Give Me War

by Kate McCarthy

  Mitch is oblivious, his head bent as he reads something on his phone.

  Jesus.

  I move quickly, pressing the muzzle of my gun to the back of his head. “Drop the weapon.”

  Mitch spins around as Rider lets the hatchet drop to the floor. But Rider spins too, and he’s fast for a big bastard. Fast enough to strike out and knock the gun from my hand. It spins across the floor. He bends for his hatchet, but I’m quick too and lunge forward in a tackle before he gets it in hand. We hit the window. Glass shatters, splintering the air as we fly right through it. Shards cut my face and arms as we hit the ground outside, Rider taking the brunt of the fall.

  “Sonofabitch!” I hear Mitch shout through the broken window. He roars for Kelly while I catch my breath. Rider is worse off. He’s gasping. I take advantage, getting both hands around his throat, ignoring the Vipers and Sentinels going at it around us. Lifting his head by the neck, I bash it down hard against the earth. “Where did they go?”

  A cut on his brow trickles blood into his eye, yet he simply grins at me. “You’ll never find them.”

  “Tell me!” I roar, bashing his head into the ground a second time, my fingers squeezing at the same time, cutting off more of his air.

  “She’s—” He gurgles.

  I loosen my grip. “She’s what?”

  “She’s a hot piece,” he gasps, and laughs. “I got a good feel.”

  Fury takes over. I seize his shirt with my left hand and slam my fist in his face. Again and again. Travis grabs me, dragging me off him. “No!” I elbow my brother in the gut and his hold loosens. I take advantage, leaping back on Rider and grabbing him by the shoulders, shaking him hard. “Where’s my wife?”

  But he doesn’t answer. His body is limp. He’s unconscious.

  I rise to my feet, staggering. Travis grips my shoulder, steadying me. “Mitch has something.”

  “What?”

  My eldest brother is jogging towards me. He gives me his phone. There’s a message lit up on the screen from Unknown Sender.

  You’ll find her here.

  It’s followed by a bunch of numbers.

  My brows snap together and my eyes lift to Mitch. “What the hell are these?”

  “I think they’re co-ordinates.”

  “Unknown sender,” I mutter. “How do we trust it?”

  Mitch shakes his head. “What other choice do we have?”

  “Does the AFP have anyone else on the inside besides Rossi?”

  “I can put a call in, see what I can find out, but that kind of information takes time.”

  “Which we don’t have.” I swipe a hand over my face, allowing my mind to race for a few short precious seconds. My brother is right. What other choice do we have? “Forward the message to Seth,” I tell him, referring to our manager back at the office. He’s already tapping buttons when I turn to Travis, adding, “Get Mac, wherever the hell she is, and meet us at my car. Let’s go.”

  “They can’t be far,” Mitch says, handing me my gun as we jog from the house.

  I tuck it away, muttering a thanks before asking him about Rossi.

  “Kelly’s with him. We called an ambulance.”

  My vintage Porsche is blocked in by bikes. We climb in regardless and I turn the engine. She roars to life and I drive up over the front yard, tearing across lawn after front lawn as we fly down the street. We pass by all the Harley’s littering the road and surge over the gutter, hitting bitumen with a squeal. Checking my rear-view mirror, I see Travis and Mac running for his car. They slide in, my brother already driving before Mac gets the passenger door shut. He roars up behind me, keeping tight on my tail as Mitch barks directions, using the map on his phone. “Where the hell are we going?”

  “Seth says the co-ordinates show an image of what looks like a dried-up riverbed in the middle of nowhere.” He flips the map to satellite and I glance across, seeing nothing but bushland.

  A sick feeling knots my stomach. That doesn’t look good. It looks like a place someone would go to dump a body. “Have you tried replying to the message?”

  “Yes. It’s not delivering.”

  “I don’t like this.”

  “Me either,” Mitch mutters.

  I plant my foot down, the car fishtailing as we turn a corner. “Tell Seth to call up the council plans for the area.”

  He goes to make the call when the phone rings in his hand. My eyes dart to the screen. It’s Mac. Mitch answers, putting the device on speaker. “Yeah?”

