Sketch: The Devil's Highwaymen Nomads #2 Read online

  “All right, all right, calm the fuck down, Lex!” he yelled, arguing with her over Skate’s shoulder. She was hanging upside down, her long auburn hair hanging down in soft waves, partially covering her furious face. “Babe, I don’t have time for this today!”

  As if on cue, Cosmo—Vin and Lexi’s German shepherd—came running down the corridor, stopping in front of the Semi’s door and howling along to Ann-Marie’s screams.

  The room froze and everyone stopped laughing and arguing as Cosmo and Ann-Marie chorused out a song together. Vin dragged a hand down his face and shook his head, and I looked over at Crank, trying to not split my sides as I held in my laughter.

  Ann-Marie fell quiet and Cosmo stopped howling, standing up and wagging his tail. The door opened and Semi came out, a cigarette between his lips. He took two steps, ruffling the top of Cosmo’s head, oblivious to the drama that had just unfolded.

  He took a couple more steps before looking up, seeing Lex over Skate’s shoulder and Vin staring furiously at him.

  “Hey, Prez, everything okay?” he asked sheepishly.

  Lex glared at him, her gaze flitting to Vin and back to Semi again.

  “My office, now, Semi!” Vin bellowed, and stormed back to his office.

  Semi followed him, passing the breakfast table and high-fiving Mason as he passed him, a huge shit-eating grin on his face.

  “He’s my fucking hero,” Mason laughed.

  “He’s a fucking dead man if Sara finds out,” Crank replied.

  ~ 5 ~

  That day, like most days in that town, was hot. The heat burned through my black leather vest like it was a sun magnet, and I could feel sweat trickling uncomfortably down my spine.

  Semi was driving the truck, Crank was in the back of it with a shotgun in case shit went south, and Skate was riding about two miles ahead of us, ready to warn us of any trouble he spotted. I was hanging at the back about half a mile behind.

  We were riding down I-94, heading for the Yellowstone River Inn, where we were meeting with our collector. We were on time, but that wasn’t good enough for any of us, since it was always best to be early so we had time to scope out the situation. Especially with ATF on our asses.

  Twenty minutes later we pulled into the parking lot and Semi drove the truck around to the side of the building. The parking lot was busy—busier than I was expecting it to be. I slowed my bike and duckwalked it back into a space, pulling off my oven of a helmet and wiping the sweat away from my face. I kept the engine running as I hung my helmet and took a look around me.

  “Thank fuck for that,” I muttered to myself, dragging my hair back from my face.

  I looked over the low-level white building, checking every window for anything that didn’t look right. Despite the parking lot being full, the area was quiet. Too quiet for my liking. Something about the whole thing didn’t sit well with me, and I pulled out my cell to call Skate and let him know what I thought. He picked up on the first ring, like he’d had it in his hand, waiting for me to call.

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m not liking this,” I replied, my eyebrows pulling in. “Something feels off to me.”

  “Yeah, something ain’t right,” he agreed, his voice distant.

  “What do you wanna do? It’s your call, brother.”

  “I’ll call Vin now, see how he wants to play it. It’s a lot of fucking cash to be walking away from if we’re wrong.”

  “I hear you. But it’s a long fucking time to go down for if this is a play.”

  “Yeah, agreed. Listen, Sketch, if shit goes bad, you get yourself back to the clubhouse.” Skate hung up without waiting for my reply, and I called Crank immediately, deciding he should know if something wasn’t right since he was stuck in the back of the damned truck. He took a little longer to answer, and each ring felt like another nail in the coffin.

  My gaze moved from the building to the parked vehicles. Nothing seemed out of place, and yet everything seemed out of place. There was no noise, no screaming kids, no engines turning over, no women calling their husbands. Nothing but deathly silence filled the calm, hot afternoon air, like it was waiting for something, paused with bated breath for us to fall into the trap. As the seconds ticked by I was liking this shit less and less.

  The throbbing in my chest wasn’t making me feel any better either. Always listened to my instincts, and that day was no different. Right then, my instincts were telling me to get us all the hell out of there.

  Crank finally picked up. “What?”

