Consciousness returned slowly, and was accompanied by a monstrous headache and tidal waves of choking nausea. Tim cautiously moved his head, and violent pain erupted. Nausea rose again, and he retched until his entire body screamed in aching protest.
Gradually he realized that something tight around his waist was cutting off his breath. His weight was suspended by the thick ropes tying him to…something rough. A tree?
It took several attempts before his feet finally responded, and his legs strengthened enough to support him. The pressure on his chest eased, and he managed to suck in a deep breath of air.
It still hurt to breathe…God, his head ached!...but his reeling mind began to clear a little. Despite the jagged bark digging into his spine, he straightened enough peer blearily around.
A forest? Why the hell am I tied to a tree in a forest? How did I get here?
The night wasn’t completely dark; a full moon was hanging over the trees. Once his eyes began to adjust, he scanned the closely-packed trees and shrubs, trying to make sense of it all.
Icy fear shot through him when he heard a branch snap. Then a beam of light flashed through the thick underbrush, and swayed unsteadily in his direction.
Pain erupted again when it shone directly in his eyes.
“Hey, Tim. How’s it hanging?”
He knew that hard, mocking voice, recognized the contemptuous laughter that followed it. He’d heard it throughout high school…usually right before eating a hard-driven knuckle sandwich.
“Cliff.”
The light switched off, and he nearly wept with relief as the agonizing spike in his skull receded. Warily he opened his eyes again.
“That’s right, fuckwad,” Cliff sneered, clearly enjoying his power. “Shane offered me the chance to earn my patch tonight, and I jumped at it. I had no idea you were involved,” he admitted, “but I don’t mind at all. I get to earn my patch, and fuck with you some more at the same time.” He threw his head back and released a grating laugh. “It’s like Christmas or something!”
It was like high school all over again…but Tim clung to the faint hope that Cliff, who bored easily, might give up and move on to other debauchery if he remained silent.
“Cat got your tongue, you little pussy?” Laughing, Cliff jabbed his shoulder hard enough to hurt. “Well, you don’t need to talk. I’ll do the talking for both of us!”
Tim kept his head down, and focused on his well-worn sneakers. The toes were muddy; he must have been dragged here like a sack of potatoes. If he could convince Cliff that he was still barely conscious, or at least avoid giving him a visible reaction…
“You’re probably wondering how you got here,” Cliff continued without a pause. “Well, your lovely wife let Shane into your trailer. He waited for you to get home. Once you walked inside…” He slammed his fist into his open palm, and the sharp impact echoed through the clearing. “He said you dropped like a rock. You always were a pussy,” he mocked.
Tim watched carefully, through barely-slitted eyes, as Cliff paced back and forth. He was sporting the same malicious grin he’d always worn in high school, but his behavior was a little off. Was he drunk or high?
“You’re probably wondering where she is right now,” he added, then waited until Tim slowly raised his head and met his gleeful smirk. “She’s inside Shane’s trailer, sucking hard…on a Meth pipe!” Again he laughed, and the harsh sound grated on Tim’s battered nerves. “Yeah, she’s always been good at sucking on things. Believe me, I know Crystal…I have first-hand knowledge!”
“Fuck you, Cliff,” Tim said quietly. “You always were a douche bag.”
“Fuck me?” Suddenly enraged, Cliff gripped Tim’s hair, and slammed his head back against the tree several times. The agony was so enormous that he nearly passed out. Cliff released his hold, and stepped back. “You’re still a smart-mouthed little weasel,” he muttered, and slapped Tim’s cheek to rouse him again.
“Where were we? Oh, yeah, fucking. What do you think’s going to happen when Crystal gets high?” he taunted. “She’s hooked hard on that shit, and once she gets enough Meth in her, she’ll spread real easy. That’s right, buddy boy.” His malicious grin returned. “When she comes outside, Shane and I are going to take turns on her, right in front of you. How’s that sound? I hear you like that sort of thing!”
