Hell on Wheels (Black Knights Inc. #1)(80)
Talk about a dagger straight to his already shredded heart.
And because he’d been hurting, humiliated over having her see him when he was crying like a friggin’ baby and screaming his idiot head off, because the sight of her there, naked in his arms, looking at him with such compassion and sweet, sweet sympathy when he’d killed the one person in the world she loved more than anything only made him feel unimaginably guilty, he’d pulled out the prick card, played his hand like an ace, and said things he didn’t mean. Things sure to make her turn away from him so he wouldn’t have to deal with the fact that he was dying inside.
Shit.
Just the thought of the look wallpapered all over her face before he’d been forced to turn his back on her—or drop to his knees and confess everything—made him want to curl up in a ball and cry. It’d been a look of such surprise, such disillusionment, such…hurt.
Someone should just shoot him and put him out of his misery.
Oh, wait. Someone had shot him and that only added to his current list of This Is Why My Life Sucks.
“Nate?” she dragged him from his relentless thoughts. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”
“Yeah,” he flicked a glance into his rearview mirror, one of the ten thousand or so peeks he’d made at the thing since this morning. “That was Ozzie callin’ this morning…” And, oh, great, that’s just what they needed, him reminding them both of exactly what Ozzie’s call had interrupted. “…Uh,” he cleared his throat and doggedly pushed ahead. “Anyway, that guy I shot at your parents’ house? The one you think is your mugger? Well, he’s known t’work with two accomplices. And if I’m not mistaken, the black SUV back there has been following us since we crossed the city limits. Don’t look,” he demanded when she began to do just that.
“Do you really think they’d try for us in broad daylight?”
Broad daylight? God love the woman, but she was innocent as a baby. “It’s sunset and we’re currently headin’ west, which puts the sun directly in our eyes, effectively blindin’ us. We’re at a tactical disadvantage.”
He felt her arm move as she reached for his reserve weapon. This morning, she’d asked for the little Colt. He’d lifted a brow but complied with her request, only to watch, quite mesmerized, as she again press-checked the chamber before shoving the piece into the waistband of her jeans.
And why watching her pink-tipped fingers fondle his weapon gave him a hard-on was anyone’s guess. It was probably something he should discuss with that psychiatrist whose card was shoved beneath his mattress.
“Don’t pull it,” he warned her now. “The last thing we need is to get hauled to the clink by the CPD for carryin’ an unlicensed, concealed weapon.”
“I won’t pull unless I need to,” she assured him, her voice remarkably steady considering.
“I gotta connect with headquarters,” he told her. “So I’m gonna switch over, and you won’t be able to communicate with me through the mic until we’re safe inside the compound. Okay?”
“Yeah, okay.” He heard her swallow, and the dry, clicking sound was the only indication she gave of her fear. The damned woman looked like a creampuff but was turning out to be tough as nails.
Before he thumbed the speed dial on his phone, he had to get one more thing out there. “Ali?”
“What?”
“I’m sorry.”
Silence. He probably shouldn’t be too surprised by that.
“I, uh, I just wanted you to know,” he finished lamely, then pressed two on his phone, listening to the series of clicks and beeps that established his secure connection once he stated his password.
***
Dagan ran across the bagel shop’s roof and dropped down behind the giant, industrial, air-conditioning unit. The damn thing sounded like a jet-engine, but he wasn’t going to need his ears for the next few moments, because he’d heard everything he’d needed to hear just before he’d scrambled up the old iron fire-escape and hoisted himself onto the sticky tar roof across from Black Knights Inc.
Namely, he’d heard the unmistakably throaty grumble of Ghost’s monster of a motorcycle.
“Why the hell aren’t you using the bolt-hole, you stupid ass?” he growled as he flicked the safety on his Glock.
Fifteen lousy rounds.
That’s all he had because he’d left his extra magazines in his go-bag inside the SUV parked down the block.
Stupid, stupid.
But not as stupid as Nathan Weller coming in the front door of Black Knights Inc. when he had a perfectly good, totally anonymous back door he could safely utilize.
Dagan had been reaching for his cell phone, about to make an anonymous phone call to the boys at Black Knights Inc. to inform them of the two shadowy figures lurking around the edges of the Knights’ compound, when he’d heard the guttural roar of that badass bike.
So now, instead of one easy-peasy phone call, he was forced to hustle into a covering position with fifteen lousy rounds.
***
Nate was coming down the street like a bat out of hell. Luckily, there was no traffic on the road or he’d have probably scared the crap out of the other drivers.
He gave Manus in the guardhouse a thumbs-up and the big wrought iron gate was just beginning to swing slowly open when the hairs at his nape snapped to sudden attention. Warning Will Robinson! He barely had time to reach for the handgun in his waistband before utter chaos exploded.