by Dez Burke
“Oh no,” Maggie whispers, her voice catching on a sob. “What if they’re after me? I’ve been working on a story about street gangs in Atlanta.”
I wonder if she’s completely lost it and gone over the edge. Can’t say I blame her. She’s in shock after seeing her cameraman shot right in front of her. I would be too if I hadn’t been through similar situations before.
There’s no way any news story this gal could dig up would bring out the firepower these guys are pumping. Not unless she’s about to expose the identity of a Russian mob or Columbian drug cartel operating in the area.
Being in the gun-running business myself, I know the identity of every organized gang in Georgia. Half of them are our customers. I can’t imagine any of them willing to stage a terrorist attack of this magnitude over a simple news story told by a pretty girl in high heels and a short skirt.
I don’t have time to persuade her otherwise, and maybe I shouldn’t. As long as Maggie believes she’s the target, then maybe she’ll try not to draw attention to herself. It could be a good thing unless she does something stupid.
I’ll play along with her if need be. Whatever it takes to keep her safe. I might not be able to save everyone here today, but I can save her.
Or die trying.
“If they’re after you, then you’d better stay hidden,” I say, trying to calm her down.
The shooters have stopped walking now. One has his automatic weapon pointed at a group of men in business suits on the floor in front of him. The other is watching the man on the second floor. They’re waiting for him to give a signal.
It can’t be good, whatever is about to happen.
The signal won’t be to put down their guns and walk away.
If I’m going to make a bold move, now is the time. If I had to guess, I’d say the Steel Infidels are the only ones packing heat in the food court besides the shooters. With Maggie under me, I’ll be taking a huge chance. The second I fire, I’m going to draw their attention and bullets our way.
Is it worth the risk?
I can’t think about it because it’s not as if I have a fucking choice.
Hopefully I can keep her body covered with mine. I’m big with solid muscle. Any bullets would have to go through me to get to her.
I hope.
What if I’m wrong? Damn! I hate making life or death decisions. I thought all that was behind me.
I don’t have to see Sam to know that he’s watching my every movement closely and waiting. He’ll be ready to back me up whenever I make a move. For the millionth time, I wish I knew where Flint was. Since I don’t, I can’t depend on his gunpower.
Best case scenario, it will be two against three.
Me and Sam against the three shooters.
We can take them. We’ve been dealt worse odds plenty of times. And we have the element of surprise on our side now. The shooters believe they’re in charge. They won’t be expecting anyone in the crowd to try anything.
“Don’t move a muscle,” I say quietly to Maggie. “I have a gun.” I feel her go dead still under my body. She’s trying not to breathe.
Carefully, I ease my gun around with my right hand so it’s in front of me yet hidden behind my left arm.
This is a suck-ass position to be firing from. Even for a sharpshooter like me. I’m almost flat on the tile floor, looking between the legs of a plastic dining table. A soft drink has turned over and is steadily dripping off the sides onto the floor. Since we’re almost completely under the table, I’m hoping the guy on the second floor can’t see the glint of my gun.
I focus on the shooter who has his automatic weapon pointed toward the group of men. He’s farther away, and Sam would never be able to make the shot from his angle. I’m hoping the same thoughts are running through his head. We’ve been friends for so long that we usually know what the other is thinking. I hope he knows it this time. I wish there was a way to warn him about the chance the guys might be wearing suicide vests.
Too late to think about it.
Now or never.
I line up the shot and pull the trigger.
All hell breaks loose a split-second later. Sam immediately fires his handgun from behind the pizza counter, aiming for the other shooter.
My first shot hits its target right between the eyes.
A clean shot to the head.
The man falls to the ground, dropping his automatic weapon. A businessman on the floor awkwardly tries to be a hero and scramble for the gun. The shooter on the second floor sprays the area with bullets, and the businessman dives away in the other direction.
It takes me only a moment to realize all of Sam’s shots have missed. I’m stunned. Normally Sam is an excellent marksman. The other shooter is running straight toward us now.
What the fuck?
Maybe Maggie was telling the truth. Otherwise why would he keep coming our way?
Sam continues firing and hits the guy in the leg. I wonder how many shots he has left before needing to reload?
The shooter stumbles and gets a round of bullets off, hitting the chairs and tables all around us. I suddenly realize why he’s not going down. He’s wearing a bulletproof vest under his coat, not a suicide vest. It’s like shooting a knight in armor.
“Dammit, Sam!” I mutter. “Why do I always have to do everything?”
The man looks straight at me and makes eye contact. Time stops for a split-second. He’s younger than I thought. No more than twenty-five. For a moment he appears confused, almost shocked. The realization has hit him that he’s not going to live through the day. That their carefully laid plans contained a few loopholes. Holes that are going to get him killed. All for some stupid ideas that he probably doesn’t even understand.
I can’t think about his age or hesitate. He put himself into this situation. I’ll get us out.
Lifting my gun a few inches, I aim for the guy’s head.
Kill or be killed.
I never miss under pressure, and I don’t miss this time either.
Two men down and one to go.