As if on cue, he heard a door open, and Crystal’s giddy laugh carried through the night. Now he realized where he was. Shane’s trailer backed up to a thick, heavily overgrown greenbelt. Hay fields and vineyards stretched away on the far side. The chances of anyone finding him in this little hidden clearing ranged between slim, slimmer, and not a chance in hell.
I’m well and truly fucked!
Cliff fell silent as footsteps approached, and Tim closed his eyes in abject misery. He knew what he was about to see.
Sure enough, Shane and Crystal appeared a few moments later…and it was even worse than he’d feared. She was wearing a gaudy stripper’s dress that barely covered her body; her tits were almost hanging out, and her ass was barely covered. Shane carried her through the greenbelt, though he couldn’t tell if it was because of her unbelievably high heels or because she was stoned out of her mind.
When he finally set her down, she wove her unsteady way over to Tim, and lifted a hand in absent welcome. “Hi, baby,” she exclaimed dreamily. Her eyes were bright and unfocused. She nearly tripped before managing to plant a sloppy kiss on his cheek. “Tim, I just wanted to let you know that I’ll be filing for divorce on Monday,” she said mechanically, as if she was reading from a cue card. “Don’t worry about me anymore…I’ll be all right. You just move on with your life, okay? Don’t think about me, and just go on. You crunch your numbers, okay?”
He didn’t flinch or even blink; he just stared at the stranger in front of him. This was a Crystal he didn’t recognize, and didn’t want to know. Meth’s hold on her was so complete that she didn’t even seem to realize he was tied to the tree.
“When is Jingles getting here?” she grumbled petulantly, turning away as if he’d already vanished into thin air.
“He should be here any second.” Shane ignored her attempt to lean against him and kiss his cheek. “Go stand by the trailer, and help him find us,” he ordered Cliff.
“Sure thing, Shane.”
Shane looked at the battered young man he’d once called ‘friend,’ and slowly shook his head. “Sorry about this, Tim,” he said quietly. “Instead of trying to save Crystal, you should have just left well enough alone. She was going to leave you anyway…why couldn’t you just let her go?”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
Before Shane could respond, a car door slammed, and voices rose in greeting. He turned as someone called out, “Shane?”
“Back here, Jingles.”
“Crystal?”
“I’m here!” she replied gaily. “I’ve been waiting for you, baby!”
It took them several moments to wind their way through the thick underbrush. Then Crystal threw herself at a tall black man, and they kissed passionately for several moments. Finally he passed her over to a hulking giant. “Be right back, Crystal. Wait here.”
Tim finally got a good look at the man who’d stolen his wife, and his eyes widened in surprise. It was the club owner he’d glimpsed so long ago. But he didn’t look like a drug-dealing thug; he looked like a successful businessman! Tim could easily envision him sitting in a corporate boardroom.
He didn’t look like a criminal…until their eyes met. Then it was obvious.
The phone buzzed insistently on Carlos’ desk. Eagerly he answered it, and his smile widened as he listened intently. “Excellent!” he drawled…then continued listening, and his beaming smile reversed itself. “Find them,” he snapped. “It all ends tonight!”
He disconnected, and stalked over to the huge board. Rowdy and Raven stared in growing dread as he drew another line…through Coke’s name.
“The Lone Star Blades’ clubhouse is destroyed,” he boasted, as if he’d firebombed the place himself. “There was only one member inside when it caught fire, and now your friend, Mr. Coke, is dead. The only Blades still left alive are Shane and the Prospect, Cliff.”
Angry grief filled Rowdy’s eyes. Coke had been his friend and mentor ever since he’d joined the Blades.
Raven shared his anguish, but she still hoped Shane would find and rescue them.
“I have my people searching for Shane and Cliff. We will have them soon.” Laughing, Carlos walked from the room.
Rowdy and Raven exchanged a helpless glance.
Shane, we really need your help!
