Take Me, Outlaw(81)

“Were you any good at it?”



“Not to brag, but I once shot the eye out of a camel at 700 meters,” Boomer answered.



“I'm happy for you, but not for the camel,” I chuckled. “There are a couple of silenced pistols back in the duffel bag that Ditch is carrying. Grab one for yourself and another for me. Get your tool kit, too.”



Boomer nodded and scuttled down the back of the hill. He came up again three minutes later with the heavy tool kit and the handguns. The cylindrical black silencers nearly doubled the lengths of their barrels. I took one and peered down the sight at the guards.



My phone buzzed and I checked it. A third set of dashes from Nic. I returned them, relieved.



“We're going to have to time this perfectly so none of them have time to return fire,” I told Boomer. “You take the two on the right and I'll take the three on the left. The first drops on the count of one, the second on the count of two, and I'll drop the last one on three. Head shots only. Understood?”



“Yes indeedy,” Boomer replied. He already had his first target sighted.



“Good.” I zeroed in on my first guard. “Ready...and...one.”



Our shots were in perfect unison. The suppressors reduced the noise to the light thud of a door shutting. A hole appeared between the eyes of the first guard. My aim was already moving to the second guard just as he turned and saw the first one drop to the ground.



“Two,” I said.



There was a half-second delay between our shots this time as Boomer took a moment to find his target. My bullet hit the second guard in the back of his head. My aim fell on the third guard as he watched the second die, then looked in our direction. Even through the ski mask, I could see his horrified expression.



“Three,” I said.



I squeezed the trigger just as the third guard stumbled backward. My bullet hit him low in the chest and he hit the ground, raising his automatic rifle at us. I rushed to aim for his head again, but I knew there was no way I could hit him before he pulled the trigger and alerted the others.



Well, that's it, Bard. Pardon me for swearing, but you've just royally shit the bed and failed Nic, Growler, and all the other Reapers who depended on you. The most important shot you ever took and you couldn't even put the bullet where it needed to go.



Before I could shoot, I heard another silenced shot next to me and saw the top of the third guard's head come off in a red mist.



Boomer winked at me. “Guess I forgot which one of us was supposed to shoot the last guy. Stupid of me, right?”



I sighed with relief and clapped Boomer on the shoulder. “Good shooting, Captain. You keep this up, and you might just have a bright future in the armed forces someday.”



Boomer gave a mock salute. “Yes, sir. Kiss my ass, sir.”



“Okay, let's get down there. You funnel the gas leak and I'll watch your back in case anyone comes out.” I turned to the other Reapers. “The rest of you, cover us in case we need to head back here in a hurry. And get the surprise set up. We might need it.”



As I ran down the hill with Boomer, I checked my phone. There were no new texts from Nic.



I prayed that we weren't already too late.





Chapter Thirty-Three



Nic



As I tried to find my way through the maze of concrete hallways, I sent a third text to Bard to let him know I was safe. I got his response a moment later.



I peered into every room I saw to make sure Lauren wasn't in them. A bunch of rooms were filled with Bonaccorso soldiers, most of them wearing ski masks. Some of them were playing cards, while others read newspapers, paced around, or fidgeted with their guns. Most of the rooms were dead quiet. A couple of the Bonaccorsos waved and I waved back, but no one tried to make conversation.



They must be pretty nervous, I thought. That, or Eddie wasn't very popular.



I noticed that the hallways mostly stayed empty. I'd seen three guys leave their rooms so far, but each of them just headed to the nearest bathroom. It looked like a lot of them weren't freely entering and leaving the bunker regularly, and I hoped that meant it would take a while for them to notice Tommy's dead body up near the entrance.



I checked my phone again and saw another text from Bard. “Guards outside dead. Working on causing gas leak. Will let you know.”



I texted back. “Good plan. Good luck.”



I just hope I figure out a way to find Lauren and get her out of here safely before one of these morons lights a cigarette, I thought.



I heard a harsh voice down the hall. “Hey! Asshole!”



Fuck. So much for not being recognized. I turned around.



A short, balding Bonaccorso in wide suspenders marched toward me, jabbing a finger at me angrily. “What the fuck, Eddie? You heard what Big G said about tonight. No fuckin' around on cell phones! We probably got a million goddamn bikers ridin' out here tonight an' the boss wants us focused, not textin' dick pics to bimbos an' playin' stupid games!”



