The moment my shoes touched the parking lot, I began to run. I didn’t know where I was, and I didn’t care. I just knew that I had to get as far away from the motel as I could, as fast as I could, and the direction didn’t matter.
I ran, phone in one hand and gun in the other, until I was gasping for breath. As I stumbled to a halt, I shoved the gun between my waistband and my hip and pulled my shirt over it. As I bent at the waist, trying to catch my breath, I touched the keypad on the phone, thanking god that it wasn’t a smart phone that could be easily locked.
I dialed Cain’s number, then sucked in a great lungful of air and stood up straight. The phone rang and rang, and I prayed he would answer. When it went to voicemail I whimpered, hung up, and dialed it again as I began to walk.
Once again the call went to voicemail, and once again, I hung up and then redialed the number. I knew it was karma for not answering Cain’s frantic attempts to get in touch with me after the shooting at The Claw.
I entered the restaurant on the corner and sat down where I could see the door and tried the phone again.
“Cain!” he snarled after a few rings.
“Cain! It’s Alex! I—”
“Alex! Thank God! Where are you? Are you okay?” he shouted. Before I could answer I heard a man roar in pain in the background. “Stop! Stop! Quiet! I have her on the phone!” he screamed to someone before he came back on the line with me. “Where are you?”
“I’m at the corner of Denton and Ayers. There is a restaurant there called Sweetpea’s.”
“Denton and Ayers,” Cain said to someone. “Where is that? Is that in Dallas?” he asked me.
“Yes.”
“Got it. Fuck…you’re right smack in the middle of Bulls territory. Go in the restaurant and find a seat where you can see the door. If you see anyone riding a black Harley with a grey bull head painted on the tank, you get the hell out of there, okay? We’re coming as fast as we can, but it’s going to take a little time to get there. You are all the way across town and we may run into trouble.”
“Should I call the cops?”
“No! We’re coming. Just don’t move. I need five guys! I’m going for Alex!” Cain yelled, clearly talking to someone else. “We’re coming, Alex! Sit tight!” he said before he canceled the call.
As the waitress saunters over I slump down in the booth. “What can I getcha to drink?” she asked as she slid a menu and a glass of water in front of me.
I didn’t have a cent on me, and I was too terrified to eat anyway. “Just water.”
“Okay. I’ll be back to check on you in a few minutes.”
I picked up the menu like I was reading it, peeking over the top. I saw a black motorcycle, then another, race by, but I couldn’t tell if there were bulls painted on the tanks.
A few minutes later the waitress strolled up. “Know what you want?”
I was in a bind, but I was sure Cain would cover me when he showed up. “Just the burger plate and fries,” I mumbled as she wrote.
She held out her hand for the menu. “Got it.”
I didn’t want to let the menu go, but I handed it to her and she turned to walk away.
It didn’t take long for the meal to arrive. It smelled good, but I had no appetite and every time the door opened, my heart nearly stopped. I nibbled at the burger, drawing out my meal as I prayed that Cain would arrive soon.
As I watched the door, I saw black motorcycles racing back and forth in the street. Some were two up, with a woman on the back, others solo. Twenty minutes after I arrived at Sweetpea’s, a motorcycle stopped at the curb and a man and woman dismounted. I continued to chew my burger, keeping my head down, but watching the door from under my brow. The two, I had to assume Bulls, walked away from the bike in opposite directions.
The man and woman were clearly looking for me, and I debated bolting, but before I could make up my mind, the door opened and the man entered and looked around. I slowly leaned over onto my left hip and slipped the weapon from inside my pants and tucked it under my right leg.
The man turned and went into the other room first, then returned to the room I was seated in. He made it only three steps in before he saw me. As recognition dawned on his face I pulled the chrome revolver from under my leg and pointed it at him. I had shot my gun all of about five times in the two years that I had owned it. It stayed in the bedside table drawer most of the time, but the handgun I held, though a lot bigger and heavier than mine, was enough like my own weapon that I knew how to work it.
“That’s far enough,” I said as I slid out of the booth, the gun still pointed at the man, the few other customers staring at me with slack jawed amazement or panic.
“We’re going to kill you, you bitch,” the man snarled.
“Not today, you’re not,” I sneered, trying to keep up the brave face as I began to step backwards.
“You’re not going to shoot me,” he said as he took a step toward me.
I saw the woman that was on the bike with him step into the restaurant and immediately pull out her phone. It was about to get real and I tightened my finger on the trigger. “Not one more step,” I warned as I took another step back.
He paused, and I took another step back, but when he stepped forward again, I squeezed the trigger, causing the gun to roar. I didn’t know what kind of gun it was, but it packed a hell of a lot more punch than my little revolver did as the recoil tried to tear the gun from my hand. The man was so close that I couldn’t miss, and he went down hard, the glass behind him shattering and every person in the place screaming and ducking.
I stood for a moment in mute amazement that I had actually shot someone, before I turned and ran. More Bulls would be arriving soon and I didn’t want to take the chance that they would come in with guns blazing.
I hit the emergency exit at a full run, the buzzer sounding as I banged through the door. I turned right and pounded around the end of the building. I looked behind me to see the woman giving chase.
I had a substantial lead her, and she was a lot heavier than I was, and I was beginning to pull away from her, my legs fueled by my panic. I tried to jump some hedges, didn’t make it, and fell with a tumbling roll. I bounded back to my feet, grabbed the gun again and ran, not even feeling the fall.
I heard the bellow of several motorcycles behind me and I turned. Four bikes were charging across the parking lot toward me. As they skidded to a stop, I whirled and brought the gun up. Three guys, one of whom I recognized as the thug I smashed over the head, and Sloane dismount. Two of the guys pulled their guns and pointed them at me as Sloane drew her razor.
“I’m going to fuck you good, now,” Sloane snarled as she flicked the razor open.
“Take one step and I’ll kill you!” I screamed, my hands shaking so badly I could barely hold the gun.
“It’s four against one, you stupid bitch. You can’t win.”
“Who wants to die first, then?” I screamed, thrusting the weapon in their direction. Before they could answer, I heard several pops in the distance. All our heads turned in the direction of the gunfire.
“Kill —” Sloane began.
I squeezed the trigger the moment she spoke and the man in the middle screamed as he dropped. I was aiming for his chest, but I had hit him in the crotch. I turned and ran toward the gunshots as the other goon open fired, but I was a moving target and after a moment, the shooting stopped. I circled back around toward Sweetpea’s, literally running for my life. I popped out on Ayres as I saw six motorcycles around the corner, charging hard in my directions. I turned and ran toward them, praying it was Cain and not more Bulls.
I recognized Cain just as he skidded to a stop, his bike falling in a crash as he leapt from it. I ran toward him, gasping in effort and fear.
“Get down!” he screamed as his weapon came up. I slowed as fast as I could then dropped as six guns bellowed. When it was quiet, I uncovered my head and looked behind me. Three bodies were on the ground, riddled with gunshots. I surged to my feet, dropping the gun, and ran to Cain, throwing myself into his arms.