Hell on Wheels (Black Knights Inc. #1)(30)

“I don’t know what you think,” Nate growled, “but there’s nothin’ doing between me and Ali. She’s just the little sister of my best friend. End of story.”

He really, really wished that was the end of the story.

“But her voice is so happy, so sunny,” Ozzie reminded Nate of the one rather humiliating moment of his day. Was he…? Yep, the kid actually had the audacity to flutter his eyelashes and make exaggerated googly-eyes.

Death wish. There was just no other answer.

He stared at the kid, hoping Ozzie would realize how close he was to getting plugged.

He didn’t.

“I think you should ask her out,” Ozzie declared, wiggling his brows.

“I don’t give a rat’s ass what you think I should—”

He stopped right there because the hairs at the back of his neck suddenly twitched with life. Carefully setting his beer atop the jukebox, he scanned the bar.

There. In the far corner. He allowed his vision to adjust to the shadows, and his eyes clashed with a cold, gray stare.

Uh-huh. He experienced a moment of…well, not recognition, because he’d never seen the man before. But it was certainly an instance of like-meeting-like.

Ol’ Mystery Man in the Corner was an operator, for what or for whom he couldn’t begin to guess. But the guy was an operator. He had a certain deadness about the eyes that said he’d been stripped of all his idealism and left with only one thing: the mission.

Lifting his chin in a gesture that succinctly conveyed come on over and introduce yourself, pendejo, Nate was momentarily stunned when Mystery Man simply slipped a hand into his jacket pocket and shook his head. Once. One quick jerk of the chin from left to right.

Just Nate’s luck. A man with balls bigger than brains. Did the guy really think he could get out of the bar?

Not likely.

Not with four of the Black Knights in residence.

“What?” Ozzie asked, instantly alert. The kid may be a nuisance of legendary status, but he was as much a warrior as any of them. He instinctively knew when the customary shit was about to hit the proverbial fan.

“Guy in the corner,” Nate said. “He’s gonna try’n’ make a break for it. We’re not gonna let ’im.”

Ozzie turned just in time to see Mystery Man slowly lift himself from his shadowy seat. Upon standing, Mr. Mystery faced the trio in the booth. Ali, Becky, and Buzzard—that dick—were completely unaware of the little war of calculated movements and cold, intense eye contact that was waging around them, which was just as well. Then Nate noticed the unmistakable hollow outline pressing into the fabric of the front pocket of the guy’s jacket, and his head nearly exploded. That distinct circle was pointing straight at Ali.

The f*cker dared?

Rage poured through him, hot as iron through a smelting furnace, but there was nothing for him to do about it. One wrong move and Ali could take a bullet. And that just wasn’t going to happen.

Not on his watch.

Not ever.

He stood stock-still and silently seethed. Had anyone been paying attention, he felt sure they’d see him pulling a teapot routine, steam pouring from his nostrils and ears.

The instant Mystery Man slid out the back door, both he and Ozzie bolted, grabbing for weapons as they went. The cold steel of his 13RTK Recon Tanto blade felt truly satisfying as he palmed it with one hand while reaching into his waistband for his .45 with the other. Just in case that wasn’t enough, he had two extra seven-round clips in his jacket pockets.

He just never felt quite dressed without enough firepower to start a small war, which probably said something rather unpleasant about his psyche, but who cared?

Not him.

He could hear the heavy footfalls of Dan and Boss behind them as both men sprang into action. Years of instinctual readiness made them react in less than a split second.

He smiled at the taletell shnick of Dan chambering a round into his baby—the Ruger P90 he’d inherited from his father.

The Knights liked to tease Dan about spending more time caressing that gun than he did his wife.

My wife isn’t likely to have to save my life anytime soon, was Dan’s stock reply.

Well Nate, for once, was mighty glad to know the little .45 was in good working order. Because they were likely going to have to shoot someone.

Mystery Man had had the extremely bad sense to point a gun at Ali. Chances were fairly good—unless he had one hell of an explanation—the dude wasn’t going to walk away from the encounter without a couple of extra holes in him.

The four of them burst through the back door into the alley. The overflowing dumpster across the way had gone from ripe to emanating what Nate could only assume must be poisonous fumes, but Mystery Man was nowhere in sight.

Damnit!

With a hand signal, he motioned for Boss and Dan to head left while he and Ozzie searched right.

Geez. This whole thing with Ali was steeped in un-f*cking-believable. To recap, she’d been mugged, bugged, and threatened with a bullet. And all of that in less than thirty-six hours.

Grigg, my brother, what the hell did you get us all involved in?

***

“The part of hovercraft doesn’t suit you, Frank,” Becky snarled as she tried to keep up with Ozzie and the program they were simultaneously trying to hack. “Breathing down my neck doesn’t make this process go any faster, it just makes me nervous.”