It Ain't Me, Babe (Hades Hangmen #1)(62)
It was the f*ckin’ worst form of torture and, for the first time in my life, I almost crashed my bike.
As we approached the back road to the clubhouse, a blacked-out truck parked off to the side caught my attention. Cutting the headlights, plunging us into darkness, I signaled for Mae to be quiet as I turned slowly into the gravel side road. I moved quietly to higher ground to check out who was scoping the compound.
Rolling to the top of the grassy hill, I could see the black Chevy truck about fifty yards away from the main gate. It had a f*ckin’ ton of ammo in the back, what looked like homemade IED’s, and a big ol’ swastika bumper sticker on the tailgate.
“F-Fuck!” I hissed quietly.
“What is it?” Mae asked, concern in her breathy voice.
“FUCK!” I spat out again.
Mae’s whole body stiffened. “What, Styx? You are scaring me.”
“G-Gotta take you b-back.”
“No! What about you? I want to stay with you—”
“Mae! G-Gotta get you back inside. G-Gotta be p-protected.”
As quietly as possible we rolled down the hill, engine cut, then I hit the remote for the gate, the metal grinding as the gate started to move. That got the Neo f*ckers’ attention. Wheels began burning rubber and they jetted off down the road.
Pussies. Don’t have the balls to take on the Hangmen on even ground.
My bike’s engine roared to life as I hit the ignition and gunned it to the gate. I skidded to an abrupt stop. “M-Mae, off. Tell Ky to call me. I g-gotta chase them.” We had to know where they were hiding out. It was my only chance. The pricks were getting too close to getting their hit.
Too f*ckin’ close.
Mae began shaking her head, tears filling her eyes, gripping too tight to my waist, refusing to let me go.
Jumping off my bike, I lifted her up and planted her feet on the asphalt instructing her exactly what to tell Ky. “Y-you g-got all that?” I asked when I’d finished speaking. She nodded and I jumped back on my bike. She still didn’t move.
“Mae! D-do it!”
“Styx—” she cried, stepping forward.
“B-BABE! GO!”
Stumbling away, she begged, “Come back to me… please…” and ran full force into the clubhouse.
FUCK!
Roaring away with a screech on the empty road, I pursued the Chevy. I was sure I caught sight of the f*cker a few miles down the road. Dropping back, I killed my headlights, smirking when the skinheads slowed, thinking they got away good and free. They had no idea of the f*ckin’ shitstorm about to blow their way.
Forty-five minutes later, the Chevy turned onto a dark dirt road, leading to a rundown cattle ranch. The skinheads in black balaclavas got out and entered the old barn. The f*ckers were all together, easy targets, but Ky still hadn’t called for the location.
Parking my Harley off the side of the road, I checked my cell.
Fuck, it was dead.
SHIT!
I knew I should’ve waited for the brothers. As much as I knew I could handle shit myself, I weren’t sure I’d come out of this alive. But I had no choice. The f*ckers could move again and we’d be back to square one.
I needed to protect Mae. Couldn’t have her taking a slug in the skull for me too.
Mind made up, I pulled out my handgun from the waistband of my jeans, checked it was loaded and drew two Uzi submachine guns from my Harley’s saddlebags. Now armed, I ran across the field to the side of the barn, ducking down beside an old rusty Dodge Coronet RT. I glanced through the loose panels of wood. The Nazis were sitting around on tables, the *s deep in conversation, debriefing no doubt, planning their next step. No weapons in sight, but the f*ckers would be packing heat for sure.
There were nine Neo’s in total. ’Bout the right size for a small Klan out here in Austin—but it was eight more than my posse of one.
Gripping an Uzi in each hand, I took a deep breath and ran round to the front entrance. With a kick of the shitty gate, the skinheads were right in my line of fire, shock clear on their ugly f*ckin’ faces.
Only one thought went through my head as I opened fire, a spray of bullets ripping through their bodies like butter; chunks of brain plastering the wooden walls of the barn and blood gushing outta ’em like geysers…
… Heil Hitler, motherf*ckers!
Chapter Seventeen
Mae
I could actually hear my heartbeat thunder in my ears as I crashed through the doors of the clubhouse. I made a beeline for the lounge where really loud music blasted out of massive speakers. I threw open the door and immediately searched the room.
No Ky!
Flame was sat on a chair, a sharp blade in his hands, slicing down his left arm, smiling as he looked at the dripping blood. Running in his direction, I paused before him, but he was too entranced. Grimacing at what he was doing, I sucked in a breath, trying to ignore the tinny smell of copper.
“Flame!”
A spurt of blood gushed from his wrist onto my jacket and his head rolled back with an ecstatic hiss from his mouth.
I pushed at his shoulders. “FLAME!”
The brother snapped open his coal-black eyes and, gripping my wrists, pulled me forward, his teeth bared and covered in a watery sheen of blood. Recognition soon flooded his features and he instantly let go of my wrists.