Dizzy glanced at Paul, then looked back at Samuel and Terry. “I don’t see that we’re gonna be able to have a sit and a chat with each one and find out what they did or didn’t know. And we’re gonna be endin’ their Pres, they may not care much for us after that anyways.”
At the last Dizzy looked hard at Paul, but Paul met his eyes and didn’t flinch.
Fletch’s gruff voice interrupted the silence. “What about the rest of the Tails? Any that aren’t at the motel, at least. I don’t give a shit if they knew what their Pres was settin’ up or not. They’ve been a thorn in our side for a long time. I don’t wanna be lookin’ over my shoulder at Texas no more.”
Samuel leaned back in his chair. “They’re gone. I’ve already made a call to Eduardo. He’s in that neck of the woods. He can take care of that while we’re busy here. I don’t want them comin’ after us.”
Samuel looked around the table. “I like Dizzy’s plan. Anyone got anythin’ to add to that?”
Everyone shook their heads.
“Good. Let’s go get our girl back.”
~o0o~
Paul drove the van to the motel. Samuel and Terry were in the back, their hands tied behind their backs. They weren’t actually tied all that securely, but the knots would stand up to a brief scrutiny. They had given their guns to Dizzy and Chiz and were armed only with knives hidden in their boots. If anyone patted them down thoroughly, the blades would be found and taken. Paul had both his guns and three knives, only one of which was visible. They were going to have to take their chances quickly and were relying on the probability of being in a small, cramped space.
Paul had twisted his fears for Ashleigh, his hatred for Jimmy in and Spike and his regret at the disappointment of his brothers into an icy cold concentration. His world was in hyper-focus, all the dim lights were a little bit brighter, and the low noises a little bit louder. Whatever happened tonight, however it happened, Jimmy and Spike would die for laying hands on his girl. If they’d hurt her, he’d kill them all over again in the afterlife; it was looking like he’d be following them there soon enough.
Dizzy, Chiz and Crash would be using their experience to take out the Rabids as quickly and as silently as possible. Elvis had mentioned to Paul during the course of the day that they were the only people staying on one side of the motel, he’d been joking about no unfortunate residents having to listen to Travis’ snoring. They didn’t have time to undertake any better reconnaissance for themselves.
Paul parked the van in front of the row of rooms that included room number eight. He couldn’t see them, but he knew that Dizzy, Chiz and Crash were out there, waiting for Paul to take Samuel and Terry to the door of the room before they started working their way through the block. Sinatra and Tag were somewhere, too; Paul couldn’t see them either. They would be watching to see which room they were taken to, if they were taken to another room, when they demanded to see Ashleigh.
Paul paused before he opened the door. There was a vehicle parked at the end of the row of bikes that he hadn’t been expecting to see.
“There’s a police cruiser here.”
Terry’s outraged voice came from the behind the seats. “That piece of shit Hooper!”
“Yeah.” Samuel’s voice agreed. “You pay a man and he’s available to be bought by anyone. Someone must’ve topped our contribution to his pension fund. Don’t matter. Let’s do this thing.”
In the darkness of the van, Paul unzipped his hoodie, giving him easier access to the gun in the holster at his side. He had left his kutte at the clubhouse; he was coming in as a traitor, not as a patch. He shoved open the van door and slammed it shut hard behind him. Any small distraction was a good thing. He opened the rear doors and manhandled Samuel and Terry out. They couldn’t take the risk that they weren’t being watched by unfriendly eyes as well. He pushed them in front of him as far as the door to room number eight, which opened as they approached. Paul couldn’t see who had opened it. He took a deep breath and shoved Samuel and Terry through, hoping that no one opened fire straight off the bat. It’s what he would have done if he were doing this for real. The night remained mercifully silent as he followed them through.
Spike, Jimmy and Chief Hooper stood waiting for them. Stretched out on one of the beds was a man smoking a cigarette and who looked to be in need of several decent meals and a shower. It was Shank, Spike’s SAA. Paul didn’t know the man well, but as long as he’d known who he was, Shank had always looked like a man with a serious drug habit. As far as Paul knew the man was clean, but he reeked of depravity. The door closed behind them and Paul turned to see that it was Giles that had granted them entry. Five on three, and all the five had guns. Things were not looking good.