  “You fucking napping in there?” I snapped at him, and he chuckled. “Something smells bad, brother,” I said, and his chuckle died.

  “What is it?”

  “Not sure yet. It’s quiet, too quiet, but busy too, if you feel me.”

  “Yeah,” he grunted. “What did Skate say?”

  “He’s calling Vin. But if shit goes bad we get our asses back to the clubhouse.”

  “Fuck that,” Crank snapped. “I’m not bailing on my brothers.”

  “I hear you, and it might not come to that, but if it does, you get your ass out of there. Skate’s orders.” I saw movement in the hotel reception window. Couldn’t say what, but it didn’t fit with the rest of the picture and I froze, staring hard as I waited for it again. Someone was there, watching us. The glint of something as it caught the sun shone from the window again and my heart stuttered and kicked into gear.

  “Sketch?” Crank asked hesitantly, and I wondered how many times he’d had to say my name to get my attention.

  “Yeah, I’m here.” I shook my head as whatever was in the window glinted again. “Fuck this,” I muttered. “Crank, get the fuck out of there now!” I barked into the cell and hung up.

  I slipped the cell into my cut and shoved my head back into my helmet just as the doors to the hotel opened and three ATF agents came charging out, guns raised.

  “ATF! Get down!” they yelled.

  One started toward me and the other two headed toward the truck. Fuck knew where Skate had gone, but as the agent drew close to me, I floored the gas and headed out of my spot. My bike screeched, hot tires skidding on even hotter tarmac. I pulled my gun from my waist and aimed it at the agent who was attempting to take a shot at me.

  “I said ATF, get the fuck down!” he yelled, taking aim.

  I squeezed the trigger, hitting him in the right shoulder. He called out as the bullet slammed into him, and he dropped his gun and fell backwards. I looked back as the door to the truck slid up and Crank stood there, shotgun in hand, looking every bit the fierce motherfucker I knew he was. He cocked the gun and fired, taking out one of the agents with a blast to the chest.

  The agent fell to the ground soundlessly, blood splattering beneath him. The sound of sirens in the distance grew louder as Crank aimed his shotgun again. A shot flew past him as he took aim and shot at the other agent.

  Shit was going bad real quick. The truck roared to life and I sped my bike across the parking lot toward Crank, screeching to a sliding halt in front of the truck long enough for Crank to drag the door down and jump out of the truck and climb onto my bike.

  “’Bout fuckin’ time, brother,” he laughed.

  Semi started to pull the truck away, and I sped in the opposite direction of him. Still had no idea where Skate was parked, but I hoped he’d gotten himself the hell out of there before it had all blown up.

  I screeched out of the parking lot, taking a right as Semi turned left. Splitting up was the best thing we could do right then. I picked up speed and kept on driving, knowing and trusting Crank to have my back. This had been one hell of a shitstorm and we were all going down for it if we didn’t shake the heat from us quickly.

  We passed a pathetic roadblock on our way and I took another right, dodging the cops and heading out across the Yellowstone River doing ninety as I swerved between vehicles. Cops were on our tail as Crank fired behind us, taking out a tire of another car and causing them to fishtail as they tried in vain to regain contr
ol of their vehicle. It wasn’t happening anytime soon though, and the front end of their car clipped an SUV and it flipped through the air and crashed back down in a series of loud groans and ripping metal.

  Screams filled the air and the acrid smell of gunfire filled my nose. I snarled and kept up my speed, swerving between vehicles until I found an easy path cutting across both lanes and onto the opposite side of the highway. I cut across traffic, ignoring the sounds of horns as I found my way bumping over the grass verges and onto a different road heading in the same direction but on a different path. The road arced to the right, and I swerved around the hairpin curve, finally slowing when I could no longer hear the police behind us.

  I called back to Crank. “How you doing? Anything on us?”

  “Nothing. But I think I got hit,” he replied.

  “Fuck. Is it bad?”

  “Don’t think so. Hard to tell though, bleeding bad though.”

  “Double fuck.” I sped back up. “Hang on, I’ll get us back to the clubhouse as quick as I can.”

