“Ain’t a conversation to be havin’ right now,” Cage reminded him.
Rook pressed his lips together and shook his head. “Should put a bullet in this kid’s fuckin’ head right now.”
“But you won’t,” Cage said firmly.
Rook’s nostrils flared and his lips flattened out. “Goddamn it.”
More shots rang out, some even whizzing way too closely.
“Everybody still upright and breathin’?” Trip asked, ducked behind a tree.
Everyone verbally checked in.
“See any of them?” Judge asked from a few trees away. Somehow the man found a tree big enough to hide his giant ass.
“No,” “Fuck no,” and “Nope” came from a few of them.
“Move tree to tree, then. Stay behind cover. Move carefully. Take extra care where you step,” Trip called out from ahead of them. “Stay low if possible. Don’t let those fuckin’ kids go. The second we do, we’re gonna be in a fuckin’ shootout. They got long guns with scopes. We don’t. We’ll lose.”
Christ. More good news.
In a group, they slowly moved through the trees and brush along the edge of the dirt lane, taking the two boys with them. But the hairs on the back of Cage’s neck were like the quills on a fucking trapped porcupine. Especially when he heard footsteps in the dead leaves and undergrowth that didn’t belong to any of his brothers.
The Shirleys were tracking them and getting closer.
“Maybe we can take more out,” Cage said, “as our parting gift.”
“Yeah. Game for that. But hangin’ onto this kid will fuck up my aim.” Rook whistled softly to catch Rev’s attention. “Take this fuckin’ inbred snot monkey.”
Rev carefully worked his way over to them, grabbed the crying kid by the arm and kept moving until he found cover again.
“Trip’s a great shot,” Rook whispered, sweeping the area by looking down the barrel of his 9mm Beretta.
Trip had been a Marine. He’d better be a good fucking shot. “But will he pick some of them off?”
The prez wanted to keep the club as clean as possible. Cage wasn’t sure if Trip would just start killing people, even in self-defense. Trip stated quite a few times he wasn’t going back to prison no matter what.
“Most of us are felons already, brother. None of us should have weapons. But, you know what? You got your baby in your arms right now. That’s all that fuckin’ matters to any of us. I see any movement that ain’t one of us, I’m shootin’. We start shootin’, you take Dyna and get the fuck down this hell hole.”
“Dad can take Dyna. I can stay.”
“Fuck that. She needs her fuckin’ father. You take her. Hear me?”
“Yeah, brother, I hear you.” Sometimes he hated Rook, but at this very fucking moment he might actually love him.
Now wasn’t the time to get sappy. Now was the time to get his ass moving and get his daughter home safely.
“Be careful,” was the last thing Cage said to his brother as he moved from tree to tree down that fucking mountain. A mountain that needed to be reduced to a canyon from a whole bunch of dynamite.
He kept moving even though more shots rang out behind him and he wasn’t sure from which side.
Since he was walking so slowly and being extra careful, it wasn’t long before the rest of them caught up. Ozzy had both arms draped over Deacon and Sig’s shoulders and a huge splinter—more like a chunk of wood—sticking out of his thigh.
“Fuck!” Ozzy bellowed, his fingers wrapped around the wood fragment.
Cage grimaced. “Holy fuck. What happened?”
“Shrapnel,” Ozzy groaned. “Sounded like a fifty-caliber round struck the goddamn tree next to me. It exploded, and the next thing I know, I’m speared like a fuckin’ beef kabob.”
“Don’t pull it out. Don’t know what it hit. Don’t need you bleedin’ out on this mountain,” Trip yelled with one hand on Dodge, who was walking under his own power, but also injured.
“Hurts like a fuckin’ bitch,” Ozzy griped, his face twisted in pain.
“Hurt’s better than dead,” Trip reminded the motel manager.
“Got that fuckin’ right,” Dodge agreed, blood soaking the sleeve of his T-shirt and dripping down his arm.
“You get shot?” Cage asked him, holding Dyna closer to the center of his chest in case bullets began to fly again. One would need to go through him first to get to her.
“Let’s fuckin’ go,” Judge bellowed at them. “They can pick us off easier than we can them. Stop jawin’ and start movin’, we’re almost there. I ain’t carryin’ anyone’s ass. I’ll drag you by your fuckin’ foot ‘til we hit pavement. Then I might drag you some more.”
Deacon snorted, but everyone listened to that order. Gunshots were still heard higher up the mountain. They felt like a herd of deer being driven into a trap made up of waiting hunters.
He hoped to fuck that wasn’t true.
“Anyone check with Easy and Whip?”