Never Kiss an Outlaw(45)

It worked. Dust bent his head, put one hand across the wound in his throat, and looked the bastard straight in the eye.

“You ain't giving any orders here,” Prez rasped. “I am. Joker, Firefly, go get their fuckin' guns. Then make sure they get their asses off of our property.”

I moved. None of the Torches stopped us as I caught up with the Veep. We headed for the garages, where the boys had an old drag racer missing its wheels up on blocks, a tarp draped over it. Joker looked at me, nodded, and we both grabbed opposite corners.

Ripped the tarp right off. There, through the missing windows, were several familiar black crates stacked high.

“Let's get this shit loaded in their truck.” Joker spoke like we were doing a damned chore, rather than narrowly saving this club's ass.

We had to move our asses. Couldn't think about the risk, the danger, or the Prez bleeding all over the fuckin' ground after the cut he'd taken.

Everything moved on autopilot after that. Small miracle I swallowed the urge to rip every one of those fucks with the rival colors apart, soaking the glowing torches sewn on their cuts in their own dirty blood.

When everybody saw the Veep and me carrying their crates, the whole atmosphere relaxed. Just barely.

Prez leaned against the wall, still covering his throat, blood drying on his hands as fresh red soaked through.

“Put them down,” he said, his voice getting weaker by the second. “Let these fuckers take their shit to the trucks.”

We did. Red Beard nodded, and a few of his burly brothers picked the crates up, disappearing through the gate from our view.

“We're not leaving 'til we check this shit over,” he growled at Dust. “Not 'til we find out where Jimmy's little bitch has gone, neither.”

“Already told you, we don't have a fuckin' clue. She ain't our problem. We've had this alliance for fighting the Deads, sharing intel, doing deals. That's all shot to shit now. Consider it dissolved and get the fuck out. We're done here.”

There was a long pause. I kept one hand on my nine, ready to blow Red's brains out and start a shooting war if he so much as took another step toward Dust with that blade in one hand.

Prez was hurt. Fucking incredible he could just stand there like the stone cold bastard he was, bleeding out his neck, staring all these mean motherfuckers down with his life oozing outta him.

“He right, Prez?” The one named Rawdog looked at their leader, and I noticed one of his eyes was just glass.

“Yeah. For today.” Red Beard turned his back and started walking, pushing past me with two of his boys flanking him. The rest trailed behind them.#p#分页标题#e#

I took several steps toward the Prez, and froze when I heard the Torches stop by the gate and shout.

“Nice doing business with you pricks! We'll be doing our homework, fuckers, and don't you forget it. If I find out you've been lying about that bitch who scurried off or anything else, you will see us again. Don't give a shit if it means killing some Deads along the way. We'd rather have an army of crazy fuckers breathing down our necks rather than friends like you.” He stopped, looked me dead in the eye, and let a mean smile twist his lips. “Shit, looks like the reaper's breathing down his neck. Better get that boy a tourniquet, or else I'll be busting somebody else's balls next time I come back.”

Asshole. I formed fists so hard my fucking knuckles cracked. Blinked my eyes, just staring through the redness, 'til they were gone.

Nobody moved 'til we heard their engines roar. Then everybody ran toward Dust. I got to him first.

Prez halfway collapsed. I took over where he'd left off, squeezing one hand against his throat, feeling hot blood gushing against my fingers.

“Oh, fuck.” I looked up, staring at Skin and Joker. “We gotta get him the fuck outta here. He's been bleeding like this for at least five minutes. Poor bastard must've lost a fuckin' gallon by now.”

I looked down. The dirty red puddle beneath my boots said it was no exaggeration.

“Joker. Firefly. You boys...you're taking the lead now. Hold the club together while I try to un-fuck myself. I...” Prez tried to talk more, but his eyes rolled back in his head.

Shit. Fuck.

“Fuck trying to drive him. We need Laynie out here now, dammit!” I barked orders.

“On it.” Joker had his burner phone out, dialing her number.

Meanwhile, the prospects tore off their shirts, ripping them into neat strips so we could try to stop the bleeding. Behind us, we heard laughter, the rumble of the last few Torches' bikes.

Rage flashed red on Skin's face when we heard the fence surrounding our garage get bowled over. The whole crew of fuckers must've flattened it on the way out, judging by the rattle.