Tim watched silently as Jingles approached, then stopped to study him like an insect pinned under glass. Raw fear coursed through his veins. Jingles’ eyes were intense, but lifeless, like a shark’s just before it devoured its prey. This was a man who would rid himself of a nuisance by any means necessary, and then dismiss the life he’d just extinguished without a backwards glance.
“Bad ending, man,” he said quietly. “I wanted Crystal to leave you sooner, but the bitch loved you. It took a lot of work to finally get her to this point. Too bad you wouldn’t just let her go…none of us wanted this ending.”
Tim was going to die anyway, so why not go down fighting? “Sorry to inconvenience you,” he retorted. “Those marriage vows are such a pain in the ass.”
He thought he saw a flicker of respect in Jingles’ eyes. Then the man’s lips curved ever-so-slightly, and he moved so close that no one else could hear his low voice. “Marriage vows!” he scoffed. “Look where your fuckin’ marriage vows brought you. I’ve been fucking your wife for months! Last night I passed her around to one of my boys and his bitch, and she happily fucked both of them. I’ve had her dance naked for clients, and she did it willingly, happily. Shane was fucking her before me, and I hear that idiot Rowdy took a few turns on her, too. How do those marriage vows look now?”
He’d known she had another man—but Jingles’ callous words sliced directly into his heart.
“She likes girls, too. You should have seen her last night!” Jingles continued with a lewd chuckle. “She was fucking one of my crew, and another stripper we brought home. If we had more time, I’d show you the video because, damn, Crystal likes her girls!”
“You don’t even care about her, do you?” Tim’s throat was so constricted that he could barely even force out the words. “You’re using her, just like every other man she’s ever been with.” And the thought of her being used and discarded, just like in high school, nearly destroyed him.
Jingles firmly nodded. “Damn right, I’m using her! You have no idea how much money your wife…oops, I mean, ex-wife…is worth, do you?” Grinning, he rocked back on his heels. “Listen, I’m going to do you a solid. I’m going to tell you the truth.” There was no harm in it, he figured, since the little runt would be dead within the hour…and he so rarely got the chance to brag!
“My original plan was to put Crystal to work for me. I was gonna have her turning tricks in Las Vegas, New York, Los Angeles…hell, all across the country. We were going to start her out at about $5k a night, maybe even more if another woman was involved. And she was going to be working every fucking night. You hear what I’m saying, Tim? A hundred grand a month, easy. Her Meth habit’s so strong now, she’ll fuck whoever I tell her to fuck, and be happy doing it.”
The blood drained from Tim’s face as he saw it, all too clearly.
Jingles nodded. “Yeah, you’re getting it…you ain’t as stupid as your wife. But plans change, and now she has a different future.” Pleasure warmed his deep voice. “I’ve got partners in Europe, Central and South America, and even the Middle East bidding on her. I’ve had her dance for them all night, and they’re really interested. Of course, it helped that she danced naked for them,” he chuckled. “I figure the final price for her will be over $1 million.
“Once I sell her ass, her new owners will take her back to their country. She’ll never see the States again.”
“You fucking bastard.”
Tim’s low growl didn’t upset Jingles in the slightest. “You have no idea,” he said lightly, “because you haven’t heard the best part yet.
“See, eventually the Meth gets to everyone, and steals the life right out of them. A year or two working in a brothel, and she won’t bring such a high price anymore. When that happens, she’ll be moved to the streets, and she’ll work on the street corners. She’ll be suckin’ and fuckin’ fat old men in the back of cheap cars for fifty pesos or Euros a pop. She won’t be so beautiful then, believe me.”
Tears flooded Tim’s eyes as the dealer callously outlined Crystal’s future. He couldn’t believe it…wouldn’t believe it! No one could be that cold and brutal!
Then Jingles added, “Unless the fuckin’ Arabs buy her,” and the sick pit in his stomach nearly made him retch.
“The shit they do to white women is unbelievable,” Jingles admitted candidly. “Even makes me squeamish. I’ll spare you the stories I’ve heard, and you definitely don’t want to see the videos.”
