“Fuck you,” Screw said without any heat.
Gumby chuckled before laying on his back and worming his way under the truck. As he’d made the club practice at least fifteen times, he followed the gas line until he reached the anti-siphoning device. “Got it,” he called after disabling the device.
As Gumby worked his way back out from under the truck, Screw got the tubing set up and began siphoning the diesel. They didn’t need to get it all, just enough to allow them to dump gasoline in the tank. It was the perfect solution. Ten miles out, the trucks would fail. The weapons wouldn’t reach their destination and by the time the company realized they’d been sabotaged, the CDMC’s deliveries would be fucked.
“That’s good. Good, good, good. Come on,” Gumby said beckoning Screw with his hand.
Screw tossed him the tubing which Gumby stowed in a black duffel then he grabbed the canister full of gasoline.
“Jesus, motherfucking Christ,” Screw said as sweat ran down his face and into his eyes. “My hands are fucking shaking.”
“Here, I got you. Done this a hundred times.” Gumby took over, inserting the canister into the gas tank.
“Seriously? Hundreds of times.”
With a laugh, Gumby looked over at him and winked. “What the fuck else do you do when you’re sixteen, bitter, and live in a sandy town that doesn’t even have a McDonalds?”
“Apparently, you vandalize cars.”
Gumby winked. “You got it, babe. Done.” He pulled the can out, kissed Screw then flipped both their comms back on. “Team one objective complete.”
Screw stared after the confident man as he strode away, ass looking like every porn star’s goal. They made a good team. Gumby the ever-calm presence and Screw, his hyper self.
“Team three objective complete.” The words spoken in his ear were followed almost immediately by team two.
“Team four, check in,” Screw said.
“Getting there. Having trouble with the fucking anti-siphon piece of shit,” Mav said. It was followed by some grumbling. “Fuck. Something ain’t right here.”
Screw checked his watch. They had exactly ninety seconds until the alarm company would alert the cops. “Gumby,” he said into his comm device so Mav could hear.
“On it.” As he watched Gumby jog over to where Mav was, his heart rate kicked up again.
Thirty seconds passed.
Forty-five.
“Fuck, they fucking jerry-rigged his motherfucker. Any chance you can buy me an extra minute?” Gumby’s frustration bled through the ear piece.
“No,” Screw answered honestly though it killed him to be unable to offer help. “Look if we have to abandon it, we still got three—”
“No.” Gumby’s voice came through the comm. “Fuck that. I’m getting this bitch done.”
It was on the tip of his tongue to say, “I’m telling Jazz you said that,” but he bit back his natural instinct to break the tension with humor. This wasn’t the fucking time. And high tension would keep Gumby working as fast as fucking possible.
“Fuck.” LJ stuck his head out of the guard booth. “We got a problem. Alarm company called one minute early. Cops are on the way. Two minutes out.”
“Shit. Fuck,” Screw bit out. “Let’s roll. Everyone out?”
“Mav, Gumby, get the fuck out of there,” he called as he started for the exit. They had a truck idling down the street. If they sprinted like Olympic runners, they’d make it.
“Right behind you,” Mav said in his ear.
“Me too.”
Screw breathed a huge fucking sigh of relief as Gumby’s voice crackled in his ear. He ran, legs pumping as fast as they could down the street to the waiting van. Rocket hung out the back with his hand on the open door. As the sound of a siren wailing registered, he yelled, “Like the ground’s on fucking fire, boys.”
Screw picked up his pace. The sound of pounding feet behind him had him confident Mav and Gumby were only steps behind. He jumped into the back of the van and spun just in time to see Mav do the same. As Rocket went to pull the door closed, Screw shouted, “Wait! Where the fuck is Gumby?”
Rocket’s eyes widened in shock as he seemed to do a mental tally of who was in the van. “Shit! The crazy fucker stayed.”
“Gumby?” Screw said into his comm. He was the only one still wearing the headset. “Motherfucker you better be running out of there right fucking now. Lights are coming down the street.”
He held his breath until he heard, “Screw, I got it! Two seconds and I’ll have the gas in the truck.”
“You don’t have two fucking seconds.” He spun away from his brothers and lowered his voice. “Please, get the fuck out of there.” Jesus Christ. What the hell was he going to tell Jazmine? That Gumby was arrested because of him? And what would he tell Copper? The CDMC would know what they’d done in mere hours. Retaliation would be swift and brutal.