  “I sent the co-ordinates to Echo!” she yells into the phone as if we’re on Mars and not just a car-length in front. Travis is keeping a hot pace behind us in his Subaru.

  “I didn’t give you the co-ordinates.”

  “We got them from Seth!” she yells again.

  “Jesus Christ,” Mitch mutters.

  “What?”

  “Nothing, just … get to the point.”

  “Well, she called up the council plans for the area.”

  Mitch and I share a glance, seeming to share the same unspoken sentiment. Echo is smart. Deadly smart. We need her on the payroll. “And?”

  “It pinpoints to the entrance of a large underground concrete storm drain.” She sounds smug when she answers. I know there’s panic underneath it all, but my little sister is an iceberg during a crisis. “The storm drain leads into the old Channing River that dried out over a decade ago.” The pieces of the puzzle start falling into place, and suddenly the trust I was putting into those co-ordinates gains strength.

  “Let me guess. That underground storm drain runs right alongside the Vipers safe house.”

  “Bingo,” she replies.

  My hands white-knuckle the steering wheel. That bastard is underground, escaping with my wife like a rat.

  “Tell Echo thanks,” I call out.

  “Already did.”

  Mitch hangs up.

  “So Grudge has dug himself a little underground tunnel leading from the house to the drain. I didn’t see it when I searched the house, but I wasn’t looking for some kind of escape hatch,” I admit, feeling stupid. “I didn’t think the Vipers were that smart.”

  “We’re smarter,” my brother replies. “Because when he reaches the end of that storm drain, we’ll be waiting.” Mitch starts tapping on his phone, dialling someone. He puts it to his ear.

  “Who are you calling?”

  He glances over at me, his expression grim. “Bomb squad. They’re almost at the safe house. They’ll need the new co-ordinates.”

  He passes on the information while the sick knot in my stomach pulls tighter. “What about Coby?” I ask when he hangs up. Evie’s brother was staking out the Vipers Campbelltown compound with Henry when we got Evie’s location, but it’s a good hour or more away from where we are now. “He’ll need the new co-ordinates too.”

  “Seth’s already on it.”

  I make another turn, my eyes flicking to the rear view mirror to make sure Travis is still behind me. “Does Coby know about the vest?”

  “He was given a brief overview of the situation but that part was left out. If he knows his little sister is strapped up in explosives he’ll lose it and we need him here in one piece.”

  My fingers tap an anxious beat against the steering wheel. “So what’s the length of this storm drain?” I ask, knowing the best thing I can do for Evie right now is keep my shit together and focus on the task at hand.

  “The section from the house to the river looks about a couple of kilometres.”

  I do the math. “So what’s that by foot, around twenty minutes or so?”

  “Yeah, that sounds right.”

  I check my watch. It’s been about fourteen since they went inside the house. “We’ve got six minutes.”

  “Turn here,” Mitch says, and I pull off the road.

  We’re driving alongside the dry, rocky riverbed now, but the road ends just up ahead.

  “How much further?”

  “Too far to walk and get there on
time.”

  Moments from reaching the dead end, I jerk the steering wheel to the left. We zoom down the embankment and straight onto the path of the empty waterway, the front bumper of my car scraping across the ground. The car bounces wildly but I don’t lose speed. Debris kicks up behind me and I lose sight of Travis in the dust, but I know he’s following.

  My tyres fly over the unsteady terrain, rocks tearing at the undercarriage of my car. Right now I’m kicking myself for keeping the Porsche—a sentimental and impractical decision. She’s got guts and glory and has never let me down. Until now. “Sorry, girl,” I mumble, while promising silently to myself that if we get out of this okay, I’m buying an entire fleet of battle-ready tanks.

  I squint in the distance, seeing a flash of metallic white. “Is that a car?”

  “Shit. Yes. Stop here. The drain exit is just up ahead. Right near that car.”

  I pull over to the side, giving Travis room to drive up and stop beside me. The four of us alight in unison, shutting our doors and jogging towards the storm drain. “How are we gonna play this?” Mac asks.

  “With you staying right here,” Mitch replies.