Mocking derision filled his voice when he leaned close enough to whisper, “You should know that if the Arabs buy her, she won’t last a year. Hell, she probably won’t last more than six months. I’m not sure whether that’s good or bad…but either way, white women just don’t last long over there.”
Then he straightened, and raked Tim with one last scornful glance. “My organization is going to make a shitload of money selling your wife, and I can’t allow you to fuck that up for me. It’s business, man…just business.
“Crystal!” He turned and gestured imperiously. “Come say goodbye, and make it quick. When we leave here, we’re going to Mexico. I’ve planned a nice vacation for us!”
“Mexico!” Crystal was so excited that she nearly tripped. “I can’t believe it! Mexico! I love you!”
Eagerly she rushed back to Tim. “It’s for the best, you know. I’m with a real man now, and he’ll take care of me.” She giggled, still completely oblivious to his grim predicament. “You can find yourself the perfect suburban housewife, and live happily ever after!”
She turned to leave, then whirled back and kissed his cheek. “They’re just going to scare you, baby,” she whispered in his ear. “Forget about me…I’ll be fine!”
She ruffled his hair, then stumbled back to Jingles. He stared at her retreating back. “Happily ever after? Crystal, wait! Don’t you know…”
Shane’s fist exploded into his ribcage, driving the air from his lungs and cracking a rib. He folded like a broken puppet, and would have fallen if the ropes hadn’t held him firmly in place. Gasping, he retched violently.
“Sorry, Tim. I couldn’t have you warning Crystal,” Shane said quietly, then laughed. “Jingles paid me $50k to deliver her to him. Easiest money I’ve ever made. I’ll probably take Raven to Jamaica when this is over. She’ll get a kick out of spending money I got for selling Crystal.
“She’s always hated her. I’ll bet you never knew that, but it’s true,” he added conversationally. “She hated Crystal the first time they met, and only pretended to be her friend so she could hook her on Meth. I gave her the drugs, but she made sure Crystal took them. She’s the one who got Crystal addicted, then seduced her and helped her become a drug mule for the Blades.”
Jingles’ voice floated back to them through the shadowed trees. “I’m done here, Shane. I’ll be in touch!”
“Bye!”
Cliff returned, and flanked Tim, while Shane and he watched Crystal disappear. Every breath hurt, and his ribcage burned, but they were nothing compared to the pain in his heart as his wife left with a true monster.
Her light laugh drifted through the clearing one last time, then faded away completely. Shane nodded in satisfaction, and turned to Cliff. “You’ve got five minutes, and then we need to get back to the clubhouse,” he said quietly. “I’m going to check in with Coke, and then I’ll come back and help you finish earning your patch.”
A malicious grin curved the big bully’s face as he moved to face Tim. “Well,” he smirked, loudly cracking his knuckles, “I didn’t get to fuck her, and that sucks. I wanted to slip my cock into her at least once more.” Then he shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll look her up in a few years when she’s working the street corner. I’ll give her some Meth, and let a bunch of bums and winos run a train on her. That’ll be fucking funny, dude! I’ll show that shit at our class reunion!”
He laughed at his own lewd joke, but Tim was too drained to care anymore. He’d already realized he would never leave the clearing alive. The agonizing pain of seeing Crystal high, then hearing Jingles describe her appalling future, had left him hollow and empty. Not even Cliff’s worst had the power to frighten him anymore.
A fist grabbed his hair, and yanked his head up. “Don’t fall asleep on me, Timmy-boy! Oh, no, we’re not done. I’ve been waiting years to beat the shit out of you again. You need an ass-whipping to remind you of your place…to remind you who’s the better man in this world!”
Pain exploded in his cheek as Cliff slammed his fist into it. Bright lights danced in his reeling brain as he slumped against the ropes. Cliff yanked his head up again, and pounded the other side of his face even harder.
“Now this feels good!” the biker panted, and drew back for another vicious punch. “Damn, I’ve missed beating the crap out of you!”
