Never Play Another Man's Game by Mike Knowles Page B

Bad. Three times, low in the body. We need a place to take him.”
    â€œI know a guy. You need to get him to Brantford. I’ll give you directions.”
    â€œNo good,” I said as I moved D.B.’s hand off the third shot. “The car we’re in is going to be real hot real soon. You need to meet me somewhere and pick him up.”
    â€œWhere?”
    I pinned the bandage in place and jammed a fresh one under D.B.’s back. He screamed louder than before as I wrapped it around his thick abdomen.
    â€œWhat the hell was that?”
    â€œBowling alley at the end of the Lincoln Alexander Parkway. You know it?”
    â€œYeah. I’m sending people. You want to tell me what happened?”
    â€œJust get to the bowling alley,” I said. “I’ll park around back.”
    I ended the call and finished wrapping. D.B. looked like half a mummy when I was done. I could already see blood getting through the bandages, but the flow had slowed considerably from the pressure of the wrappings.
    â€œWho was that?” I asked.
    â€œThat was the Big Dawg,” he whispered.
    Roland “Big Dawg” Simcoe. The head of the Forty Thieves. A man in charge of an army of bikers with less sense than D.B. A man who would want some answers about what happened to his number two.
    â€œHey,” D.B. whispered. “Where the fuck are the Smarties?”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN
    B ehind the bowling alley were a few Dumpsters and a chain-link fence running along the other side of thesingle-lane road that sat like a dry moat behind the building. Through the fence, I could see the parkway. Worse, the parkway could see me. The black Jeep wasn’t hot before the job, but it was parked outside the garage. When they found the armoured truck, they might find someone who noticed the Jeep. There was also a chance Ruby could do something rash. She was panicked and on the run. She might decide to leak the Jeep to the police, hoping that they could finish what was started inside the garage with their police issue pieces. It was a stupid and risky idea; if we got caught instead of killed, we wouldn’t have the money on us. Even a uniform would be smart enough to figure out that meant we had accomplices. We’d have no reason to keep Ruby, Rick, or Franky’s names out of the cop’s ears. Ratting was nothing but a bad idea, but so was trying to shoot us. I couldn’t plan for only good ideas; they didn’t seem to be in big supply today. I had to plan for anything that could happen and that meant I had to get rid of the Jeep.
    I pulled in tight against the building and left the engine running.
    â€œYou still alive, D.B.?”
    â€œYeah.” His voice was so quiet I could barely hear it over the heat blowing out of the vents.
    â€œI know this will sound insensitive, seeing as you’re shot up, but I need to know. Should I expect Roland to show up ready to kill me?”
    I heard D.B. laugh. “Yeah,” he whispered.
    I had thought as much. Whether or not I was directly at fault, I was delivering the Big Dawg’s number two all shot up. I was the messenger, and the messenger doesn’t have a lot of luck in what I do. If Roland didn’t try to kill me outright, he would at least want to take me for a trunk ride. He would want to know why D.B. could now be confused with Swiss cheese. If he found out about Ruby, Franky, her kid, and the money, he would cut himself in and edge me out.
    â€œGo,” D.B. said.
    It was unnecessary; my mind was already made up. I got out of the Jeep and opened the trunk.
    â€œGive me your phone,” I said.
    D.B. didn’t move anything but his eyes. He tried to look at the floor beside him, but he only managed a glance at his shoulder. I followed the path and saw the phone beside him on the floor of the Jeep. I picked it up and touched redial. Roland picked up on the first ring.
    â€œYeah?”
    â€œYou coming for