Chapter Thirty-Eight

 

RYAN

 

I don't know if they'll find me here. I don't know if there's any place they won't find me. It's not as if my address is a closely-guarded secret. It wouldn't take long to find one of my guys, and then they've probably had, I dunno, a beer there, something like that.

So I don't doubt for a second that they can find my house. They found Logan's easy enough.

The motel might be safe, but I don't feel confident. So instead I'm sitting in a Rest Stop off the interstate, my bike shoved in between a couple of long-haul rigs that look particularly inconspicuous, and the phone in my hand has been ringing for a long time with nobody answering on the other end of it.

I hang up and press redial to call Davis again. She doesn't answer again. I'm so completely fucked, and I can't think straight. I need to get in touch with her yesterday.

But, it seems, that's not going to be an option. I'm on my own, like it or not. I have to slow things down and get clear. Someone else. I don't have the guns or the strategy to take down three people at once, never mind the entire Crazy Horse heavy squad.

No doubt there's a dozen or more guys going around, packing heat you could never get away with if the law didn't look the other way. They will look the other way, though, because it's easier than having a gunfight on their hands, and both sides know it.

So now I have to accept that it's no longer a question of winning in a fair fight. Who can I call in? Spider had dealt with the low-level stuff so much that it's hard to think of someone really reliable I can call in.

Rob Green is dead. Spider's dead. Logan's gone, and Davis's not answering her God damned phone. I hate to get him involved in this, but a name comes into mind.

Brian won't refuse. He won't be happy, of course. He never wanted to get involved in any of this, but the violence was always the biggest sticking point. Otherwise he'd be right there with us.

I shouldn't get him involved. It's the difference between life or death for him, maybe. It's an unnecessary risk, and it pulls at my guilt that I know he won't refuse, because he would never refuse his brother's request. Not if it was important, and this is.

If he had a choice, if he were to put thought into it, I'd be fine with it. But he won't. It will be out the door, right away, no question. I suck in a breath and try to cool my head. I can't call him. I can't. It would be wrong.

The call to Davis doesn't go through again. I don't know why I'm surprised at this point. The last five didn't go through. Why would this one?

I stare at my phone as the screen blinks that the call has ended. I know who I have to call, but I don't want to. He isn't involved in this, and I want to keep it that way.

With a great deal of reluctance I jab the screen and move over to the contacts, scroll down, and press the call button.

It rings twice before Brian picks up, but he picks it up. He's never failed to before, not in all my life. Not once.

"What's up?"

"Brian, I'm in trouble."

He takes a long time to answer.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Bad trouble."

There's a long silence. I can feel the time stretching out in front of me.

"Yeah, I was just going to call you, Ryan."

Something in his voice shoots a shiver down my spine in spite of the hot sun beating down on me.

"Brian?"

"What?"

"Is everything okay?"

Another long, long pause. Another shock down my spine. The hair on my arms is standing on end, and the breeze blowing across my skin feels like agony.

"Can you come here, Ryan?"

It's a trap, and I know it. He doesn't sound like he wants me to come at all, but he's not about to try to get himself shot, and I don't blame him one damn bit.

"I'm on my way."

He's never been involved in the business because he doesn't want to do any of that kind of shit. Brian came here because I asked him to, but he's straight. He's always been straight.

None of that ever mattered if I needed him. If I needed to talk about the business, if I needed advice, if I needed another hand to help out with something—I kept it clean for him, but whenever I needed him, he was right there, and now he needed me.

It's a trap, and I know it's a trap, but not going doesn't cross my mind for an instant.

The bike's still there when I get back to it. So is one of the drivers I parked beside, and he doesn't look happy. Worse than that, though, is that he seems to recognize me when I walk up. I don't recognize him, though. When he reaches for his hip, it doesn't take a genius to realize what's happening. I duck behind the trailer and start circling around.

The only hope I have at this point is to make sure that I get to him before he can figure out how to blow my brains out. To say it's going to be a struggle is a bit of an understatement, but he doesn't look like muscle.

He just looks like a driver, one who's been told that I'm dangerous and that if he sees me, they'll protect him if he takes me out. I don't doubt that they will protect him.

That's if he takes me out, though. They're not going to protect him from what's going to come down on his head for trying and failing. If I were feeling charitable, I might let him go, but I'm not. I don't have the luxury.

I slip around the other side. He's got the door open, so I can't see his head or his body, but I can see his feet. He's waiting for me on the other side, and he knows I'll be there soon.

An idea crosses my mind. It worked great against me, there's no reason that it can't work now. I take a hard running start and let my shoulder ram into the cab door. It slams partway shut, until it hits an obstruction. The guy's face, I think.

He gets sent sprawling, and I hear his piece skitter across the asphalt. I don't waste time going for the gun, but I don't want to alert anyone by firing a shot, either.

The gun comes down like a hammer on his head and he goes cross-eyed for a second. He's not moving much any more. His attempts to roll over don't seem to be going well, as I reach under the trailer and grab his weapon.

I figure he'll be alright. Mean headache, and maybe a little dental work, but he'll live. He'll live to tell his boss where I was just a few minutes ago, but none of that matters, because she already knows where I'm going.

Heaven help her when I get there, because I don't take threats targeting my brothers lightly. I'll have to get ahold of Davis, and I'll have to do it soon, but the fog is gone. I don't need help figuring a plan any more, because the entire road is laid out in front of me.

Now all I have to do is drive straight into the mouth of hell, and I never needed anyone's help doing that.