Elias (17 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE

"Got you, asshole," Elias said, and then looked over at Eric, "Blue Nova!" he yelled above the din of the engines.

Eric was already pulling out from behind the limo, and heading for the street. Elias gunned the V-rod and beat him there, then turned left, following the Nova. The remaining Wolves fell in behind them, ignoring the limo now. Bikes that had taken off previously were circling back around. When they spotted Elias' V-rod heading down the road, they followed at speed.

The pack reformed up behind Elias and Eric as the two of them roared down the roads chasing the Nova, which was in turn chasing Duffy's trike.

Elias and Eric were careful not to get too close. They needed to be on the freeway, outside of the city, before they made their move, but they knew the car now, and Elias knew in his gut that the driver was Tomas.

"You're fucking mine, asshole," Elias growled as he and Eric turned a corner just in time to see the Nova turn at the one ahead of them.

They knew where Duffy was taking Tomas, and the riders behind them began to break off from the pack again, this time running ahead, getting in front of the trail, preparing the ambush.

Elias and Eric stuck to the Nova's tail, keeping their distance but still keeping the vehicle in sight. Elias kept an eye on the Nova without actually looking at it so that Tomas wouldn't
feel
him.

People get insights and can feel someone's intentions. Ask any experienced special ops member about it, and he'll have a hundred stories about sentries turning around at nothing and looking straight at them. No sound, no scent, just the feeling of being hunted creeping up their spines. Call it what you would like—ESP, collective unconscious, whatever. The fact was it existed, and it seemed to be most active during high stress situations.

That's why Elias and Eric stuck to the Nova. Tomas might suddenly
feel
the ambush ahead, and take off and bolt. In that event, they were the ones responsible for riding him down and taking him out on their own.

The Nova hit the entrance ramp for the freeway and began chasing Duffy west. The other riders would have made it to the freeway by quicker means, and should now be well ahead of the Nova and Duffy, running hard to prepare for the kill. The limo should be on its way back to its garage, and the girls returning back to their homes.

They were just outside the city limits when the Nova slowed down a bit and let Duffy get further ahead of him. Tomas apparently knew how to follow someone, which made sense, him being a cop. He was probably better at it than any of the Wolves, including Eric and himself. Elias slowed down with the Nova, falling back enough that they wouldn't spook Tomas.

They ran herd on Tomas for nearly twenty miles, and then Duffy, far ahead now, ran into the dirt way between west-bound and east-bound, bounced back up on the East bound side, and opened that racing Porsche motor of his up full bore. Elias swore he heard Duffy screaming
Whaa-hoooo!

The trike lifted up. The front end left the ground as the back tires torched with power. Duffy road the trike that way for over a hundred yards before he could get the front end back down.

The Nova kept going west much longer than it should have. Tomas was supposed to chase Duffy back toward the city—the double blind convincing him that Chelsea
was
actually in the limo, and Duffy just took him for a stroll, the idea being that Tomas would be so worked up he would never see the ambush coming—one of Eric's little spins. But the Nova kept going, and the trike was running faster than Elias expected it to run. The damn thing was fucking fast.

Elias felt his gun, and was just about to give his V-rod its wind and ride Tomas down, when the Nova suddenly cut into the dirt divider and came back up on the east-bound side with surprising grace, and a shit load of power. Smoke poured out of the back tires as the obviously powered-up, after-stock engine came to life and was given its freedom to run.

Elias watched it go, slowing down to cut the dirt divider himself with Eric. It looked like this was going to be a pack kill after all, which was fine with Elias just as long as the job got done.

Just as he was ready to go, Elias' hairs on the back of his neck rose up and he turned in time to see the Nova cut
back
across the dirt way and come up on the west-bound side behind them.

"Shit," Elias said, watching the same show as before of smoking tires, and then the Nova was suddenly hurtling at them—a clear and present danger with decreasing range.

He jerked his head toward Eric. Their eyes met, and the both of them gunned their bikes as hard as they could to bring them back up to speed and keep ahead of the Nova, which was gaining on them with alarming fury.

"Fuck, he figured it out. goddamn it," Elias growled.

Not only had Tomas seemed to figure out the ambush plan, but he must have also spotted him and Eric behind him as well. Elias had no doubt that Tomas' intention right now was to run them down, and as nice as a Harley is, it didn't stand a chance in a ramming contest with a fast-moving Nova.

