v Ashley: Golden Trail

“My wife was kidnapped and nearly shot in the head, man. I got guns everywhere.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Good call since it was a yes.”

“Right, we’re done,” Layne stated and flipped his phone closed.

Then he reached up, turned off the interior cab light, pulled the keys out of the ignition, tossed them to Ryker who caught them and his eyes went to the door to the stairs.

Layne was right, she felt the heat. They didn’t wait five minutes before the door to the stairs opened and Nicolette Towers showed, wearing sick fuck, underage gang rape party hostess gear of fancy-ass dress and spike heels, her hair out to there, her face made up to perfection. She had a bodyguard but, thank Christ, only one.

Ryker flipped open his phone and Layne didn’t look at him. He opened his door, slid around it, didn’t close it and then ran quickly and silently, moving behind parked vehicles, keeping his eyes on Towers and her goon.

They were walking swiftly but engaged in intense conversation which was a mistake. At least the bodyguard should be vigilant. They must have clocked the intensity of the operation gearing up inside the hotel. She looked pissed. He looked tweaked.

Layne slid up the side of a Pathfinder, positioning at the hood. They were walking toward him. He bent with his body behind the vehicle, his gun aimed, arms resting on the hood.

“Hands where I can see them,” he barked when they were two cars away from the Mazda.

The goon didn’t hesitate. He yanked a weapon out of his shoulder holster and started firing. Towers dashed to the Mazda.

Bullets slammed into the Pathfinder and ricocheted off, Layne returned fire almost blind then ducked. More fire coming his way but also from Cal shooting from the opposite direction.

The Pathfinder stopped taking hits and Layne bolted up, the goon was turned, returning Cal’s fire. Layne aimed and fired, connected a bullet to his calf and the guy went down to his knee. Cal kept shooting and more gunfire entered play. Ryker had made his call and was in the game.

The Mazda reversed out of the spot, Towers cutting the wheel, riding the rims. She either didn’t know or didn’t care her man was down behind her because the Mazda slammed right into him. Layne wasn’t in the position to see how she got him but he heard his howl of agony. She shifted into first and Layne moved out of cover, hunkered down and launched himself on the hood of her car.

Finding purchase on the lip of the hood by the windshield with one hand, his belly to the metal, their eyes locked.

She cut the wheel and Layne’s body went sliding, she slammed into a car and skidded through it and the next, still moving.

Then she cut the wheel the other way to make the turn through the garage, the Mazda nearly uncontrollable, riding on rims and Layne’s body flew with the car and his hold slipped but held at his top knuckles.

She righted the car and he lifted his gun, taking aim at her shoulder.

He pulled the trigger just as she cut the wheel again, his shot went wide and so did his body. He was losing his grip, he wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer. They skimmed down cars, metal against metal, sparks flying around his legs. Layne heaved himself back to full on the hood, raised the gun and took aim when he heard sirens.

She cut the other way but Layne got off two shots through the windscreen then let go, rolling with the movement of the car, he lucked out and rolled straight onto the hood of another vehicle rather than crashing to the ground and getting caught under her tires or smashed between the Mazda and another car.

He rolled up the windscreen then down to his back. He did an ab curl just in time to see Towers drive through two empty spots, slam into the side of a car and stop.

Layne slid off the car and dropped to his feet, on the run the minute they touched the ground.

She threw open her door and fell out, crawling. He lifted his gun, took aim and shouted, “Freeze!”

She rolled to her back, lifting a .22 in his direction, blood staining the front of her dress.

Ryker came in from the right, shoving his big body though the opening, he dropped down between floors, his tree trunk legs took the impact then he was up and he trained his .45 on her.

“Give me a reason,” he growled.

Cal pounded up behind Layne then slowed, gun drawn, aimed, head cocked to the sight, he inched forward beside Layne.

Her eyes circled the men then her hand dropped, not that she was giving up, she couldn’t hold it up anymore. Layne knew this because her body dropped too, flat on her back on the pavement of a parking garage. A bubble of blood escaped her lips and then slid down the side of her mouth.

They all approached slowly except Ryker who got there quick and kicked her gun out of her hand.

She was audibly wheezing then the blood gurgled in her throat.

Ryker crouched beside her and Layne and Cal tensed.

“Brother,” Layne whispered as units came skidding around the parking garage, screeching to a halt, sirens blaring, lights flashing.

There was a lot of noise but, even so, Layne could hear as Ryker pulled the phlegm up his throat.

Then he bent and spit, the slimy, yellow hocker hitting her smack on the cheekbone, splashing into her eye.

“Cunt,” he hissed then straightened.

“Stand down,” a uniform ordered and all eyes moved to the advancing cops.

Layne dropped his gun hand, so did Cal. Ryker shoved his in his back waistband.

The cops must have got a head’s up from Merry. They immediately lost interest in Layne, Cal and Ryker and trained their guns on Towers.

“Shit,” Cal growled slow and Layne looked to him to see he was looking at Layne. Then he smiled just as slow. “You are one crazy motherfucker. Fuck me, you jumped on her car, man.”

Ryker strolled close, his eyes locked on Layne.

Then he said two words.

“Epic, bro.”

Layne, Cal and Ryker strode into the foyer of The Townsend as Merry was moving through it.

The minute Merry saw them he grinned huge, his gait quickened and that fist that had hold of Layne’s chest loosened.

There was no reason to smile.

Unless a miracle happened.

“Word’s spreadin’, big man, remember us little people when you’re baskin’ in LA sunshine and the glow of superstardom,” Merry remarked upon arrival.

“What?” Layne asked at this unexpected opening.

“Parking garage’s got manned cameras, Tanner, that shit’s flyin’ ‘round so fast –”

“You wanna cut the crap and tell me about my girl?” Ryker barked and Merry looked at him, his grin still in place.

“Yeah, man, I do,” he said without hesitation. “They took the floor, only blood shed was blood that deserved to leak. The team they put together was top notch. They got into the rooms and all the clients were inside. Champagne and hors d’oeuvres. The good news for you, brother, is that Alexis and the other girls had not yet regained consciousness. They’re not only untouched, they don’t even know where they are.” Merry looked to Layne. “Apparently, they wait for them to be awake. Each suite had two bedrooms and a sitting room. In each suite, one bedroom had our girls in it, the sitting room had drinks and munchies, the last bedroom had girls from her stable. Previews for the final show but they didn’t get the final show. Got some of ‘em caught in the act. Pervs are fucked, every last one of them, pants down or not.”

“She’s okay?” Ryker growled.

“She’s absolutely fine. She’s with a female officer and still unconscious,” Merry answered.

And that was when Ryker collapsed. One second he was standing, the next second his ass was to the floor, his knees bent to the ceiling, his forearms to his knees and his head was bowed between his legs. Merry, Cal and Layne all looked down at a big man brought low by a miracle.