Kade: Santanas Cuervo MC (8 page)

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Authors: Kathryn Thomas

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“Yes, Goddamnit! Get ready!”

 

“No!” she cried again.

 

“One…two…three!” Tryst called, then opened his door as Dugger slammed on the brakes, the Jeep sliding to a stop. Tryst was out even before the Jeep stopped moving, Dugger right behind him. “Go!” he roared, waving his hand frantically.

 

Winter scrambled out of the back and into the driver’s seat, banged the Jeep into gear, and floored it, the doors thumping shut as she surged away.

 

***

 

“Come on, you bastard,” Tryst growled as the Ford Raptor bore down on them with terrifying speed. In the length of time it took them to change drivers the truck was nearly on them.

 

He and Dugger opened up, emptying their guns into the windshield and nose of the truck. They tried to leap aside at the last moment, but Dugger was too slow, his reactions dulled by the loss of blood and his slide into shock. The truck slammed into him with a sickening thud, his body tossed up and to the side like a rag doll.

 

Tryst scrambled to Dugger as soon as the truck passed, but he knew he was dead the moment he reached him, Dugger’s head turned at an angle that made him sick to his stomach. He flopped into the dirt beside him. They’d failed. Dugger was dead and they hadn’t been able to stop the truck. He knew it was a long shot, but he’d hoped that with eighteen shots between them, they could have hit the driver or something vital in the truck.

 

“I’m sorry, brother,” Tryst said as he sat and stared at his dead friend.

 

***

 

Winter drove recklessly fast, the big Ford pickup slowly closing the distance. She didn’t know where she was going, unable to read the GPS as the Jeep crashed and banged across the landscape. There was nowhere to hide out here, and the Ford was faster than her Jeep. All she could do was run as far and as fast as possible, hoping she reached a road, a house, anything that might cause her pursuers to break off.

 

The Ford was nearly on her, less than two car lengths back, steam pouring from the engine. In desperation she slammed on the brakes, the Ford hitting her so hard she thought her Jeep would roll. As she floored the Wrangler again, she began to pull away, the Ford falling farther and farther behind. The truck stopped, then she heard the crack of a rifle and the rear glass and windshield shattered.

 

She screamed, ducking down as low as possible, but kept her foot down. There was another report from the gun, then another, then nothing. She risked a quick glance behind her and saw the truck was well back and had disappeared in her dust cloud. She breathed a sigh of relief, but didn’t slow until she was sure she was well away.

 

***

 

She stopped when she reached Eagle Pass Road. She’d driven nearly fifty miles off road from the drill site. She sat, the Jeep idling, unsure of what to do, then pulled her sat phone and dialed Kade. The phone rang then went to voicemail. She whimpered softly.

 

“Kade, call me. Dugger and Tryst are dead. They saved me but they’re dead. I—” She whimpered again, trying to hold it together, but couldn’t. She ended the call and sobbed quietly into her hands before forcing away her tears.

 

She sniffed and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, realizing she wasn’t out of it yet. She was alone and unarmed in the middle of the desert and would have no chance if the gunmen showed up again. Gritting her teeth against the tears, she eased the nose of the Jeep against the fence, then pushed it down, driving over the wire before bouncing onto the road. She turned left and drove south as fast as she could, her Jeep shaking and jittering down the rough dirt road.

 

***

 

Kade pulled to a stop beside the pump and dismounted, grumbling to himself about having to stop for fuel yet again. As he filled the thirsty Harley he checked his phone. He’d missed a call and there was a message waiting. He smiled when he saw who it was from, but as he played the message his smile faded. He checked the time. The message had been left forty minutes ago.

 

He quickly pressed dial, his phone automatically calling the last number. “Winter! Are you okay? Where are you? What happened?”

 

She whimpered. “I’m at the recording truck. I didn’t know where else to go.”

 

“Wait right there! Don’t move! I’ll be there in thirty minutes!” he hung up then immediately dialed Bickers.

 

“Bickers. Winter was attacked again. Tryst and Dugger are dead. Get everyone you can find to the recording truck pronto!” He hung up without waiting for a response, shoved the nozzle back into the pump, and cranked his hog to life. The minute it started he kicked the bike into gear and twisted the throttle hard, roaring out of fuel station, the Harley thundering as he called on the bike for everything it had to give him.

 

***

 

Thirty-five minutes later, Kade skidded to a stop by the recording truck. He’d ridden irresponsibly fast, pushing the bike to its limit while on pavement, then riding as fast as he dared once he hit dirt roads. Winter and Jill were waiting for him as he burst through the door into the truck.

 

“I’m so sorry,” Winter said, looking miserable.

 

“Are you okay?” he asked.

 

She nodded, but she didn’t look okay. He stepped forward and pulled her into a hug and held her as she began to cry again. “They got out of the Jeep,” she said between her sobs. “They got out to try to stop the truck and sent me on. They knew they were going to die, but they got out anyway.”

 

He pursed his lips, bottling up his emotions. It would do her no good for him to rage at the unfairness of it. He’d asked these men to protect her, thinking it would be easy money. Now two of his brothers were dead.

 

“Shhh…” he said, holding her tight. “We knew this might happen,” he lied.

