“Fuck! He’s heading toward town,” he growled.
Three patrol cars were hot on their ass as they sped after the crotch rocket.
“Call Memphis,” Diesel told Triton. “And make sure he has the street into town blocked off.”
In the distance, three cop cars were coming toward Clay.
Zane slowed, boxing him in, but the fucker tore the cycle down a gully and around the cop cars and sped off, slipping and sliding.
Clay almost laid the bike down, but managed to right it.
Fuck.
Using the ditch, Zane gunned the SUV down and then up the incline to go around the cop cars. Zane skidded on the road before manhandling the vehicle and zooming after Clay.
Triton got on the phone with Memphis and called it in.
Clay turned and fired back at them. The bullet entered the hood of their vehicle.
Now that there weren’t any cops in the way, Diesel leaned out his window and returned fire while Isaac did the same.
Sirens sounded in the distance and more cop cars tried to corner Clay. The fucker went up and over the center divider and straight toward the middle of town. He hopped onto the sidewalk and headed directly for the farmer’s market.
People screamed and scrambled out of the motorcycle’s path.
Awnings fell and were ripped away.
They squealed around the corner and were stopped by a fallen hot dog cart.
“Hold on!” Isaac shouted and dove halfway out the window to grab onto the material of an awning.
Water, mud, and rocks flew into the window when Isaac wadded the large piece of awning into a ball in his lap.
The street was a dead end where the community held the winter festival. It would only be a matter of time before Clay realized that and came back their way.
Isaac pulled a knife and began cutting slits in the tarp.
Diesel kept an eye on the bike in case Clay ditched it.
When Mr. Martin found himself blocked in, he flipped the bike around and gunned it back toward them.
Diesel put a bullet in the gas tank of the crotch rocket, but it did nothing to slow the guy down.
Clay zoomed through pedestrians, causing people to slip and scramble. A few went down hard on the wet pavement.
“Damn it, too many people!”
“Yeah, no clear shot,” Zane yelled back and hit the gas, making a hard U-turn.
“Go, go, go!” Isaac shouted and they flew after the cycle.
Diesel’s phone rang.
“Diesel! We’ve set up a roadblock on the interstate enough to slow him down if he gets back to the highway.”
“Tell him that I’ll net the wheel,” Isaac shouted.
“Isaac has a plan if you can slow the bastard down enough.”
“We’ll do our best,” Memphis shouted and hung up.
The road ahead narrowed, lined with any available law enforcement and even some townsmen. That and the wet street literally forced Clay to slow. He didn’t stop, though; the fucker flipped around and came back toward them.
Diesel aimed for the tire and Isaac let the hole-riddled tarp fly. The bullet missed, but the tarp caught.
The cuts in the tarp widened just enough to wrap around the front wheel and jam the fabric between the front fork and the wheel, bringing the bike to an abrupt stop.
Clay went flying over the front of the bike and rolled several times across the pavement.
Before the SUV rolled to a stop, Triton jumped out and ran toward the fallen biker.
“Shit!” Zane shouted.
“Fuck!” Diesel lunged out of the passenger door, chasing after Triton. He’d forgotten how fast Triton could run and it took him several precious seconds to reach him.
Triton suddenly had a weapon in his hand and was screaming at Clay, who lay on the ground groaning.
“You motherfucker! You deserve to fucking die!” Tears streamed down Triton’s face. The weapon wobbled, his finger on the trigger and his face bright with rage. “Where’s Fraser?”
“Triton, baby. You don’t want to do this.” He soothed him like he had that wild fawn.
“Yes, I do!” Triton fired the weapon and the shot went into the street near Clay’s head.
“Where’s Fraser?” Triton screamed through his teeth.
The weapon shook.
Everyone stopped, the sound of the gunfire and the unfolding scene brought them to complete stillness.
Clay froze and stopped rolling. He put out his hands. “Stop him,” Clay hissed at Diesel.
“Shut the fuck up,” Zane snarled.
“Triton, look at me,” Diesel said, ignoring everyone else except his boy.
Triton’s eyes burned with a bottled up anger when they flashed to Diesel. Triton’s gaze didn’t linger—his eyes snapped back to Clay.
“Tell me!” Triton took a step forward and leaned down, the weapon just inches from Clay’s face.
“Triton, I have Fraser in the back of my squad car,” Memphis said, approaching on the opposite side from Diesel.
“Help me,” Clay cried again.
Triton dashed at his eyes with his free hand and the weapon aiming at Clay shook.
“Boy, look at me,” Diesel ordered.
Triton looked at him again, but the weapon stayed aimed at Clay.
“He’s not worth going to jail for, baby.”
Tears swam in Triton’s blue eyes. “He fucking hurt me, beat me. He kidnapped Fraser and Miles.”
“And he’ll pay. I promise.” Diesel swallowed. “But I can’t lose you. Please don’t let him take you from me, Triton.”
Triton sucked in several gasping and noisy sobs and suddenly threw the weapon on the ground.
Diesel rushed in and lifted Triton against his body and held him close. “Shhh, it’s okay, boy. I’ve got you.”
“Diesel,” Triton sobbed. He could barely hear the words as he carried Triton back to the SUV.
Memphis snatched up Triton’s gun from the ground and tucked it away.
“We’ll take him.” Whip stepped up to the man on the ground.
“Thanks,” Memphis said and reached down to yank Clay upward.
Clay shoved a shoulder into Memphis and slammed into Whip.
“Gun!” Memphis shouted, and two shots rang out.
Diesel took three giant steps behind the barricade of his SUV. His hands shook as he raced them over Triton’s body, searching for injuries.
“I’m fine, I’m not hit,” Triton hurried to say, arms wrapped around his neck as he clung to him. For several tense moments, they stayed like that, hunkered down. His arms gripped Triton tightly.
“Clear,” Memphis called out.
Triton slowly turned in his arms and Diesel gazed at the scene over his head.
Whip stood over Clay pointing his weapon at the dead man. A hole bloomed in the man’s forehead and a gun lay in Clay’s lax grip.
That was how close Triton had come to dying. Diesel’s heart lurched.
“That’s for Axel, you motherfucker,” Whip growled.
“Whip, easy,” Memphis said quietly to the marshal and gently took the smoking gun from Whip’s hand.
Triton shuddered and Diesel turned the younger man away from the scene.
The door to a sheriff car was suddenly pushed open, and a young man jumped out and ran toward them.
“Fraser!”
“Oh, Triton,” Fraser sobbed.