  My little sister fumes. “You know what? Fuck all of you. I’ll still be trying to prove myself when I’m eighty.”

  “The way you’re going,” Travis mutters, “you won’t make it to eighty.”

  “Neither will any of you,” she points out, her reasoning logical and her tone snide.

  “Enough!” I jerk my head towards the car we’re closing in on. It’s a white Toyota Corolla. A little beat up. Something you wouldn’t look twice at in traffic. It appears empty, and likely planted earlier in case Grudge’s meeting went to shit and he needed a sneaky getaway. “Go check it out, Mac. And keep your voice low from here on out. We don’t know how far Grudge is from the exit.”

  Outwardly relieved at the olive branch and the offer of a task, she walks over to the car while we keep moving, one eye on our sister and the other on the storm drain exit. Mac’s long stride eats up the distance quickly, the gun in her palms raised and ready. She points it at the windows as she checks inside before tucking her weapon away. She gives the all-clear signal before giving a yank on the driver’s side door. It opens and she reaches in, flipping down the visor. Keys drop out. Mac snatches them up with a grim, satisfied expression, pocketing them as she bends and pops the boot.

  After rounding the back of the car, Mac gives the space a quick inspection before reaching in, flipping over a thin, dark plaid blanket. She comes out with a semi-automatic rifle, unloading one, and then another, with unsurprising efficiency. When it comes to our sister, nothing shocks us anymore.

  Mitch sighs. “She’s better than most of the cops in my division.”

  I give my brother a pointed look. “Don’t ever let her hear you say that.”

  We reach the side of the storm drain exit, the three of us pulling our guns. It’s a large concrete cylinder, built into the side of a hill and tall enough to walk through without having to crouch. During the wet season it would have gushed into the river like a geyser, but we’ve been in drought for a long time and now it sits empty, making it the perfect escape tunnel.

  I speak quietly. “How do we get the drop on this bastard? We may have the element of surprise here, but while he has that remote, our hands are still tied.” I glance at my watch. “We have about a minute to come up with a plan.”

  “We get the drop on him literally,” Mitch says, and lays out the details quickly. It’s not a great plan because there’s a lot that could go wrong, but we’re out of time.

  “Let’s do this,” I tell them the moment Mac joins us. Grabbing my sister, I drag her behind the nearest, largest tree I can find while my brothers take their own positions. It’s an Australian Eucalypt, the base wide, it’s branches long and leafy.

  We both put our backs to the trunk, guns lowered in both hands, muzzles pointed to the ground.

  “What’s the plan?” Mac asks, her head tipped to the dappled light of the blue sky as we wait.

  “The plan is for you to stay behind this tree until this is over.”

  “Your plan sucks.”

  “Be quiet,” I hiss.

  My heart is pounding a mile a minute, my mind racing even faster. I’m trying to go over contingencies while straining for noise from the storm drain, but my brain is fried, and all I hear are the squawking of crows.

  Five minutes pass but it feels like five hours. My fear climbs exponentially. Did we get this wrong? Did he take the opposite path? Was there another way out? Where the fuck is she?

  And then I hear it. The sweet, blessed sound of Evie, her voice bouncing off the cement tunnel as they move towards the exit. “You know the last time I saw something like you, I flushed it.” She sounds winded but okay. “Get it? You’re a fucking turd, Grudge.”

  I turn sideways, peering out behind the tree and into the drain. They’re not visible yet but their voices are getting closer.

  “Fuck you’re a bitch. Shut ya trap. I’m over your fuckin’ shit.” He sounds it too, and I know my wife must have been riling him the whole way. My chest swells with pride. She’s hoping it’ll force a misstep. People do stupid things when they’re pissed off, and we haven’t seen any sign of intelligent life in Grudge yet.

  “Speaking of shit,” she retorts, continuing her little tirade, “you’ve got a little just there.” There’s a pause. “Just above your top lip.” Another pause, and she affects a disgusted tone. “Dude, that’s pretty gross.”

  I hear a loud thump. Evie cries out, and the pained sound echoes outward. Mac flinches beside me. I close my eyes briefly, breathing past the fury.

