“A seat warmer?” Max put in.
“Fuck off,” Gunner grumbled.
The four of us were on deck to watch the Hawthorne border and had pulled off to the side of the road, looking out for anything or anyone that was unfamiliar. There was one main road in and out of Hawthorne. Unless someone was coming in on foot, it was relatively easy to patrol.
“What are the girls doing?” Gunner asked, blowing on his hands. It was a colder than normal night and I was glad for my leather jacket as I glanced his way.
“Francesca, Wren, and Liv are all at the club. I think Emmie’s headed over there after her shift at the hospital,” I added meaningfully. We all knew he had a thing for her. Why he hadn’t acted on it was a mystery.
“Wren loves your girl, man,” Max told me. “Can’t stop talking about her.”
“I’m glad.” I nodded. “She hasn’t had many friends. She deserves that.”
“You think Stephanie’s gonna be a problem?” he wanted to know. I’d shared about the run-in we’d had with her the previous day.
“Don’t know. Hope not,” I replied. “She is, she won’t be living here much longer.”
I received collective nods of agreement from my brothers.
“Headlights,” Cash pointed out, spitting out his ever-present toothpick, his gaze on the road.
This time of night there wasn’t much traffic coming into town. We could typically identify the locals and their cars at a glance. In the unusual event we couldn’t, the locals were used to us checking things out and were quick to cooperate.
“Don’t recognize this one,” Gunner noted as the black sedan came into view. The once peaceful night air was suddenly filled with the roar of our bikes as we simultaneously started our engines. We pulled onto the road, following the car. If it was a local, they’d pull over. When this one sped up instead, adrenaline coursed through my veins. Something more sinister was likely at play.
Cash and Gunner took the right rear bumper while Max and I took the left in a natural move that spoke of years of working together as a team. Max drew his bike close enough to pound on the side of the car in a warning to pull over.
The answering crack of gunfire had us falling back instantly, swerving to avoid being hit. I pointed my gun, aiming for the rear wheel. The explosion of rubber had the car careening out of control as more gunfire erupted from it.
The four of us responded in kind, firing as the car continued its spin before landing sideways in the ditch at the side of the road, smoke billowing from its hood.
“Hang back,” I ordered as the four of us sat astride our bikes, our weapons pointed at the car in deadly anticipation.
“Fuck,” Gunner cursed.
I looked over, finding him clutching his arm, blood seeping through his fingers. “Fucker hit me,” he gritted out.
“Can you ride?” Cash demanded. At Gunner’s nod he continued, “Ride back to the club. We’ll take care of this.”
“Fuck that,” Gunner scoffed. “Just a flesh wound.” He shrugged. “I’ve had worse. No way I’m missing out on this shit.”
There wasn’t much Gunner took seriously; I wasn’t surprised a gunshot wound was no exception. Really, there was only one exception: Emmie.
“You bleed out on me, I’m gonna be pissed,” Cash replied, his gaze trained on the smoking vehicle.
“Don’t get your panties in a twist, Walker,” Gunner snorted.
“Can we fucking focus?” Max growled as a horn began to blare from the car, signifying the person inside had likely collapsed on top of it.
“Fucker’s dead,” Cash surmised.
“Maybe.” I grunted, not ready to let down my guard. We killed our engines, the drone of the horn the only sound after the chaos that had preceded it. When the passenger side door opened and someone stumbled out, we got off our bikes, weapons pointed at the staggering figure. The man coughed, clambering out of the ditch before collapsing onto the road.
“Anyone else in the car?” I shouted from across the road.
“Just Lenny, he’s dead,” the man wheezed as Max and Cash flanked my approach. Gunner banked wide, prepared to take the driver side.
“Drop your weapon,” I ordered harshly as we approached, now close enough to see the bloom of red spreading across the man’s chest.
