Clover’s dreams were interrupted by a curse, and he looked up when Tank slowed his motorcycle. They were in the lead of the little cavalcade and the first to spot two large trees blocking the mountain road.
“Uh-oh,” Clover muttered once they stopped altogether. The slopes didn’t leave enough space to drive around the blockage. They wouldn’t go through without towing the trunks away.
Tank slid off the bike and approached the tree, followed by Boar, who drove up second. This road didn’t seem to be used much, but Clover couldn’t remember a storm strong enough to fell trees, passing through the area. The weather had been pristine. Not to mention that it was a strange coincidence that both the trees have fallen in the same spot. He walked up to Tank, breathing in the fresh scent of moss and damp leaves, but the sudden tension in his Daddy’s shoulders made him stop.
“Tank?” he whispered, but it was Boar, who glanced his way without moving otherwise.
“Get in the back of the van. Slowly.”
Clover went from annoyed by the situation to tense within a split second. So much for laying low at the Steel Horde MC’s clubhouse. He nodded, but his legs were lead when he backed away to his designated hideout. All of a sudden, the soft murmur of leaves wasn’t soothing but as sinister as gun cocking in an empty house.
He stifled a yelp when Drake’s smoke-scented fingers closed on his mouth, but the guy pushed him into the back of the van and closed the doors without a word.
It suddenly became so still Clover could hear his own heart beating.
What was happening?
A bang had him screaming, and he dropped to the yoga mat, too afraid of bullets that could find their way inside through the metal walls of the vehicle. The inside of the van was an oven, and he broke out in sweat, finding it hard to breathe.
“Tank! We haven’t killed y’all yet out of professional courtesy. Give up the boy, and you can go!” someone yelled outside, and it was a cue for Clover to hyperventilate.
He couldn’t see a thing. He could’ve, got to his knees and tried looking through the windshield, but he’d seen enough movies featuring ambushes to know that would get him a first class ticket to Hell. In a situation so convenient, the enemy was stationed above, so they could take out Tank’s crew one after another with precise shots. They likely had advantage in numbers too, and if Tank and the guys wanted to keep Clover, they’d have to take a giant risk.
He was afraid something horrible could happen, and he’d be dragged out of his hiding spot, forced to watch the men who’d become so important to him dead or still bleeding out.
“He’s ours!” Tank bellowed. “Get your own bounty!”
“The price is high enough for all of us to quit working for a long time. Let’s just split the prize!” the unknown person yelled.
Another stranger laughed. “We’ve seen the vid from the clubhouse. Looked like you were having fun, but you can get another boy toy for that kind of cash!”
Clover’s eyes went wide. Fuck. Fucking fuck. Of course. But there was no room for shame when his life was on the line.
Tank’s voice was strong and steady still. “We are not letting you steal our bounty.”
The second man, whose voice Clover had heard so far answered quickly. “Don’t be an idiot. We’ve shared some good times, but those are the rules of the game. You are outnumbered two to one, so be sensible. Maybe we could negotiate for cash. Nobody here needs to get hurt.”
“You know me, and you’re asking to take my money? We’ll kill every last one of you fuckers!” Tank yelled, and the realization that Tank was talking about him in terms of a reward hit Clover like a bullet from the gun that went off somewhere outside.
Even as the first shot deafened him, he couldn’t get Tank’s words out of his head. So Tank would be willing to take money for his life despite all they’ve been through together.
Of course he would.
Like Jerry had.
Like Troy cheating on Clover after declaring his undying love.
How could Clover have remained naive after experiencing so much betrayal in his life? Time and time again, he fell for the same fucking tricks. Maybe because he believed himself smarter than he actually was and overestimated his capacity for seeing through bullshit. One day, this flaw might lead him to his death, but not yet.
He inched toward the front of the van, breathing in the scent of smoke that always clung to Drake. His head throbbed with heat, ears ringing from gunshots, but he’d be the surviving cockroach even if this scarred him for life.
Chapter 15 – Drake
Drake was in his element. After a short exchange with Pyro, who provided cover, Drake had made his way uphill and moved through the forest like a human-sized machete. Fast and sharp, he reached the first of the hidden assailants so silently the man hadn’t known what had hit him when Drake slit his throat. The instant surge of power fueled Drake’s movements and propelled him toward his next target, even though the enemy might’ve already been aware that there was a wolf on the prowl.