  “You like that, bitch?”

  “Don’t be so dramatic, Grudge. I was only trying to help you.” She’s wheezing now, clearly hurting but still flinging her insults. “No one wants to walk around with shit on their lips.”

  “Fuck,” he growls, and Evie cries out again.

  “What’s wrong, Grudge? Did I embarrass you? I’d give a fuck, but it doesn’t really go with this outfit,” she tells him.

  Their legs appear first, the top half of their bodies still shadowed by the tunnel. The sunlight climbs up and over them as Grudge inches forward, enough for me to see her still wrapped up in the damn vest, dashing my hopes that the biker might have ditched it somewhere along the way.

  The burley bastard has Evie held in front of him. She’s still beaten and bloody and covered in filth, but she’s alive. He’s got one hand wrapped tight around the remote, the other fisted in her hair, yanking her head back as he pushes her along with his body.

  “Bitch, you’re more annoyin’ than my old lady.”

  “You got an old lady?” Evie sounds incredulous as Grudge does a scan of the area before pushing them forward, stepping out of the tunnel. “Does she enjoy riding your tiny dick, Grudge? I’ve heard those biker women like to celebrate the small things. Does she cheer you on when you manage to stick it in?” I step out from behind the tree, raising the gun in my hands. “Because you—” Evie breaks off when she sees me, tears welling up in an instant. Faltering for only a moment, she swallows and keeps going. “Because you—”

  Seeing me waiting for him, Grudge jerks Evie to a stop by yanking at her hair. She cuts off her rant and sucks in a sharp breath of pain, which he seems to enjoy. “Valentine.” I feel Travis and Mac move into position at my back. “Here we are again.”

  “So it seems.”

  His brow furrows. “You seem to be missing one.”

  My eyes flick up to Mitch where he stands on top of the concrete drain. I give an imperceptible nod. My brother drops down, landing lightly on his feet. He lifts his gun before anyone can blink, jamming the muzzle into the back of Grudge’s head.

  I force a cocky grin even though I’m not feeling an inch of happiness. “Looks like you found him.”

  “The remote,” Mitch demands.

  There’s a pause, and my heart pounds heavy in my chest.
>
  Then Grudge lifts it up, holding it loosely in two fingers.

  Keeping his gun steady, Mitch snatches it up, and I take my first deep breath in what feels like months.

  “Now step away from Evie,” I order.

  Grudge flares his nostrils, his eyes shifting to the Corolla and back to me in obvious frustration, but he doesn’t let go. He grabs her bicep, his other hand still fisted in Evie’s hair. “Your brother isn’t goin’ ta shoot me,” he taunts, though his eyes appear wary and unsure. “He’s a cop. He’ll go down for killin’ an unarmed man.”

  “You’re right. Mitch can’t shoot you.” My brother is a highly respected, heavily decorated detective in the Australian Federal Police. He wouldn’t get away with shooting a biker execution style in the back of the head. I would never put him in that position.

  My eyes shift to Evie. She knows exactly what I need her to do. My paranoia had us training for all kinds of scenarios since the Jimmy incident, including this one. With my line of work, and her in the public eye, it would’ve been ludicrous to assume we were untouchable.

  “But I can.”

  Evie’s legs give out beneath her a split-second later, and when she drops like a dead weight I take the shot. The crack is loud, my aim true. Birds screech at the noise. Their wings flap hard as they launch from surrounding trees. Mitch steps out of the way as the biker sways backward, blood spraying from the hole in his forehead. His hands fall away from Evie and he drops like a stone, his head cracking hard against the earth, eyes open and sightless.

  Travis takes hold of my shoulder and gives it a brief squeeze before letting go. “Good shot.”

  I exhale a shaky breath and lower the gun, looking at Evie.

  It’s over.

  She looks at me.

  It’s fucking over.

  A sob tears from her chest.

  “Baby,” I whisper.

  She starts toward me. I tuck my gun in the back of my jeans and meet her halfway. I’m hesitant to wrap my arms around her and instead I palm both her cheeks. Another sob rips free as tears roll freely down her cheeks.