voice. “Tex?”
“Uh. Yeah?”
Shoulders relaxing, I yank down my mask and whirl around. There’s a gun in my face, but rather than look at it, I lock eyes with the man holding it. Shoulder-length dark blond hair, leather cut with the wordSinnerembroidered at the front.
“Decker?” He lowers his piece. There’s movement in my periphery, and Preacher slips out from the tall overgrowth.
“You scared the hell out of me,” I say as a rush of air flows from my lungs.
Preacher angles his head, giving me a hard stare. “What are you doing here?”
“Police business is on a need-to-know,” I say with a smile.
“Yeah? You forget what team you’re playing for tonight?” Tex nods, gesturing to my mask. Then his focus drops to my gun. The one that’s definitelynotmy police issued weapon.
“Axe send you?”