“I'm sorry,” I stammered.



“Don't give me sorry, just give me the fuckin' phone,” he ordered, holding out his hand.



“You're takin' my phone? Seriously?” I asked. If he looks at my texts, I'm fucked. If I don't give him the phone, I'm fucked. If I try to attack him and he screams for help, I'm fucked. Basically, no matter how you look at it...



“Yeah, seriously!” he insisted. “You're not even supposed to have it with you tonight. Now give it here!”



Of all the bad options at that moment, I knew the worst would be to hesitate and make him suspicious. I shrugged and handed my phone over. “Okay, just be careful with it, huh?” I asked, trying to sound plaintive. “I just got it.”



“Yeah, I'll wipe my ass on it, how's that?” he grunted, shoving the phone in his back pocket without looking at it. “Now go find somethin' useful to do.”



I watched him go and sighed with relief. Jesus, I'm not even forty and the way this is going, I'll probably have a goddamn heart attack before the night's over.



Still, now I couldn't let Bard know I was alive and he couldn't let me know when the gas leak started.



I walked to the end of the hall and pushed open a door to look into a room. It was too dark to see and I groped for a switch, turning the light on.



Lauren was sitting with her back to the door. She was duct-taped to a metal chair. Just seeing her alive and in one piece made me happier than I'd ever been.



I walked in, closing the door behind me. Lauren started to struggle against the chair, begging. “Please, don't hurt me! Just leave me alone and don't do anything to me, please!”



“Shhhh,” I said, walked around to the front of the chair. I crouched down in front of her and took off the ski mask. “I wouldn't hurt you, baby.”



Her face filled with relief. “Nic! Oh, thank God! They said they were going to...”



“Yeah, well, it's a good thing they didn't,” I said. I pulled out my pocket knife and sawed through the tape until it was loose enough for me to pull her out of the chair. “Now let's get you the hell out of here.”



We started toward the door, but before I could turn the handle, it opened. Giovanni's massive body blocked the frame as he sneered at us, pointing a gun. An older woman in black stood behind him, along with two masked Bonaccorsos holding assault rifles.



“There. You see, Marie?” Giovanni asked the woman. “I told you that vendetta would be satisfied, and at last, here we are. Drop your gun and the pocket knife please, Nic, or we'll have to kill you both.”



I let my knife and Eddie's rifle fall to the ground.



Giovanni turned to his two bodyguards. “Rocco, you stay here and frisk him for other weapons. Al, go find Philly and Bam-Bam and tell them to get their crews outside. I doubt this stronzo came alone, even though it would have been the honorable thing to do.” Al nodded and headed down the hall.



Giovanni and Marie stepped into the room. Rocco closed the door behind them and body-slammed me against the stone wall, running his hands over my clothes. He was extremely broad-shouldered and his hands felt like iron. I could see why Giovanni had chosen him to stay. If I tried to out-fight this guy, I'd lose.



Rocco found the .38 in my pocket and yanked it away.



“Honorable?” I spat. I hoped I could stall him long enough to come up with a way out of this. “You torture a man for no reason and kidnap an innocent woman and you talk to me about honor? Where do you get your balls?”



“I buy them wholesale,” Giovanni chortled, “because men like you spend so much time breaking them. But no matter. It all ends tonight. You will die for what you did to Marie's husband and then the rest of the greasers you ride with will be exterminated for going to war with me. I'll find some new gang of biker trash to supply street drugs and do my dirty work when I need them to, and life will go on as though none of you ever existed.”



“Giovanni, listen to me,” I said. “This all started from a stupid mistake. You know that. Vole said the wrong thing, one of our guys overreacted, and it led to something tragic. We all feel terrible about it. But look where the fuck it's led us. All this blood, and for what? You're the most powerful boss in Chicago and you're hiding in the mountains like some kind of goddamn nut. You think this will make other bosses respect and fear you? No. It'll make them think you're a fucking whack-job who's lost all control. The only way to show them you're still someone they can deal with is by showing them you can be reasonable and make peace when you know that a war has gone too far.”