  “It’s all good, brother. Can’t be too bad or I wouldn’t have been able to hold on after your shit stunt driving,” he joked.

  “Always the fucking comedian,” I called back, purposefully swerving so he’d have to hold on tighter.

  He winced, and I laughed loudly, the wind rushing past me.

  An hour later I pulled us into the clubhouse. The adrenalin was still pumping through me, but with nowhere to go it was just making me feel grumpy and anxious. I pulled the bike to a stop, taking a quick glance around the lot and seeing that neither the truck or Skate’s bike were there. Mason and Jase jogged straight over to us and as I got off, dragging my helmet off and handing it to Jase, who got straight on, automatically speeding my bike out of the clubhouse grounds to somewhere safer.

  Mason threw an arm under Crank and helped me drag him inside.

  He was right. He’d been hit, and blood trailed down his front, soaking his shirt and cut, leaving a trail of blood behind us. His complexion was pale but his eyes were focused, so I figured it couldn’t have been too bad.

  We got inside, the shade of the clubhouse more than welcoming, and Mason took Crank off to be patched up.

  “Thanks,” Crank called back to me as Vin came over, his expression dark.

  “Just stay alive. I haven’t finished my tattoos yet,” I replied.

  He laughed darkly as he walked further down the hallway.

  “What the fuck happened out there?” Vin barked out, frustration and anger vibrating from him.

  “It was a shit show, Prez. A setup, for sure. Semi and Skate back yet?” I asked, pulling off my cut and shirt. They were both covered in Crank’s blood and I needed to get them, and myself, clean before ATF turned up, which would be anytime now, no doubt.

  “Semi is back, but I haven’t seen Skate yet. He’s not answering his cell either.” Vin looked worried, and you knew it was bad if the prez was worried.

  “Could be driving?” I suggested

  “Could be.”

  “We got company,” Jase replied breathlessly as he jogged inside.

  “Go wash up, quickly,” Vin ordered, and I didn’t need to be asked twice.

  ~ 6 ~

  A loud knocking came at my door seconds before it was kicked in.

  I stayed under the hot water of my shower, letting the soap suds and water wash away any evidence I had on me. The curtain was pulled back abruptly and I stared out at the two ATF agents glaring in at me. Their guns were aimed at my face and I cocked an eyebrow at them and smiled, blinking away the water that ran down my face. One was male and the other female, both dressed in white shirts and black pants, and both of them cocky motherfuckers.

  My smile crept higher up my face as I lifted my hands into the air, dropping the cloth I’d just been scrubbing myself with and giving a full-frontal show of my cock to both agents. The female one’s gaze automatically fell to my dick and my grin rose even higher.

  “Well all right then, darlin’, you feel like joining me?” I drawled, and she blushed and looked back up at my face. “You know you want to.”

  “Put your hands fucking up!” the male agent barked.

  I let out a loud laugh and glanced up at my hands, which were still raised. Water continued to cascade down on my naked body, pounding against my hard muscles. The female agent reached in and grabbed my arm to drag me out, getting herself soaked in the process.

  “Get out, now!” she yelled in my face, her mascara beginning to run.

  She was attractive, if you liked the strict disciplinarian type. Hair tied back in a low bun thingy, no doubt matching white cotton panties and bra, but I bet she had a real dark side. Probably liked to walk across her boyfriend’s back in high heels while pouring wax over his asshole.

  I stepped out of the shower and peered down at her. “You got a little something here,” I said, reaching down to wipe away some of the mascara with my thumb.

  She slapped my hand away and started to drag me out of the room while I chuckled even louder.

  Not sure whether she’d forgotten that I was completely fucking naked or she just didn’t care, but I entered the center of the clubhouse with my cock swinging, and leaving a trail of water behind me.

  My brothers were already on the floor, facedown and hands behind their backs, while another agent aimed his gun at them. It was Vin who looked up first and saw me naked. He started to laugh, a deep, bass-y sound that reverberated through the room, and one by one my brothers all looked up and started to laugh too. A slow ripple moved through them all as I strutted over, cock swinging and a swagger in my step.