I turn my head to get the current location of the shooter on the second floor. He’s moved almost out of sight. There’s no way I can take him. He’s too far away for my weapon, though not for his. Bullets rain down on the tabletops around us. He knows where the shots came from that took down his buddies, and he’s pissed.
Maggie hasn’t made a sound or moved at all. I’m terrified she’s been hit. I’m afraid to find out. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve tried to protect someone and failed. My sleep is haunted by the past.
In the distance is the faint sound of sirens coming closer. The police and ambulances are on their way. I hope there’s a lot of them and they get here quickly.
Sweat drops down into my eyes, blurring my vision. I blink to clear the sweat.
Dammit!
The motherfucker on the second floor is gone.
I slide off Maggie, who hasn’t made a sound. Her cheek is placed flat against the tile floor and her eyes are squeezed tightly shut.
“Hey! Are you okay?” I ask her.
When she doesn’t answer right away, I touch her shoulder and shake her lightly. She blinks open her eyes.
“I think so,” she answers hesitantly.
“You would know if you weren’t,” I say. “Come on. We need to move now while we have a chance.”
“Is it over?”
“I don’t know for sure, and I’m not staying here in case it’s not. Move your ass now!”
Grabbing her with my free hand, I drag her out from under the table on her hands and knees. A man suddenly slides down on the floor beside us.
Flint.
“Where the fuck have you been all this time?” I ask.
It seems like a lifetime since I’ve seen him when it can’t be more than a few minutes. Ten at the most.
“Pinned down under a table in the middle of the food court,” he says. “Where’s Sam? I lost sight of him as soon as the shooting started.�
�
“He’s safe,” I reply. “He dove behind the counter and was able to keep track of where the shooters were from there. Help cover me while I get this gal somewhere safe.”
“I’ve got you,” he says. “Go!”
“Move, Maggie!” I tell her, giving her ass a shove forward. “Get behind the pizza counter. Stay down low.”
She quickly scurries across the floor on her hands and knees. We move along with her until we’re all safely behind the counter. I prop her back up against the wall for support.
“What took you so long?” Sam asks when we crouch down beside him. “Where’s the third shooter? I lost sight of him.”
“He’s gone,” I say. “The bastard made a run for it.”
“We need to get out of here too,” Flint says. “I can hear sirens. The police are on their way. We can’t be involved in all this. We need to go now.”
I relax my hold on Maggie and move to stand up.
A few people are already making a mad dash for the exit doors or running in the other direction toward the inside of the mall.
Maggie grabs my jacket sleeve. “Wait!” she says in a panicked voice. “What are you doing?”
“I’ve got to go. Are you sure you’re not hurt?”
She shakes her head slowly and gives me a dazed look. “No, I’m not hurt.”
“You’ll be okay then. I can’t stay here.”
“You’re leaving?” she says incredulously. “Where are you going? I don’t understand. You can’t just leave. The police will have questions. Don’t go.”
Her big green eyes fill with tears that threaten to spill over. “Don’t leave me,” she pleads. “Not yet. What if they come back?”
Damn! Those eyes are hard to resist. For a split second, I start to waver before common sense sets in. We’re bikers, we’re carrying guns that aren’t registered to us and tons of cash. Bullets from our guns took out two of the shooters. Hanging around to talk to the police would be a disaster. No way would we come out of it as heroes. The world doesn’t work that way. We would all be arrested and thrown in jail before midnight on a list of charges a mile long.
“I have to go,” I tell her reluctantly. “The police and the ambulances are on their way. The shooters are dead, so you’re safe now.”
“I’m not safe,” she says. “There’s one left. How can I ever feel safe now?”
“Come on,” Flint says. “Let’s move it. We don’t have time for chit-chat.”
Maggie lifts a trembling finger and points to her cameraman sprawled out on the floor a few feet from us. I can’t tell now if he’s breathing or not.
“What about Bill?” she chokes out. “Is he dead? You said he was breathing. I can’t see him breathing.”
I hate leaving her this way.
I shake my head.
“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “I can’t stay. Help will be here soon. Don’t leave this spot even to check on him until the police arrive. Do you understand? Promise me you won’t move.”
She lets go of my jacket sleeve and pulls her knees up close to her chest.
“I promise,” she says dully.
“Fuck,” I say when I realize she’s given up on me. I’m such an asshole. “I’m sorry.”
Without another word, I jump up and follow Flint and Sam through the stunned crowd of people and out the doors. Five minutes later, we’re on the interstate and heading north toward home.
4
Toby
We don’t stop riding until we reach the Steel Infidels’ clubhouse two hours later. Sam and Flint park their motorcycles in their regular spots. I pull in right behind them and cut the engine.
“Still hanging in there, Toby?” Sam asks casually as I unbuckle my helmet and slide off the bike.
“Why the fuck wouldn’t I be?” I ask.
He doesn’t answer. I know he’s wondering if I’m going to freak out or have some sort of crazy post-traumatic stress meltdown. Sam knows a little bit about the struggles I’ve had since returning from Afghanistan.
Not everything though.
There are some things I could never tell anyone. Not even my best friend. But he’s heard enough to know it’s bad at times.