 

He held her, rocking her softly until her tears gradually stopped and he heard the distant thunder of approaching Harleys. She stepped back and dried her eyes, waiting until the phalanx of Santanás Cuervos arrived.

 

“Let’s get you home,” Kade said softly, escorting her out of the recorder truck and to the Jeep. The Wrangler looked like warmed over hell. It had several bullet holes in it, the front and rear glass were spider-webbed and holed, the rear was caved in while every other body panel was bent and scratched, and there was a healthy smear of blood on the front seat and driver’s door.

 

Kade ushered Winter into the passenger seat, then walked up to Bickers as the Santanás Cuerveos stopped. “I’m taking her to the RV. She’s pretty shaken up.”

 

Bickers nodded but said nothing. Kade turned away and got behind the wheel of the Wrangler, the thirteen members of the club riding in formation, six in front, seven in the rear.

 

As they were driving, Winter’s phone rang. She pulled it out and glanced at the number. It was Kevin, one of the drillers, and she wondered why he was calling. He was the first person she called after she gathered her wits, to make sure Bruce was okay. “Kevin? Everything okay?”

 

“Winter? It’s Tryst. Are you okay?”

 

“Tryst?” she cried, so glad to hear his voice she began to cry as she looked at Kade. “Thank God! I thought you were dead. How’s Dugger?”

 

“He didn’t make it. Are you okay?”

 

Her rush of euphoria vanished in an instant and she tears of relief turned into tears of sorrow. “I’m so sorry,” she said softly. “Yes, I’m okay, thanks to you.”

 

“I tried Kade but he’s not answering his phone. Do you know if he’s back from Houston yet?”

 

“He’s right here.”

 

“Let me talk to him.”

 

She passed the phone to him. “It’s Tryst. Dugger didn’t make it,” she said softly as she wiped at her eyes.

 

He took the phone. “Good to hear from you, brother. I thought you were dead. Are you okay?”

 

“Yeah,” Tryst said, though Kade could tell from his voice he wasn’t. “The rig guys picked us up a little while ago. We found the truck that was chasing us. This was no pissed off landowner unless you know someone who can afford a brand new Raptor. There were no plates, no registration, no nothing in the truck.”

 

“Cartel,” Kade said softly.

 

“That’s what it looks like to me.”

 

“Fuck. This is bad. But I don’t understand why they’re targeting Winter. It makes no sense.”

 

“I don’t know, but I remember what happened the last time we went up against the cartel.”

 

“Yeah, so do I. Where are you now?”

 

“I’m on Eagle Pass Road. We’re waiting on the Sheriff to arrive.”

 

“You need anything?”

 

“A drink. No, I’m okay. But I’m going to find out who did this, then I’m going to kill them.”

 

Kade nodded in sympathy and understanding. “We’ll make this right, but don’t say shit like that in front of the cops.”

 

“I hear you, brother. I see dust, so that’s probably the Sheriff.”

 

“Take care of yourself. Can you go with me when I break the news to Dugger’s old lady? She’ll want to know how it happened.”

 

“This is fucked,” Tryst snarled. “We shouldn’t even be having that conversation, but yeah.”

 

“I’ll call as soon as I get Winter squared away.” He hung up the phone and handed it back to her. She looked back him, her eyes full of tears. It wasn’t her fault Dugger was dead; if anything, it was his. He’d underestimated the threat. He reached over, took her hand, and gave it a gentle squeeze, trying to give her strength.

 

When they arrived at her RV, all fifteen of them squeezed in and listened as she recounted the story, Kade adding what little he knew from talking with Tryst. The men’s faces went from hard to sad then back to hard again. When she finished she stared at the floor, unable to meet their eyes.

 

“It isn’t your fault Dugger’s dead,” Kade said firmly. “It’s mine. But it’s obvious now two men aren’t enough, not out here where the shooter can stand off.”

 

“What are we going to do?” Bickers asked.

 

“Do you think we can handle seven or eight men teams? Six or seven in a parameter, one inside close?”

 

He saw the men wince. That was going to stretch them thin, very thin. “We’ll make it work, somehow,” Anders said firmly.

 

“Things are slow at the moment with work,” Kade said. “I’ll stay on Winter full time. I’ll be in close with her. I don’t want anyone else getting shot.”

 

Bickers and Anders looked at each other. “Kade, we need to talk. Outside,” Bickers said, jerking his head at the door.

 

“Nothing to talk about.”

 

“I think there is,” Bickers replied.

 

Kade looked at him a moment then turned and stepped out of the RV, Bickers and Anders following him out. “What?”

 

“What are you doing?” Bickers asked.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“He means, Kade, why are you putting yourself on this twenty-four seven? Why are you the one in the kill zone all the time?”

 

“Nobody else is going to die doing this.”

 

“We knew the risks when we agreed to take this job,” Bickers said.

 

“Dugger wasn’t your fault,” Anders added. “It’s the fucking cartel’s fault.”

 

“I’m the one who took the job. I’m the one who asked the brothers to put their life on the line. It
is
my fault! I should have taken this job more seriously.”

 

“No!” Bickers snapped. “You’re not taking this all on you. We didn’t know. This whole cartel angle makes no sense. How were you supposed to know?”

 

“I should have been more careful.”

 

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Anders growled. “None of us knew. There was no way to know. We all agreed two men were plenty. Overkill, even.”

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