CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
T-Bear hadn't forgiven Manda, he'd made that clear.
When Stick had called him into their meeting room earlier that evening and told him they'd found her listening outside the door, T-Bear had given her such a look of betrayal that Manda had nearly thrown herself at his feet and begged him to listen to her side of the story.
Only pride had kept her on her feet—that and concern for Chloe. She needed the Flyers' help, and if she had to face their scary leader and T and all of his friends who now despised her, fine.
The new, tough Manda could do it.
Thus, she'd buried her own hurt, and her feelings for the big ginger eying her like an enemy, and repeated her offer, gazing at the floor instead of him.
If the Flyers would send someone to watch over Chloe and protect her, she'd help them catch the men plotting against them.
They had accepted.
A plan was forged, she made a call to Tim to set up another meet, and now here they were, and it was almost over—she hoped.
"Hey," Pete called. "Where you think you're going, Faro?"
Manda looked around Rocker just as Rezan hit the ground rolling, and disappeared into the darkness beyond the lights. Tim bolted after him.
"Get him!" Stick ordered. "Turn the light—east, east!"
One of the lights swerved, dancing over the eastern end of the warehouse, and the shapes of old packing crates and rubbish.
Rocker wasted no time taking off after Rezan. Manda quickly turned her focus to where T-Bear had disappeared into the darkness.
"Faro's back here!" T-Bear bellowed from beyond the packing crates. A gunshot cracked, incredibly loud in the echoing space.
Manda cried out, and clapped her hands over her mouth, searching for T in the shadows. Oh, God, had he been shot?
Her heart was pounding, adrenaline surging through her so hard she felt as if she could leap through the warehouse after him with a single bound. But he'd told her to stay out of the way, so she would. She didn't want to be responsible for his getting hurt, or losing Rezan.
"Take that, you little fucker," T bellowed. A packing crate rose into the air and toppled with a crash that echoed through the warehouse.
"There he is!" Rocker yelled. "Get him!"
"I'm on him!" T answered. Their footsteps thudded into the distance. "Got him! Fuck, no I don't. He went that way."
"You're not getting out of here, Faro," Stick Vanko called, his deep cold voice echoing through the warehouse. "Give up now, and it'll go easier on you."
Manda gasped as a man scuttled from the shadows, headed for the door. But it wasn't Rezan—it was Tim. He looked terrified, and he was waving a pistol.
Stick Vanko stepped out to face him. "Put the gun down, Garner. No need to die here, which is what'll happen if you fire that thing."
Manda pressed her hands to her mouth. What was he doing? Tim was like a cornered rat, frightened enough to bite anyone, no matter how big
"I'm the one with the gun," Tim said, his voice quavering as he slid along the wall to the door. "You tell all your guys to stand back, or I'll shoot."
A tall shape hit him from the side, whirling him to slam into the warehouse wall. Tim let out a muffled squeal as the gun was twisted from his grasp.
"Guess this little fucker won't be shooting anyone anytime soon," Pete Vanko said with grim satisfaction. He hauled Tim away from the wall and forced him into the middle of the floor. He shook Tim, hard. "You don't aim a weapon at a Flyer, especially Stick Vanko."
Tim's gaze darted about. He found Manda, and his face contorted like a little boy's. "You stupid—what did you do? You told them we'd be here, didn't you? This is all your fault."
Manda shook her head in utter disgust. "I don't know why you thought I'd ever help you, after you abandoned me to Rezan and him." She jerked her chin at Jere, who sprawled awkwardly on the floor where he'd fallen, unconscious.
Tim puffed his chest out, as if even beaten, he couldn't resist the chance to show off in front of these men who were so much stronger, more dangerous than he would ever be.
"I didn't abandon you, dummy. Me and Rezan planned the whole thing. You were just the first."
Manda cocked her hip and set a hand on it. "So you said. Well, the Flyers planned this trap for you guys, with my help. So, who's laughing now, Tim?"
"Preach on," one of the Flyers muttered.
Manda looked at Tim, helpless in the Flyer's grasp, and she lost it. Darting to him, she slapped his face, as hard as she could. When he cursed her, she drew back her foot and kicked him, right in the crotch. With a strangled moan, he collapsed forward, curling into himself on the filthy floor.
"There," she panted, standing over him. "That's what I think of you, and all your stupid, filthy plans. I might not be the smartest person around, but at least I'm not a loser junkie like you."
Tim's only answer was a moan.
"You want to go again?" Stick Vanko asked her dryly. "Or are you done?"
"He's all yours," she said, something bright and fierce blooming inside her—justice. "Do whatever you want with him."
"No," Tim whimpered, craning his neck to peer up at her through his dirty hair. "Manda—baby, don't let 'em hurt me."
She stepped back, her lip curling in disgust at the wreck of the man she'd thought worthy of her loyalty.
"I was never your baby. I thought I was your girlfriend, but we both know how much I meant to you—just a way to pay your debts. So now, Tim? You mean nothing to me.'
'These men rescued me, they've looked out for me, and they—they cared about me when no one else did. So you? They can do whatever they want with you, and Rezan and Jere."
"Well," rumbled T from behind her. "Glad I didn't miss that righteous speech."
Manda whirled to see him smiling at her with a look of savage satisfaction she wouldn't have believed on his usually good-natured face, not if she wasn't seeing it for herself.
"Sure you don't wanna kick him one more time, for old times sake, honey girl?" he asked.
Unaccountably, she smiled back at him. It was a small, crooked effort, but just looking at him made her feel better, stronger. "No, I'm done with him."
"Good, then get yourself back and down, while we get Faro. Then you can kick him too."
"Ain't gonna do nothing with me, 'cause you ain't caught me, bitches," Rezan called mockingly.
They all looked up to see him balancing on one of the cargo containers near the open door. He leapt down, balancing on the balls of his feet, and backed toward the door, a gun in his hand. "And maybe I'll take her with me."
"Oh, no, you don't, Faro." A huge, menacing figure in the lights, T stepped between Manda and Rezan.
Manda watched in horror as Rezan sneered and raised his pistol. "No!" she screamed. "T-Bear!"
She threw herself at T, landing full against his chest and knocking him back a step as he instinctively grabbed for her. The pistol barked, and something struck Manda in the shoulder, sending her jolting against T, who grunted and staggered back another step.
Then a series of quiet pops sounded in quick succession. Rezan screamed, a choked sound.
Manda hardly noticed, staring at her hand on T's shirt. It was wet with blood.
"T! You're hit. He's hit—help him, somebody help him!"
Flyers crowded around them, reaching to support T as he staggered, his massive body sagging sideways and back.
He looked puzzled, his mouth sagging open. "Fuck, think he got me."