Honor Unraveled (34 page)

“No. Are you? Did that whip cut you?”

“Yeah. But I’ll live.”

“What’s happening, Selena? Who were those guys?”

They heard a shout behind them, then another and another. Fang had found the boys. She urged Casey to a faster speed. “I don’t know, but I don’t like it.” They reached the edge of the campground. Ms. Parker was there, pacing nervously. The girls had been moved to their cabins, and the boys had returned to their own campgrounds. Their misadventure had killed the night for everyone.

Selena did a quick sweep of the area. There might be a sniper in any of a dozen prime spots. She hurried toward the cabin she’d shared with Casey and the other girls for the last month, spending as little time as possible out in the open.
 

“Are all the kids accounted for?” she asked the camp manager, who was scurrying along behind them.

“Yes.”

“What about Zoe and Davy? Are they all right?” Casey asked Ms. Parker.

“They’re fine. They said they heard someone in the woods and went to investigate. Fortunately, they didn’t get lost. They should have gotten a counselor to help them. They will be getting lectured on proper behavior and safety rules while at camp, which you should receive as well. But I think your father will see to that. Selena—I packed your gear up, as you requested.”

“Thank you,” Selena answered. They’d reached their cabin.

“Can I drop in to say good-bye?” Casey asked.

“No.” Besides the fact that the girls would probably be angry with her, she couldn’t risk the delay. “We’re leaving. Ms. Parker will say good-bye to them for you.” She handed Casey her duffel and sleeping bag, then took up her own gear in her left hand, leaving her gun hand free. She fetched her keys out of her pocket and held them in her left hand as well, keeping her weapon in her right hand. She gave the camp manager a nod, then said to Casey, “Let’s go.”

Casey kept up with her as they jogged out to her car. She started the engine from the key fob a safe distance from her car in case the ignition set off a bomb. Nothing, just a sweetly humming engine.
 

“Drop your gear and get in,” she ordered, holding Casey’s door for her, giving her cover until she was inside. “Scrunch down and stay low.” She opened the back door and tossed her gear on the seat, then grabbed Casey’s and set it inside as well.

She hurried to the driver’s side and had the gear in reverse before her door was even closed. She pulled out of the driveway quickly, watching for roadside shooters or another car to start tailing them as they made their way down the steep dirt road away from the mountain camp.

Selena dug her phone out of her pocket and dialed Kit. “Hi, boss. We’re on the road.”

“My daughter okay?”

“Affirmative. Want to talk to her?”

“No. Go straight to the house. I’ll tell Greer to expect you.”

“Roger that.”

* * *

“Kit, do you copy?”
Max’s voice came over the radio. Kit was standing in the second-floor apartment over Ivy’s diner. He had a clear line of sight to the park where the festival was gearing up for its annual fireworks extravaganza.

“Go ahead, Max,” Kit answered.
 

“I’ve lost Amir. He slipped away a couple of hours ago while I was tied up in a club management meeting. They held the vote tonight. Didn’t go well. The Easterners wanted to put one of their guys in charge of the West. Pete got voted in, but only after a fight. A banger who goes by the name of Hatchet and a few of his followers are angry Hatchet wasn’t selected. Everyone’s pissed and they’re heading to town. Pete’s not sure he’s got the loyalty of all the of West. The eastern guys are dead set on making trouble to draw you out. The western guys don’t want them to shit on their home turf. Neither’s winning and the fight’s gonna start tonight. Surprise, surprise, Amir’s not the asset they thought he was.”

“Copy that. We’re in position in town. When you can, get back to headquarters so we can talk. We’ve discovered there’s a Titan I missile silo below the WKB compound. We set up eyes, but need to make a new game plan.”

“Will do. I’m coming into town. Don’t shoot me, Val.”

“Shoot the prodigal son?”
Val came over the line.
“Never. You came back just in time. I think Mom and Dad might get married.”

“Knowing Kit, sounds like I missed a whole lotta drama. Thank fuck.”

“Keep it up, I’ll make you stick around for the wedding,” Kit said.
 

“Can your wedded bliss wait long enough for us to get Amir? Speaking of which, if we see him, are we in a kill or capture situation?”

“Capture. If at all possible,”
Kit answered.

“Roger that. I’m out.”
 

Kit dialed the sheriff. He hated using civilians. He’d tried to discourage their participation, but the men—and a few women—were adamant, insisting they’d been training as part of the town’s contingency planning for various emergency scenarios: fire, floods, and now terrorists. They’d even formed what they called a local militia. Try telling guys like that they couldn’t defend their homes or town.

“We have confirmed incoming,” Kit said when the sheriff picked up. “Get your people into position, then start things rolling.”
 

“Will do. How many are we expecting?”

“Unknown.”

“I have the State Patrol on standby. I’ll alert them.”

Kit hung up, then checked in with Selena once more. They were making good time. No tails. He watched the activity below, frustrated that it was behind schedule. The vendor booths were only now closing down for the night. They should have been taken down a half-hour ago. There were too many civilians milling around, and the WKB was on its way in.

“Val, you in position?”

“Affirmative.”

“You’re using rubber bullets?”

“Affirmative. But I don’t like it. If someone’s worth shooting, they’re worth shooting dead.”

“I just need them out of commission so the smokies can take ’em. Owen, Rocco, get those people into the stadium. Stat.”

“Roger that. Tate’s got his vehicles positioned as planned at both entrances. We’ll take his men and get people moving faster.”

A dull roar, like a distant train, began to rumble around them. It grew louder, doubling in volume in seconds.
 

“Angel, Kelan, Blade—I can hear the bikers coming in. Blade, I’m headed to your twenty.”
 