“Yeah, I’m okay,” I continue. “Taking down a couple of asshole terrorists is all in a day’s work for me. Or used to be. I’m still pumped full of adrenaline and ready to go again.” I punch the air with my fists for emphasis. “The more of those bastards we can take out, the better. I’m just glad we were there. What if we hadn’t been? Things could have turned out much worse for all those people. It pisses me off that one of those son of a bitches got away. He outgunned us. Plain and simple. At the last minute, it all boiled down to firepower. We need to talk to Jesse about buying more powerful weapons.”
A concerned look passes between Sam and Flint.
“What?” I ask. “If you’ve got something to say, spit it out. Don’t pussyfoot around me.”
“I meant how are you doing with your post trauma shit and stuff,” Sam says. “Don’t tell me that didn’t shake you up a little. One minute we’re ordering pizza and the next all hell breaks loose.”
I shrug as if it was nothing and start unzipping my leather jacket.
“Nah…I’m good. I’m over all that crap that happened back in Afghanistan. Time always takes care of things.”
I wish.
Time hasn’t taken care of it so far.
Not the nightmares or the panic attacks that come out of nowhere. Not the drenching blasts of cold sweat whenever a car backfires or when one of the Sweet Butts accidentally drops a glass on the floor. And time certainly hasn’t taken away the overwhelming feeling of guilt every morning when I wake up and I realize I’m alive and some of my buddies aren’t.
Nobody needs to know these things.
The guys in the MC would see me differently if they knew how bad it was. As a pussy. Or a liability. Maybe even kick me out of the motorcycle club.
I don’t need their fucking pity. I can deal with this on my own like I’ve been doing all along.
I’m not worried.
I’ve got it all under control.
Sam gives me a doubtful look before leaning back against his bike and crossing his arms. He’s not going to argue with me or push too hard. We’ve known each other so long that we know when to stop.
None of us are eager to go inside the building yet. We all need a few more minutes to decompress and get our thoughts together.
“I’ll be honest,” Sam says after a moment. “I didn’t know what the fuck was going on or what to do. When I heard the gunshots, I dove behind the counter and saved my own skin. Meanwhile, you’re gathering up women like the Incredible Hulk and throwing them under tables. Saving people and being a hero while I’m ducking down behind a drink machine.”
“I’m a Marine,” I say. “And was only doing what came natural. That’s what I’m trained for. It’s what I’ve spent the past several years doing in the Middle East. Trying to stay alive and keep my buddies alive too. Today was more of the same with a different location.”
Truth is, I’m torn up inside.
Anyone would have to be stone cold not to be.
Killing isn’t for sissies.
I keep remembering the younger guy’s eyes right before I took him out.
Scared, confused.
He didn’t know what he was getting involved in. To him it might not have been much different than a video game. Until it was too late and there was no turning back.
I blame his leader, whoever the fucker is. For brainwashing a kid in the prime of his life.
And for making me kill him.
Killing someone not much older than a teenager was bad enough. Having to leave a terrified woman crying on the floor while she begged me not to go wasn’t much fun either.
I felt like a fucking coward cutting and running. Any honorable person would have hung around and helped carry the injured to ambulances or something. Not disappear without a backwards
glance.
My mind tells me we had to leave the scene. There wasn’t a choice unless we wanted to end up in jail. Not only me, but Sam and Flint too. The rationale doesn’t make me feel any less like dog shit.
I notice Flint being unusually quiet while methodically wiping down the chrome on his bike with a rag. He’s doing some deep thinking, which means there’s a problem that needs to be dealt with.
“What’s going on in that head of yours, Flint?” I ask.
He crams the rag in his pocket and turns toward me. “This is going to be a fucking disaster,” he says. “We’re going to be all over the news. There’s no way to avoid it. By this time tomorrow, everyone in the country will know who we are and where we are. What happened today and our part in it is going to go big. The Steel Infidels will be on center stage in the media.”
“Does Jesse know yet?” I ask.
Jesse is Flint and Sam’s older brother and the President of the Steel Infidels. He’s a tough and fair leader.
“I called him on the way up and asked him to bring the crew in for a meeting,” Flint says. “The girls too. Kendra is going to swing by Sam’s house to pick up Lila and the kids. Everyone needs to be here so we can be prepared.” He’s pacing now and running a nervous hand through his hair.
“I can’t believe we got ourselves involved in this,” he says. “Why in God’s name did we stop at the mall? We don’t need this crap right now. Not when things are finally starting to settle down for the MC.”
“Calm the fuck down,” Sam says. “You’re freaking out for nothing. Nobody knows who we are, and we slipped out before the cops got there. The whole scene was mass confusion. People running everywhere. I doubt anyone even saw us taking the shots.”
Flint turns and stares at Sam like he’s a complete idiot.
“Are you crazy? You think nobody noticed Toby taking out two guys?” he says. “The mall would have had security cameras, plus everyone carries a cell phone these days. You can’t tell me people weren’t recording from under tables or wherever else they were hiding out. I can guarantee that the two of you were being recorded from every angle. And the video clips will be played over and over.”
