Well, fuck. Mac had finally persuaded Hannah to learn how to handle a gun. The gunfire the brothers heard was probably Levi giving Hannah a shooting lesson. The farmhouse we requisitioned was seven miles from Valhalla, far enough away that Levi must’ve figured that nobody on the ranch would hear the shots. Just our luck that Dwight and Darryl happened to be driving by during the lesson.
“We should check it out,” I said. Better to state the obvious than to arouse Boyd’s suspicions by claiming the gunfire was no big deal. I turned to Dwight. “Could you tell which direction the sound was coming from?”
He shrugged. “Not really.”
Boyd shook his head, his mouth twisted in an unhappy line. “After breakfast, Ripper and I will search all the nearby houses. If anybody is squatting close by, we’ll flush ’em out.”
“Damn right we will.” I kept my eyes focused on Boyd, resisting the impulse to scan the hilltops surrounding the house for any sign of Kyle or Levi. They were taking turns watching the ranch, in case everything suddenly went to hell and they needed to step in. “How many houses where somebody could hole up between here and town?”
“No more than five or six.”
“All right. Gonna grab a couple of extra magazines for my Colt, just in case things go south.” I stood and ambled across the porch like a man who had all the time in the world. At the door, I glanced over my shoulder toward Boyd. “You wanna ask Tuck to come along?”
Kept a straight face while I waited for his answer. If Tuck joined us, if three men checked every property, it might speed up the search and give my friends less time to cover their tracks. Even if we stuck together, it’d be harder to steer the search away from Kyle and the kids.
“No. I’d rather leave Tuck here to keep an eye on the place.”
I was the only one who liked that answer. Darryl rolled his eyes at his brother and pulled a face. That had to sting, knowing that the top dog didn’t want to leave you in charge.
I headed toward the bedroom. The two-way radio was wrapped in a pair of jeans in my bag on the floor of the closet. I hadn’t spoken to Kyle in two days—hadn’t told him about the planned assault on the armory—but I had no choice but to break radio silence. I tucked both an extra magazine and the radio into the inner pocket of my cut, then walked through the kitchen on my way toward the back door.
“Gonna take a piss before breakfast,” I told Mac, who was buttering a mountain of toast. I walked across the yard, past the chicken coop and tractor shed, out of sight of the house. Kyle or Levi had better be within range. I pulled the radio from my pocket, pressed the call button and waited for a response.
THIRTY-NINE
Kyle
Holy hell, what was going on?
Sprawled on my stomach, field glasses in hand, I blinked and leaned forward, as if getting two inches closer would force what I was seeing to make sense.
Ripper and Kenzie had walked onto the porch, coffee cups in hand. Nothing odd about that. Nothing at all. What made me gape in amazement was the redheaded woman plastered against Ripper’s side. The three of them squeezed onto the porch swing, with the biker between the women.
Boyd Wilcox, the number one Nazi, joined them on the porch.
The redhead curved her body into Ripper’s, running her fingers up and down his thigh, bringing her hand to rest mere inches from his junk.
I turned the binoculars on Kenzie. When we were dating, Kenzie would’ve pitched a fit if I’d blatantly checked out another woman. If another woman groped me—whew—she would’ve gone ballistic. Why the hell was Kenzie calmly sipping coffee while this stranger felt up her man? No, she wasn’t just serenely sitting there. Kenzie smiled at Ripper. She set her coffee cup down on the porch, then turned to him and stroked his chest. Wait. I stretched my neck to get an even closer look. Was she playing with his nipple piercing through his shirt?
Clearly, I’d entered an alternate universe.
Dwight and Darryl wandered onto the porch and offered the threesome baleful looks. They spoke. I couldn’t make out the words, but whatever they said made Kenzie and the redhead hop up and head back into the house. After a couple of minutes, Ripper followed the women inside. He reemerged a few minutes later, walking from the back door toward the barns.
My two-way radio squawked.
“Kyle?” Ripper said in a low, urgent voice.
“Yeah, I’m here.”
“Dwight and Darryl heard gunfire near where you’re staying. After breakfast, Boyd wants us to check out all the houses between Valhalla and town. You all need to clear out before we get to you.”
“Shit,” I hissed. Any questions I had about the mysterious redhead could wait. I mentally calculated how long it would take me to hoof it back to the house. If I went at a dead run, at least an hour. I could radio Levi and give them a heads-up, but they’d need my help to quickly pack up all our stuff and hide any evidence of our presence. “Delay him as much as you can. I’m outta here.”
I stuffed the binoculars and radio into my backpack and crawled backwards from the hilltop. Once I was certain that I was out of sight, I began to jog toward our hideaway. I crested a hill, slipped the pack from my shoulder, and pushed the call button on the radio. Levi didn’t pick up.
“Come on. Come on.” I clenched my jaw and scrubbed my hand over my face. Where were Levi and Hannah? They were supposed to keep the radio with them at all times. Shaking my head with frustration, I shoved the radio back into the pack. I ran down one hill and up the next, scanning the ground for badger holes and other tripping hazards. Ten minutes later, I paused and punched the call button.
The day promised to be a scorcher. Sweat trickled down my face as I waited for them to answer. I kicked a rock and sent it skittering over the dry earth, impatience eating a hole in my stomach.
“Dammit,” I snarled, slinging the pack over my shoulder. I ran for another ten minutes before trying the call again. No response from the teenagers. I sucked down half a bottle of water before taking off again. When I climbed over a barbed wire fence—only two miles from the house—I tried another call. Again, nothing.
Shit. Almost an hour had passed since I spoke to Ripper. He said that they were heading out after breakfast. I’d asked him to delay the search as much as possible. Still, Boyd was the man in charge, and if he took it into his head to grab something to eat and to take off immediately, there wasn’t much Ripper could do to stop him.
Of course, no matter how things played out, Ripper wouldn’t allow Boyd to hurt the teenagers. But if Ripper had to kill Boyd, we’d have to strike the remaining members of the brigade immediately. Tuck, Jerrilyn, Dwight, and Darryl carried weapons. Sahdev was likely chained in a back room—a sitting duck—and Bear and Kenzie could be anywhere. Too many unknowns spelled danger for our friends. Better to clear our hideaway out before Ripper and Boyd arrived.
Sweat stung my eyes as I picked up the pace. I scrambled down the final hill and ran toward the house. Rounding an outbuilding, I spied Hannah and Levi in the backyard. Hannah held one of Grandpa Kurt’s compound bows. Levi was helping her adjust her grip on the bow handle. I guess once she decided to learn how to shoot a handgun she was willing to master other weapons, too. Commendable, but why hadn’t they carried the radio into the yard?