Tim’s head lolled forward as he slid easily into the looming blackness. He didn’t think he’d survive another assault; his entire body was wracked with pain, and he could barely breathe. He wished he could just pass out, and get it over with.
Cliff grabbed his hair again, and clenched his fist for the killing blow. “Game over, motherfucker!”
“Cliff!”
The unfamiliar voice made him hesitate, then release Tim. “Yeah?”
Approaching footsteps echoed through the darkness, and filled Tim’s entire reeling world with one last feeble hope. Nausea washed through him again, and the world tilted at a dangerous angle. He fought to remain conscious, because he thought he recognized that deep, resonant voice.
“Who the fuck are you?”
“Still a dumbass, I see.” The newcomer stepped into the clearing, and softly laughed. “You don’t remember me?”
“I’m not fucking around, man,” Cliff snarled, and belligerently stepped forward. “Do you know who you’re talking to? Any idea what outfit you’re fucking with tonight?”
“Oh, I know damned well who I’m fucking with tonight,” the man said coolly, and raked him with a single disdainful glance. “You’re a bully, a coward, and a lowlife piece of shit, Cliff. You haven’t changed a bit since high school, have you? You’ve only become more pathetic.”
Cliff’s eyes narrowed, and he peered cautiously at his adversary. “Who are you?”
“It’s me, Jeff. Tim’s best friend, remember?” His sudden vindictive grin was dazzling.
Cliff’s jaw dropped, and he took an involuntary step back. The muscular giant confronting him looked nothing like the scrawny little wimp he’d terrorized back in school!
He remembered hearing that Jeff had become a Navy SEAL, but he’d discounted it as wishful thinking, just another small-town family’s attempt to sound more important than they really were.
Now the reality of it was staring him in the face…and he didn’t like what he saw!
“I’m going to give you a choice,” Jeff said calmly, and angled his head in Tim’s direction. “Cut him down, let me get him to the hospital, and I’ll let you turn yourself into the police.”
Fury rose in a blinding wave. No way was he letting anyone spoil his fun, especially a wiseass jerk he’d despised since childhood! “Fuck you!” he blustered, clenching his fists. “Or what, Navy boy?”
“Or I’m going to beat you within an inch of your life, cut Tim loose myself, and get him to the hospital,” Jeff replied in the same deceptively-mild voice. “Once he’s safe, I’ll call the police to come collect your body.”
“You might want to rethink that plan,” Cliff sneered, thrusting his chest out. “I kicked your ass all through high school, and I’m more than willing to do it again. You should also know you’re not just dealing with me anymore. I’m part of the Lone Star Blades,” he bragged. “You fuck with me, you’ll have the whole fucking gang on your ass!”
“Maybe.” Jeff’s shoulders moved in a careless shrug. “But it’s just you and me now. You gonna let me help Tim, or do I get to kick your ass?”
Cliff grinned, and wiggled his fingers in mocking invitation. It made him look just like Neo from The Matrix, he thought. And he was going to mop up the ground just like Neo had. “Come on, Navy boy. Bring it!”
Jeff’s lips curved in a slow, satisfied smile. “You have no idea how much I wanted to hear you say that.”
Tim watched through swollen, barely-slitted eyes as Cliff raised his fists, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. This wasn’t going to end the way it had in high school, he just knew it…and he didn’t want to miss a single instant!
Jeff approached slowly, sizing him up. When he got close enough, Cliff led with two quick jabs, then a huge overhand right. Jeff easily avoided the two jabs, and ducked under Cliff’s haymaker. It missed him completely, and threw the biker off-balance. He immediately counterpunched, landing two hard, straight punches to Cliff’s ribcage. Tim heard a bone crack from all the way across the clearing.
Stunned, Cliff gasped and staggered back a few paces. Agony blossomed through his body as he bent over, holding his side, trying to draw a full breath.
“Hurts, don’t it?” Jeff taunted. “Imagine if I had you tied to a tree. Fucking coward!”