An empty field at the edge of town had been designated as festival parking. It was full. So were the streets below, except for two areas. One was the section of road two blocks long that had been set aside for a street dance, the other was kitty-corner to that and had simply been blocked off with traffic cones. Tractors sat at various spots along the festival perimeter, showcasing the latest designs in ranching machinery. Four of them were parked as bookends on either corner of the blocks were no cars were parked.
 

As Kit watched, the roads filled with bikers. They poured over every paved surface, down the narrow alleys behind buildings and between rows of houses. The streets hemorrhaged motorcycles. They took up both lanes and spilled over onto the sidewalks. Thinking there was safety in numbers, they began to congregate in the two areas that were unoccupied, Easterners in one group, Westerners in the other.

Kit slipped out of Ivy’s building and cut down the alley on his way to Blade’s location. In less than five minutes, over sixty bikes were lined up neatly between two enormous tractors. The tractors seemed innocuous, like typical displays of the latest and greatest farm implements at a festival of ranchers and farmers, but they served a strategic purpose.

The bikers headed over to the vendor field where the other bikers were converging, like ants on a fallen morsel of food. Kelan walked up to the man left to guard the bikes parked on the main street. A friendly tap on the shoulder got his attention, then a right hook dropped him. He zip-tied his hands and feet while Blade was pulling a steel cable through the wheel spokes of the parked bikes, hooking each end of the cables to the tractor hitches. If they tried to leave, the cable would slow them down long enough for the State Police to collect them.

Angel hoisted the biker over his shoulder and carried him into the darkened grocery store, where two volunteers stood guard over him. The volunteers wore ski masks so that the bikers couldn’t identify them. Kit took down the biker guarding the second line of bikes and stashed him inside the police station. No one noticed them; the two factions were already at each other’s throats, fighting in the streets, on the sidewalks, throughout the vendor field. The town had gone from peaceful festival to full-on riot in less than a minute.

The civilians who hadn’t cleared out fast enough and the vendors who were still taking down their booths were caught in the rumble. Kit and Blade, Angel and Kelan moved through the crowd, gathering civilians and protecting them as they led them toward the stadium or to the school buses that were standing by to gather festival goers.
 

Women were screaming. Children were crying. Men who weren’t part of the WKB got sucked into the fight. Kit had to pull bikers off one father who’d taken a stand by a tree when he couldn’t get his family off the field quickly enough. Kit scooped up two kids and handed them to the man. He picked up a third kid, then wrapped an arm around the mother as he led them across the field to a waiting school bus. A soon as one bus filled, it pulled away and another moved up to take its place; the town had anticipated just this scenario and was ready to bus civilians out of danger.

Kit turned back to the field to see tents collapsing. The bikers were more focused on each other than on civilians for the most part, but one gang member started smashing car windows, adding high-pitched alarms to the noise of the riot. Val dropped him with a rubber bullet. As Kit watched, biker after biker mysteriously dropped to the ground, screaming as Val hit his targets. Kit and the other guys secured the fallen with zip ties, leaving them to be sorted out by the smokies.
 

* * *

Max rode into town. Having been forewarned about the plan, he avoided the roadblocks by taking the old railroad track that had long since been abandoned and the rails removed. It was a walking trail now that cut through a field of chest-high corn and led into the town. He navigated the neighborhood roads, trying to get as close as possible to the center of town. His single objective was to find Pete, the West’s newly confirmed leader, and get him out of there. He parked in the alleyway near the center of activity, then rushed toward the fight.

As Max jogged into the fray, he could see dozens of cop cars and vans, two SWAT teams up from Cheyenne, ambulances and other emergency vehicles locking down an outer perimeter. He dodged flying fists, ducked two-by-fours and clubs, then got hit by a gangbanger’s chain, which he caught, wrapped it around his fist, then pummeled the man at the other end. Someone else came at him with a knife. He yanked the guy whose chain was still wrapped around his fist forward, letting him take the plug. Two more guys came at him, one of them using the broken metal leg of a folding table.
 

Max scanned the field, looking for Pete. He saw him across the way, fighting off a handful of guys. Something smashed into the back of Max’s legs, causing him to hit his knees. And then Kit was there. And Kelan. They cleared the guys off him, then flanked him as he went after Pete.

The cops were starting to make headway in the fight. Max grabbed Pete. “We’re outta here.”

“No. Goddamn it. This fucking ends here. Now.”

“It’s over. The cops are cleaning up. We have to get the hell outta here.”

Pete looked around, seeing that what Max said was true. He shouted to the others to clear out, break it down. All of a sudden, men were running in every direction. A wave of tweakers tried to move their bikes, but something was stopping them. Their tires were burning rubber and staying put. Jesus, the State Police were all over them.
 

Max used the commotion as cover. Grabbing hold of Pete’s cuts, he dragged the leader away from the field to his waiting bike. They rode down the alleyway as far as it would go, then took several turns on their way back to the retired railroad path, successfully evading the blockades controlling traffic into or out of the town.

* * *

Ivy’s cell phone rang with Kit’s ringtone. “Hey,” she answered. There was a lot of noise in the background. Sirens. Car alarms. People shouting. Sounded like a war zone. “Everything okay?”

“It will be soon. Casey and her bodyguard should be pulling into the garage right about now.”

Ivy stopped pacing. “Is she all right?”

“Yes, though I imagine a little scared. I should be able to wrap things up here and get home in a little while.”

“Okay. Be safe. I love you.”

There was a pause on the other end, followed by:
“Always. For you. Love you, too, honey.”

Ivy grabbed a tee and pulled it over her silky teddy, then jumped into a pair of jeans. As she hurried, barefoot, from her room, she saw Rocco coming down the stairs, fully geared up.