Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 132892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 664(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 664(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Flames had been through here, and recently.
Creepy as hell.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I managed to coordinate with Pic along the way, sending him quick text messages when we stopped for gas. Marsh let me keep the phone because I’d told him I’d left Levi a message, and he’d be getting back to me. He hadn’t liked it—that much was obvious—but he’d agreed. I had plenty of time to consider the situation while we rode, which always one of my favorite things about being on the bike. Things were grim, no question, but there were some good signs, too.
For one thing, Marsh hadn’t killed me yet.
For another, my club brother, Painter, had already agreed to meet me in Ellensburg. That meant he’d chosen to violate his parole—a huge fuckin’ risk. He’d be coming in behind the main Reapers pack and meeting up with me separately. Whatever happened after that, at least I wouldn’t be facing it alone.
Along the way there were several times where the smoke was thick enough that I wondered if they’d shut down the highway, but we finally pulled into town around four thirty. It took us a while to find a parking spot for the bikes, because the streets were choked with hot rods. Things felt safer with all the witnesses. No fuckin’ way Marsh was planning on taking me out, not here. Not unless he was planning suicide by cop—they were out in force for the event.
We parked the bikes just off the main strip, leaving a prospect to keep an eye on them. Down the street was an old brick bank building—you know, one of those with an engraved date on the cornerstone and arches over all the doors. Marsh led us inside and I froze.
Cop bar.
Not like it was full of guys in uniform, but there were framed pictures of officers on the walls, along with newspaper articles and such. I figured most of the local cops were on duty for the rally, but there was a group of three men watching us, and they didn’t strike me as civilians.
Jesus fuck, I had no idea where Marsh was going with this, but he was a fuckin’ moron. We were meeting his contacts here, of all places? Made no sense, unless it was a setup. This wasn’t Hallies Falls and I knew damned well the Ellensburg police department wasn’t in the Nighthawks’ pocket.
Whatever Marsh planned to do, they’d be on him in a heartbeat.
The bar owners had set up a beer garden using temporary fencing in one of the side streets, and by the time I made it outside Marsh already had a tray of shots in front of him. He downed three in a row while I watched, laughing and groping any girl stupid enough to get close. Looking around, I spotted three uniformed officers on the other side of the fence. Then the guys I suspected very strongly were cops in civvies came out, grabbing a table not far away.
Yeah, this was a fuckin’ fishbowl.
I turned away to hide the phone as I unlocked it manually—no fingerprint protection for me, not when the man you’re protecting it from wouldn’t think twice about cutting a finger off—and sent Picnic a quick message.
ME: Downtown at the Banner Bank Tavern. They have a beer garden on one of the side streets—closed to traffic. Marsh and his crew are drunk as fuck and he’s tweaking. Paranoid. Got six cops watching us. Worried that Marsh will blow it.
PICNIC: Across the street. Don’t want to come over unless we need to. Think it might set Marsh off?
ME: Hang back for now. Painter anywhere near you yet?
PICNIC: He’s behind us, should be here soon.
ME: K
Deleting the messages, I wandered over to the outdoor counter, which was basically a pass-through counter to the inside of the building. I ordered a pitcher and glanced through the chain link while I waited. Sure enough, across the street Pic, Horse, Bam Bam, and Ruger walked along a line of custom choppers, looking them over and talking casually.
“Hey, Cooper!” Sadie said, and I turned to get my first good look at her since last night. Thick, pancake makeup covered a swollen face, and her eyes were glazed. Painkillers, probably. She’d had at least one shiner forming—probably two—and yet here she was, nodding and smiling like nothing had happened. Christ, I hoped it was just an act to get through this fucked up, crazy-ass day. “I hear your cousin is coming! I had so much fun with him last time he was in town . . .”
“Yeah, he said he’d head over. Should be here soon. I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you.”
Unlikely, considering last time she saw Painter, she spent the night puking on him. Behind her, I noticed one of the cops leaning over, speaking quietly into his shoulder radio.