Furiously Cliff straightened, sucked in as much air as his broken rib would allow, and clenched his fists again. When he approached Jeff this time, he kept his body angled to protect his battered ribcage.
Jeff waited, muscles relaxed but poised for instant response as Cliff circled him. Then he simply sidestepped when the biker unleashed a quick jab, followed by another high hard right-cross. The maneuver was straight out of every low-budget action movie ever produced…and while it looked great on film, it was totally ineffective in real life. Especially against a trained opponent.
Grinning, Jeff landed two hard punches on Cliff’s jaw, then followed them with a solid blow to his midsection. The biker rocked back on his heels and staggered, barely managing to stay upright.
“How you doing, Cliff?” he mocked.
Tim was honestly shocked that Cliff was still standing. He’d felt that last jarring impact right down to his bones. Now he was swaying drunkenly, doubled over with pain, barely able to breathe. But still he refused to yield.
Jeff watched as he braced both hands on his knees and focused on just breathing for a moment. He wasn’t in any hurry to end the fight; he’d been waiting too long for this well-deserved payback, and intended to enjoy it.
Cliff must have realized he wasn’t going to out-box him, because he suddenly charged, arms held wide, intending to wrestle him to the ground. Jeff merely sidestepped again, then grabbed his outstretched arm and flipped him. Cliff landed with a violent thud, then screamed when Jeff finished the quick move by breaking his wrist and arm. His agonized cry cut off sharply when Jeff slammed the edge of his hand against his throat, and he went limp.
The entire thing had lasted less than five minutes, Tim realized with bleary pride, and Jeff hadn’t taken a single blow.
“You have no idea how good that felt,” he said, rising to his feet. “Now where’s your fucking boss?” He glanced around the silent clearing. “I know he’s due back any second.”
“I’m right here.” Shane’s low, calm voice echoed clearly through the quiet night.
Jeff spun, and saw Shane standing several feet away, hands at his side. He cast a single disparaging glance at Cliff, then respectfully nodded. “You’re good.”
Besting a balls-for-brains bully was no great accomplishment, so Jeff merely shrugged. “I’m taking my friend to a hospital,” he said firmly. “And then I’m calling the police. Why don’t you scurry back to your little clubhouse, and enjoy your last few hours of freedom?”
“I can’t let that happen.”
“You don’t have a choice.”
“I think I do.” Calmly Shane reached behind his back, then flicked his wrist. A five-inch Tanto-style blade instantly snapped into place. Moonlight caught the steel blade, and it glittered brightly in the shadowy clearing.
“A knife, huh?” Jeff sounded idly amused. “You’d better be careful. I hear those things are sharp.”
“You’re about to find out.”
Shane moved forward smoothly, and held the knife loosely in one hand while his other hand splayed out slightly for balance. He was no novice; every move was quick and precise. He snapped forward with a series of thrusts and slashes designed to slice open his opponent and end the fight quickly.
Jeff evaded each thrust, and blocked each slash, with skilled expertise. By staying in constant motion, and keeping his arms close to his body, he was able to block and trap Shane’s hand several times so that he had to yank it back.
They broke apart, and warily circled each other. This time Shane moved in faster, slashing hard at Jeff’s ribs. He blocked and tried to trap Shane’s wrist again, but the biker quickly shifted his grip on the knife, and whipped it at Jeff’s eyes. He ducked back, barely saving his eyes, and the blade scored a thin inch-long scratch on his cheek. Blood trickled down his neck.
“Got you,” Shane gloated. “Is my knife sharp?”
“Just a nick,” Jeff shrugged with an easy grin. “You got lucky.”
Shane’s answering smile was grim. “We’ll see.”
They circled again, hands low, making small feints, searching for an opening. Shane struck at his arms several times, trying to gash a vein that would bleed freely and weaken his opponent.
Suddenly Jeff’s foot snagged something on the ground. He pinwheeled frantically, trying to keep his balance. Shane saw his opening, and lunged forward, slashing and stabbing at Jeff’s upper chest and neck.
