Primal (Wrong Side of the Tracks 2)

A bullet shattering their back window begged to differ.

Dane’s hands froze on the steering wheel, and he uttered a scream so guttural his throat felt as if it had been through a meat grinder. This was it. They were about to die, and there was nothing he could do!

Next to him, Jag let out a hiss before diving between the front seats, into the space at the back of the car.

“N-no, there’s glass!” Dane shouted, but just as he was about to look over the shoulder, white lights shone into his eyes as another vehicle appeared from behind the bend of the road. Blood and broken bones almost became parts of their reality, but Dane made a rapid tug on the wheel and got into the right lane as the other car howled at him in protest.

It was only then that he realized Jag had never given him the phone back. “Jag! The phone!”

“I don’t know where it is!” Jag yelled, and Dane’s stomach dropped when the rear-view mirror revealed blood on his lover’s handsome features. He dipped out of sight before Dane could have asked what happened.

Was he… hiding? Leaving Dane as the sole target? That wasn’t like Jag at all.

But any questions Dane might have had retreated into the back of his mind when the bike roared closer. Dane was too afraid to get his eyes off the road to seek Rob’s face, but he already knew what it looked like in moments of fury—scowls carved into flesh and daggers for eyes. He hoped it would always remain invisible.

“Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck,” he shrieked when the silhouette of the rider loomed in the rear-view mirror. Another figure emerged right behind Dane.

Jag.

The car exploded with a bang so loud it still rang in Dane’s ears seconds later, as he held on to the steering wheel with hands of lead.

The vehicle swerved to the side, and Jag fell face-first on the side window. He dropped the gun, and it clattered to the floor, making Dane beg in his heart that it hadn't rolled under his seat. Being accidentally shot in the ass would have been the stupidest way to go. Much dumber even than being murdered because he’d trusted an outlaw biker.

“Why did you bring a gun with you?” Dane yelled, his focus torn between the road ahead and the rider looming behind them.

Jag growled, fighting for balance as the car dashed at breakneck speed over poorly maintained roads. “It’s Dex’s, I knew he kept one here. It just bounced out of my hand! Fuck!”

“We’re both gonna die,” Dane cried, but when a shadow emerged in the corner of his eye, adrenaline hit his veins with heat. He wasn’t about go down without a fight this time.

Jag rose, blocking most of Dane’s view. “He’ll have to go through me!”

Typical Jag, thinking he could bend reality to his will with brute force and that his body could withstand bullets if he loved Dane enough. But Jag was innocent in all this, and if Dane let Rob catch up, they’d both be fucked.

The right side mirror shattered, but the sound of Rob’s firearm didn’t even make Dane twitch this time. He made up his mind in a split second and twisted the wheel. The world beyond the car was a shadow play, but their bumper hit something, and as Dane stepped on the gas pedal and straightened their course, the only engine he could hear was their own.

Jag howled like a triumphant werewolf, even though the sudden motion had again toppled him over. “You got him!

Dane’s happiness died down, and cold shivers creeped up his back like ants. Just how much had he’d gotten Rob? Was the fucker dead? Frank might claim the biker gang had wanted him punished for the shit he’d pulled, but what if they turned against Dane for taking away their right to mete out justice? And Dane wasn’t a killer.

They really fucking needed to tell Frank what happened, because if Dane had to disappear, there was no time to waste!

Jag ducked again. “Oh! I can’t see the gun anywhere, but I found the phone! And I lost another button. This shirt is useless.”

Relief was like a warm shower on Dane’s tense muscles. Maybe things would work out after all? “Give it to me.”

Chapter 23 – Dane

Frank seemed unreasonably calm about the situation, but he wasn’t the one Rob had wanted dead! When Dane finished yet another phone conversation with the man, once again assured that the biker club members were on their way, he didn’t feel any safer than he’d been when they’d arrived at the side of the junkyard a few minutes prior.

Okay, maybe a bit more secure, since Jag insisted they enter the premises through an obscured hole in the perimeter fence, away from the main road. They’d parked only a stone’s throw from the secret opening and hidden the car behind thick bushes. As furious as Rob was about the inefficient service provided by Frank and his team, it was very unlikely he’d notice the spot where Dane had driven between the trees.