his
forehead against the top of the truck’s windshield. His handgun clatters to the
floor at his feet. Anton scrambles for his seatbelt. Luke scoots back in his
seat searching around for his gun. Anton hits the belt’s release button and
dives across the stick shift as he reaches for the fallen weapon. He grabs it at
the same time Luke does and both men struggle for possession. Finally, Luke
wrests it from Anton’s fingers, sticks the barrel in his mouth and pulls the
trigger!
Anton shuts his
eyes and jerks back away from the other man hoping to avoid the inevitable
spray of hot blood and brains.
Click!
Nothing happens.
Click! Just a hollow metallic sound of the hammer falling. The firing pin
strikes the primer but it fails to ignite. The bullet’s a dud!
The sound of
repeated clicking jars Anton back into action. He slaps the gun away from the
other man’s mouth with his right hand and twists around and punches Luke square
in the nose. Luke’s head rocks back and bounces off the truck’s rear window.
Momentarily stunned, he just sits there as Anton retrieves the H&K. He
shoves it down into his jacket pocket, revs the engine and spins out in the
gravel before his tires find their traction and propel the truck back out into
the roadway. He has to get to his house as fast as he can. He does not want to
be trapped in this truck with a suicidal maniac any longer than he has to be.
After a few minutes, the rush of adrenaline from the nightmarish mess of a
night levels off and he eases up on the accelerator bringing their speed down
to 35 miles an hour. It would not do to get pulled over now with the state Luke
is in. Plus, he’s got a pretty good amount of his victim’s blood on him. Anton
is not a cop killer and he doesn’t want to start now, but if they’re pulled
over, he’ll have no choice in the matter.
During the twenty
minutes it takes to get to his house, his mind replays the night’s events over
and over. Was is just a wild coincident or were they set up? Actually, was Luke
set up? It was his best friend he’d just blown away, not Anton’s friend. Before
he can convince himself it might just be a sad accident, he remembers what
Gunnar had said in the meeting about Carter. Supposedly, he was up north with
the Devil Dogs talking with them about their Harbinger problem and a
possible patch over ceremony.
So that was all
a lie , he guessed. But
why would Gunnar want Carter dead? Did he betray the club? Was there another
reason he was killed? The Kings do not kill their own unless something really
serious has happened. A member is usually kicked out for life for serious
offences, not gunned down like this.
Luke’s fevered
brain rages. What was Carter doing in that truck when he was supposed to be up
north? There is only one explanation for it. He was meant to kill his best
friend tonight and it worked. There is only one man who could order such a hit
and have people within the club that would help carry out those orders. His
father set him up and made him kill his best friend. What will he tell Carter’s
mother? The thought of facing that sweet old woman with such tragic news is
almost enough to send Luke back down into the suicidal spiral he’d just come
back from. But first things first. He’ll have to tell Mrs. Jennings what
happened and then he’ll kill the man who really killed Carter; his father.
I will kill
everyone close to him and while he’s stewing in his agony, I’ll slit his throat
and watch him bleed out ,
Luke muses.
Luke is only
vaguely aware of arriving at an unfamiliar house. He barely has the strength to
stand as Anton pulls him out of the truck and helps him up the sidewalk. They go
inside and Luke collapses over a couch. He closes his eyes for a second but has
to open them again. Every time his eyelids come down, he sees Carter’s bloody
face, half his head blown away. He sees the spray of blood, bone and brains
against the truck’s windshield. He sees himself pulling the
forehead against the top of the truck’s windshield. His handgun clatters to the
floor at his feet. Anton scrambles for his seatbelt. Luke scoots back in his
seat searching around for his gun. Anton hits the belt’s release button and
dives across the stick shift as he reaches for the fallen weapon. He grabs it at
the same time Luke does and both men struggle for possession. Finally, Luke
wrests it from Anton’s fingers, sticks the barrel in his mouth and pulls the
trigger!
Anton shuts his
eyes and jerks back away from the other man hoping to avoid the inevitable
spray of hot blood and brains.
Click!
Nothing happens.
Click! Just a hollow metallic sound of the hammer falling. The firing pin
strikes the primer but it fails to ignite. The bullet’s a dud!
The sound of
repeated clicking jars Anton back into action. He slaps the gun away from the
other man’s mouth with his right hand and twists around and punches Luke square
in the nose. Luke’s head rocks back and bounces off the truck’s rear window.
Momentarily stunned, he just sits there as Anton retrieves the H&K. He
shoves it down into his jacket pocket, revs the engine and spins out in the
gravel before his tires find their traction and propel the truck back out into
the roadway. He has to get to his house as fast as he can. He does not want to
be trapped in this truck with a suicidal maniac any longer than he has to be.
After a few minutes, the rush of adrenaline from the nightmarish mess of a
night levels off and he eases up on the accelerator bringing their speed down
to 35 miles an hour. It would not do to get pulled over now with the state Luke
is in. Plus, he’s got a pretty good amount of his victim’s blood on him. Anton
is not a cop killer and he doesn’t want to start now, but if they’re pulled
over, he’ll have no choice in the matter.
During the twenty
minutes it takes to get to his house, his mind replays the night’s events over
and over. Was is just a wild coincident or were they set up? Actually, was Luke
set up? It was his best friend he’d just blown away, not Anton’s friend. Before
he can convince himself it might just be a sad accident, he remembers what
Gunnar had said in the meeting about Carter. Supposedly, he was up north with
the Devil Dogs talking with them about their Harbinger problem and a
possible patch over ceremony.
So that was all
a lie , he guessed. But
why would Gunnar want Carter dead? Did he betray the club? Was there another
reason he was killed? The Kings do not kill their own unless something really
serious has happened. A member is usually kicked out for life for serious
offences, not gunned down like this.
Luke’s fevered
brain rages. What was Carter doing in that truck when he was supposed to be up
north? There is only one explanation for it. He was meant to kill his best
friend tonight and it worked. There is only one man who could order such a hit
and have people within the club that would help carry out those orders. His
father set him up and made him kill his best friend. What will he tell Carter’s
mother? The thought of facing that sweet old woman with such tragic news is
almost enough to send Luke back down into the suicidal spiral he’d just come
back from. But first things first. He’ll have to tell Mrs. Jennings what
happened and then he’ll kill the man who really killed Carter; his father.
I will kill
everyone close to him and while he’s stewing in his agony, I’ll slit his throat
and watch him bleed out ,
Luke muses.
Luke is only
vaguely aware of arriving at an unfamiliar house. He barely has the strength to
stand as Anton pulls him out of the truck and helps him up the sidewalk. They go
inside and Luke collapses over a couch. He closes his eyes for a second but has
to open them again. Every time his eyelids come down, he sees Carter’s bloody
face, half his head blown away. He sees the spray of blood, bone and brains
against the truck’s windshield. He sees himself pulling the
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