It all happened so fast that Tim, who was anxiously watching from a few feet away, could barely believe his eyes. Jeff’s stumble was a ruse designed to lure Shane into an attack. In one quick move, he trapped Shane’s knife-hand, disarmed him, threw him over his hip, and hurled the blade away as he slammed the biker to the ground, and followed through with a solid punch.
“Ready to quit yet?”
Shane rolled away, and leapt to his feet. “Not even close!”
“Good.”
Punches flew as they came together in a vicious tangle of flying fists. They were evenly matched: Shane didn’t have Jeff’s extensive military and combat training, but he was an experienced brawler. He landed several hard blows that would have flattened any other man. But Jeff absorbed the brutal punishment, bobbing and weaving, waiting for an opening. He saw his chance when Shane dropped and threw a hard punch at his midsection.
Swiftly he arched away, then hammered the biker on his unprotected flank. Two hard punches followed by a perfectly-timed left hook dazed Shane, and he staggered a little as Jeff quickly circled, forcing him to move with him.
Again they broke apart and circled each other. Blood trickled from Shane’s blackened eye; Jeff’s eye was swelling, and his mouth was bleeding. They were past trading insults now, and the silence was broken only by their heavy breathing.
Tim held his own breath as Jeff took the initiative this time, stalking Shane and forcing him backwards. They traded several blows. Neither seemed able to gain the upper hand…
Until Jeff slipped inside his guard, and caught him with an explosive elbow strike to the solar plexus.
Shane staggered back several steps, grunting and gasping for breath. Jeff instantly pounded his face several times, and Shane’s head snapped back each time. Blood streamed down his face. He staggered, tried a wild swing. Jeff dropped low and pounded his ribs mercilessly.
Shane started to fold, but Jeff wasn’t finished. His final uppercut caught the biker squarely under the chin, and hurled him back into the low underbrush. He was unconscious before he hit the ground.
Whirling, Jeff grabbed the abandoned knife and sliced through Tim’s ropes. “Easy, buddy,” he said softly, lowering him gently to the ground. “Let me take a look at you.
“Tim!” His deep voice rose sharply when Tim’s eyes began to flutter closed. “Stay with me. Listen to me! You’ve taken a nasty hit to the head—probably more than one—and I’m fairly certain you have a concussion. I’d rather not move you if I can help it, but I need you to stay awake. Can you do that for me, buddy? Look at me, focus on me.”
Blearily Tim struggled to obey, and saw Jeff reach into his pocket for his phone.
Suddenly the entire clearing blazed with light. “Freeze!” someone shouted from behind them. “Federal agents!”
Flashlights danced back and forth, playing over Jeff, Tim, and the two unconscious bikers. Carefully Jeff remained on his knees, and lifted both hands over his head. “Friendlies!” he said loudly. “We’re friendlies!”
Half a dozen agents burst through the trees, clutching firearms and flashlights. Several focused on Shane and Cliff. Handcuffs snapped, and Cliff screamed as pain roused him.
“I have a seriously injured man here!” Jeff called over his shoulder. “He needs an ambulance immediately! Call it in! Goddamn it, where’s Bo? Call an ambulance!”
“We’ve already called an ambulance, sir,” one of the men assured him. “Now don’t move.”
It was standard procedure to secure his wrists in a plastic flex-cuff, and he tried not to resent it. They’d be removed, he knew, once he’d convinced them that he was one of the good guys. Bo would see to that. In the meantime, his concern remained focused on Tim. “He’s got a serious concussion, and at least one cracked rib,” he explained to the agent who bent to examine Tim. “But otherwise I think he’s fine.”
Tim wavered in and out of consciousness as approaching sirens broke the silence, and flashing red lights ricocheted through the greenbelt. Then paramedics surrounded him, lifted him, and secured him to a gurney.
His last vague thought, as he finally slid down into the warm, comforting darkness was, Where’s Crystal?