  “What the fuck is going on here, brothers?” I asked. “I knew I was a pussy magnet, but this shit is getting ridiculous. Bitches coming in and dragging me out before I’ve even had chance to wash my motherfucking hair.”

  That made everyone laugh even more, and I swear to this day that I saw one of the other agents standing guard over my brothers crack a grin.

  “For God’s sake, Monroe, get him some pants, now!” the agent that was clearly in charge said, coming forward. He was dressed pretty much the same as the other two, but he had on a pair of thick-framed glasses.

  Monroe, who was obviously the pretty little thing that was still manhandling my arm, looked down at my cock and then up at my face, her cheeks going red. Our eyes connected, and I grinned again.

  “It’s okay, darlin’, I like a dominant woman.” I winked, and she let go of me and stepped back, clearly fucking embarrassed by the whole thing.

  She stared daggers at the other agent that had been in the room with her, but he was too intent on comparing cock sizes with me to notice.

  “Yeah, that’s right, keep comparing if you want your ego deflating a little more,” I snickered to him, and he snarled and looked away.

  Another agent threw some pants to me, and they hit my chest with a loud thwack sound. I grabbed them and slid them on, slowly, before taking my place on the ground next to Mason.

  “This your doing? You fuck up again and order a hooker instead of a pizza?” I snarked.

  He chuckled, stopping only when an agent came and put a foot in his back, forcing him closer to the ground. I swiveled my head around to get a good look at the agent in question. It was the one that was in charge.

  “Blue eyes, pale skin, hair like Dawson from Dawson’s motherfucking Creek, thick-framed glasses,” I said, my gaze narrowing as I moved down his body to the boot that was currently on Mason’s back. “Size seven army boots, little scuffed under the right heel like he has a limp.” I nodded, satisfied.

  He scowled down me. “What the fuck are you talking about?” he asked, leaning down.

  I smiled up at him. “Just making sure I don’t forget you after this ends. And it will end, and then we’ll see who’s in charge and whose foot is pressing another man into the ground.”

  He had the good sense to look uncomfortable, and I grinned slyly.

  “That’s right, motherf
ucker, your heartbeat probably jumped a bit then, thinking about all the ways I’m going to fuck you up.”

  He glared down at me but there was no denying the fear on his face.

  “All right, enough of the cock show. Where is it?” the lead agent asked, coming forward. He crouched down, getting close to Vin. “The truck, Marcus, where is it?” He looked over at the rest of us, his gaze lingering on me longer than necessary. “And the men involved…I’ll be taking them too.”

  “Not sure what you mean, Agent Lear,” Vin replied. “And only my mama or my enemies call me by that name, you feel me?”

  “Well, we’re not exactly friends now, are we, Marcus?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. We’ve been connecting like this for so long now, I was beginning to see you as one of the family,” Vin sneered.

  Agent Lear chuckled before leaning down closer to Vin’s face, and before I could blink he had punched Vin in the face twice, causing his lip to split and blood to trail down his chin. Big mistake.

  “How’s that for family?” Agent Lear asked.

  Vin licked the blood from his lip. “Just like fighting with my little brother. I let him get in a couple of shots too before I kicked his ass.”

  Agent Lear’s smile dropped and he stood back up. “Cut the crap, Vin. Let me lay it out for you real simple, because I don’t want there to be any misunderstanding on how this is going to go down for you and this club. I want the truck with the drugs and I want the men that just shot and killed three of my agents. If I don’t get them, I’ll be taking your entire club down.”

  Vin looked up, his gaze dark and hooded. “Fuckin’ try it and see what happens.”

  Agent Lear rubbed his chin, clearly pissed the fuck off. He moved his gaze over us all, his eyes lingering on me for a second. “They were good men—families, wives, kids with no daddies now. You really protecting men that would do that?”

  Vin glared up at Agent Lear. “I’m protecting no one. My men weren’t there, doing whatever it is you think they were, killing whoever it is that got your panties in a twist. But I tell you what, you let us up, get the fuck out of my club, and we’ll call it even. I’ll even send some flowers to the funerals of those nice young men you were just talking about.”