It was just about three in the morning, and there were no vehicles other than the Nova and themselves to be seen. Duffy was long out of sight, and so was the rest of the pack. Eric and Elias were on their own against Tomas, who had the clear advantages of size, power, and range. They could run, but he would catch them. If they could get off the freeway into some kind of cityscape the tables would turn, but out here on the black, the advantage was clearly in his court.

Eric and Elias ran, and Elias had no doubt the other man was thinking the same thoughts he was.

The Nova was gaining. Slowly now, but gaining. The engine in that thing was definitely not stock. Elias still had some power available in the V-rod at 164 miles per hour, but the Heritage Eric was riding was pegged at this speed. He could hear it in the engine. Eric had nothing left. This was the max. And still the Nova was creeping up on them as they flew across the nightscape West of El Paso, heading into the black.

Elias kept pace with Eric. He wasn't going to leave him. Whatever they were going to do, they would do together. The Nova crept closer. It had to be doing at least 170 to be gaining on them like it was.

The V-rod was born for this. It ran hard, and seemed to suck down onto the road. Instead of feeling like he had less control, Elias felt like he had more, much more.

He wondered what Eric was dealing with over on the Heritage at this speed.

Then, in the mirror, there was another headlight back behind the Nova. Someone else was out here in the black with them. The headlight back there was gaining, growing larger. It had to be doing 200 plus to be coming up that fast.

"That's not a cop," Elias said to himself as he leaned into what would normally be an easy highway bend in the road, but instead was a turn he had to concentrate on.

The look on Eric's face told him that he was struggling with the speed they were at. The Heritage wasn't designed for this kind of riding, and it might not hold up much longer under the strain. If his engine blew at this speed, the Nova might not get the chance run him over before he was dead.

The light behind the Nova was even brighter now, and still seemed to be gaining speed and coming faster. 220mph? 230? What the fuck was back there?

Another bend, and the new rider was practically on top of the Nova and coming close to passing distance.

Then the Nova’s lights warbled and then then cut right toward the shoulder of the road.

Elias and Eric, in unison, and with no hesitation at all, let up on the gas, eased the breaks, and began to gear down. Engines roared in protest at being hauled back from the torturous speeds. The Nova hit the shoulder and continued to go off the road. The new rider roared past them at an amazing velocity, but no velocity was fast enough to hide the ear-to-ear smile of Duffy hurtling by.

Son of a bitch!
Elias yelled in his head, and let out a whoop for Duffy and his trike with the hilariously over powered engine while also sending a silent prayer up that Duffy knew how to stop that thing.

Eric was all business as he powered the Heritage down in order to follow the Nova into the terrain on the side of the freeway.

The Nova crashed through a barb wire fence and out into a pasture, where it struggled for control. What Duffy did to it, Elias didn't know, but Duffy was carrying a shot gun on that trike of his, so it was likely that he blew out the back tire.

Dust rose in a blackening cloud from around the Nova as it did a half spin and then came to a stop. Eric and Elisa got their bikes slowed down fast enough to follow it through the hole in the fence and into the pasture. As soon as they were close, both riders braked and laid their bikes down into the dirt, sliding to a stop on their asses, guns drawn.

Gunfire roared out from the side of the Nova, splitting the night with barrel flashes.

Eric returned fire first, even before he had fully come to a stop in his slide, but Elias' 9mm barked into the night right behind him like a fast echo. They aimed slightly to the right and left of the flashes coming from the side of the Nova, and then the flashes of Tomas' gun were vertical, shooting up into the stars above.

Elias emptied his clip into the shadowed area where training and experience told him a body would have to be according to the location of the firing gun.

Then it grew quiet, an eerie, deep night quiet all around them that seemed to devour the noise of the idling bike motors and the knocking idle of the Nova. The Nova's headlights cut the darkness with blinding beams, robing Elias' night vision. He got off his ass and began to move in a clockwise circle around the Nova. Eric followed suit, going counter-clockwise.

Elias watched carefully as Eric passed through the beams of the Nova headlights, but nothing moved in or around the idling car. They met behind the vehicle and then moved forward, low, guns out, barrels searching with the sweep of their eyes.

Coming up alongside the Chevy, they found him. Tomas. His eyes were open, glassy. Black splotches decorated his shirt across his chest and his abs.

Elias could hear the detective breathing, though it was a wet, very unhealthy sound. So he put a bullet in Tomas' head.

