A couple minutes later, his cell rang. By now, he was becoming a pro at answering the Bluetooth on his helmet, but damn, he wasn’t sure how much he liked being connected to others so readily. When he went for a ride, he liked the ability to just go and be free, dammit.
“Hey,” he answered in greeting.
“You getting tired of my voice, brother?” Keys asked.
“How’d you guess?” No sense in denying it.
Keys laughter filled the silence until he heard other voices in the background. “Yeah, I’ll tell him you love him and shit, now quiet. Duke said you best not get dead too. You got company riding with you yet?”
“What is with you guys and telling me not to get dead? Not that I plan on pushing up daisies any time soon or anything. As for the company, that’s a yes. Two matte black Harleys have joined me for this evening ride. While I do appreciate the escort, I hate that they had to leave whatever it was they were doing to ride along with me, especially when it looks like—oh fuck,” he grunted swerving to the right as a van pulled up beside him with the back door open. What he saw inside chilled his blood.
“Oh fuck, what?” Keys barked.
“Van with several guys in tactical gear and guns. You know the cell number to the guys riding with me?” he asked, falling back to avoid being shot or grabbed. The two other riders were a couple cars lengths behind him, which he hoped was far enough away they weren’t in the line of fire.
“Yeah,” Keys said, tapping away on his computer.
“Tell them to get the fuck out of here. These are not amateurs.” He’d been Special Ops for years until the day his team had been betrayed and he’d nearly been killed. He’d planned to age out of the military, not be pushed out because they were sure he’d never walk again. The memory of another vehicle slow rolling as they took aim at King popped into his mind. Anger boiled like lava in his veins. Motherfuckers were on a mission to take out him and his brothers, yet did they know who they were fucking with?
“Yeah, that ain’t happening, friend. What’s the van doing now and where are Rod and Kink?”
Keys question startled him. “Who?”
“The two friendlies who are riding with you, Rod and Kink. Where are they?” Keys repeated.
“We got separated by a couple of semis. I can’t see them. I slowed up and put a few vehicles between me and the fuckers in the van. I’m going to get off the interstate at the next exit.” He kept looking ahead for a sign. The other two bikes he thought had passed him, but he couldn’t be sure.
“No way, brother. That’s what they’d expect you to do. Keep heading this way. Wheels and T-Rex are halfway to you and trust me, they can handle the fuckers in the grocery getter,” Keys assured him.
“Fuck, Keys. The last thing I need on my conscience is one of the brothers dying on the first night I get my cut.”
“Well, you see, that’s too fucking bad. Get your ass here and we’ll discuss what the fuck is going on. I got a few hits I’m looking into. Keep this line open.”
Mick rolled his eyes as Keys ordered him around. “You like to listen, huh?”
“Yeah, that’s me, a kinky fucker. Now ride and don’t—”
“Get dead, I know,” Mick said.
“See, you’re catching on.”
Mick’s instinct had him looking behind him just as another van that looked very similar to the other was weaving in and out of vehicles. “Shit, I think there’s another set of grocery getters coming up on my ass.”
“Can you lose them?”
Fire burned his arm just as his body jerked. “Fuck, they’re shooting at me on the damn interstate.”
“Are you hit?” King growled, letting him know that Keys had patched the Prez in.
The ache in his left arm was a definite yes. “Yeah, but nothing serious.”
“How is being shot nothing serious?”
That question came from Duke. Mick would’ve laughed if he hadn’t been worried about getting dead and all. He didn’t have the time or energy to spare explaining to the brothers how he knew the difference. A screech of tires had him looking up to see the other van had slowed up, effectively boxing him in or trying to. With an exit to his right, a van to his left and one behind him, he remembered what Keys had said. It made perfect sense that they’d think he would take the exit and be led right into an ambush. Mick jerked to the right as if he was going for the easiest route, only instead he bumped along the shoulder and around a few cars, horns blaring as he came a little too close to them. Don’t get dead, a mantra he kept repeating to himself.
His bike wasn’t made for off-roading, the Harley had power, but it was skidding on the loose gravel as if it was ready to lay down. If he made it out of this alive, he’d pamper the damn thing. A break in cars gave him the opportunity to weave back onto the road, making his tires wiggle beneath him. Or maybe that was the fact his left arm was screaming from the wound.
“Wheels and T-Rex are five minutes out from you. Keep coming and don’t falter. Kink says he sees you, and the vans aren’t far behind you either.” Keys informed him.
“Yeah, I can feel them breathing down my neck. I’m not gonna look backward to see just how close though.” He maneuvered ahead of a semi, the big rig giving him a little protection from projectiles.
“Alright, you got security at the next on ramp. See the brothers waiting for you?”
“How the fuck you know where I am?” Mick asked.
“Eyes in the sky, my friend.” Keys diabolical laughter would’ve been fucking frightening if he wasn’t on his side.
The next two minutes went by in slow motion. On the other side of the highway, a shot rang out, making him jerk the handlebars of his bike seconds later. He just barely kept the big beast under him as he felt the impact of what he knew was a 48-caliber hitting his thigh, grunting in pain.
“What the fuck just happened, Mick?”
“Gonna need Wheels to pick me and my bike up, brother,” he wheezed out between clenched teeth.
“He says he sees you. Keep your bike up, man,” King ordered.
“Gonna need Doc.” Pain was making the road a little blurry, but he wasn’t going to let whoever the fuck was trying to take him out win, especially if the little pecker Pete was with them.
“He’ll be here before you are,” King promised.
Mick kept the throttle pulled back even as pain shot through his body, weaving through vehicles that were being driven by drivers who were clearly freaking the fuck out. He wished he’d had enough strength in his left arm to steer the big bike. He loved to have returned fire or done something other than nearly lay his Harley on its side. A semi’s loud horn blared a warning, which he totally heeded, bobbing to the right much to the annoyance of another SUV filled with teens who had no clue what the fuck was going on around them. Lucky fuckers.
He spied one of the cages his MC had, adrenaline making his heartbeat like he’d run a damn marathon. Thirty seconds from reaching them another shot rang out. There was no pain. He thought he’d feel something when he hit the pavement. The bullet had missed him, or maybe they’d aimed for his tire. Either way, they hit their target, taking him down. He held tight to the handlebars, going with the slide. Horns blared, that semi honking the loudest.