When the sound of the shot died away into the night, he turned and walked back toward his bike. It was over. Chelsea was safe. Now it was time to get to her as soon as possible. Eric followed without a word. They picked up their bikes together, brothers in arms, and straddled them. Then they idled them back out of the hole in the fence, down the short incline to the shoulder, and to the edge of the freeway.

A roaring sound caught their attention, and they both looked west to see Duffy returning on this trike. He crossed the dirt barrier and pulled up in front of them. To the east appeared a pack of headlights, coming on fast.

"Is it done?" Duffy yelled over to them.

"Yeah, it's done," Elias told him.

"Then let's get the hell out of here. I want to get my bike!"

"How are you going to get it home?" Elias yelled back at him.

Duffy opened his mouth, then closed it, his eyes blinking.

CHAPTER THIRTY SIX

Over forty men seemed to be an awful lot to guard one woman, but no one wanted to leave. They took over Fred's Desert Inn Hotel, sharing rooms there and shifts at the hospital where Chelsea lay in various degrees of semi-coherent states. The general mood was down, and the consensus was that they were too late. They succeeded in putting Tomas down, but not soon enough. Chelsea was still hurting from his treatment.

Doc told them that this was bound to happen, with or without Tomas. If Chelsea pulled through, she had a real chance of recovery. However, Doc wouldn't answer what the chances of her pulling through
were
. So far, there didn't seem to be much change, and it was over a week since she had her meltdown. Doc told Elias that she was fairly certain Chelsea wasn't hallucinating any longer. She was just, in Chelsea's own term, "broke."

Elias sat with her daily, holding her hand, telling her it was alright to come back, because Tomas couldn't hurt her any longer. Tomas was gone—dead. He couldn't hurt anyone any longer. They were all safe. After he said this and similar sentiments to her, he just sat with her, holding her hand and running his fingers through her hair. Sometimes she would say a few things, but Elias couldn't make sense of them. Sometimes she would just murmur.

Days passed and turned into another week. John and Larry called saying they had already talked to the hospital about the bill, and that they were not to worry about it. Elias thanked them, though he could have told them he wasn't worried about the bill. Whatever she needed, she would get.

He bought a new laptop in town and began bringing that to the hospital to do some day-trading. He had a new chair brought into the room as well so he could sit beside her for longer periods of time without destroying his back.

On the third Wednesday of his arriving by her side again, he bent to kiss her forehead as he did every morning and caught a fragrant scent from her hair.

"Your hair smells good Chelsea," he told her. "I wonder what they are washing it with now. Smells like flowers."

"Does it?" Chelsea asked, in a soft voice.

"Yes," he answered. "Here, smell it." And he pulled a long lock under her nose.

She took a sniff, and then another. "Flowers," she murmured, and then drifted off to sleep.

Elias kissed her forehead again, combed her hair back into place with his fingers, and sat down beside her bed on the new chair and began his day of work.

Doc came in around lunch, took her pulse, checked her charts and monitors, gave Elias a smile, and then left again. A few of the guys came in throughout the day, some with little presents or cards, or flowers to replace the ones that were beginning to wilt.

Eric came in after three and said he was on his way back to Houston. Elias talked to John, and they agreed that Eric was the best candidate for acting Sergeant at Arms until Elias could bring Chelsea home again. The two men shook hands, and then clapped each other on the back. Eric gave Chelsea a small stuffed bunny and then walked out of the room.

Close to five, Elias was getting ready to pack up when Chelsea asked him, "When can we go home?"

Elias looked over at her and took her hand. "Whenever you want, baby. You just need to say the word, and Doc will start helping you get ready to go."

Chelsea looked at him, and for the first time in over three weeks, her eyes were clear and focused. She was really seeing him.

"I'm still a little tired, but I can sleep at home. Right?"

"Yes, you can. Our bed is waiting for you," he agreed.

"How far away are we?"

He smiled. "Pretty far. You had a long ride. Do you remember that?"

She nodded. "Across the mountains, and the desert, and through the night. It was a long ride."

"We'll let you go home on a plane," he told her.

"I like planes. Will you fly with me?"

"I have to bring my bike home. I rode here. But I'll be there soon. Doc will take care of you until I arrive. It won't be long. In fact, if you take a nap when you get home, I'll probably be there by the time you wake up."

"That would be nice. I missed you."

"I missed you too."

"I'm still a little scared."

"Tomas isn't going to hurt you anymore. He's gone, baby. He died."

She looked at him, confused for a moment, and then said, "Good." And that was the last time they would ever discuss Tomas again.