I'm sorry, kid, for kicking you out. I was scared. I know, Caleb said quietly. It's okay. It's not okay.
Your daddy would have been ashamed of me. Vernon pulled out his keys and handed them to Caleb. Shop's yours while I'm gone. You need tools, parts, whatever, take them. Just stay alive, yeah.
Caleb took the keys, his throat tight. Yeah, you too, Uncle Vernon.
Vernon nodded once, then hurried to his own truck and peeled out of the lot like the devil was chasing him. Maybe he was. Reeves's phone buzzed. She answered, listened, and her expression darkened. Understood.
Keep me posted. She hung up and looked at the assembled group. That was my tactical team. They just raided Dalton's house, found maps, surveillance photos, and a burner phone with texts coordinating the hit on Arthur. Also found a go bag with $200,000 in cash and a plane ticket to Panama.
Was going to run, Arthur said. Probably why he tried to kill me yesterday. Tie up loose ends before disappearing. Most likely. Reeves gestured to her sedan.
I need to get back to Phoenix, coordinate the takedown of the rest of Dalton's network. Arthur, you should come with me. Get proper medical attention. I'm fine. You're bleeding through your bandages.
Arthur looked down at the spreading red stain on his side and grimaced. Okay, I'm moderately fine. Hospital. Now.
Reeves turned to Clutch. You've got my number. Anything happens, you call. Will do. Clutch watched as Arthur limped toward the sedan, then called out, Hey, Arthur.
Arthur turned. You ever want to ride with us again, for real this time, you got a patch waiting. Clutch's voice was gruff, but sincere. What you did going undercover, living that life for 5 years, that took guts. You earned your place.
Arthur's smile was tired, but genuine. Thanks, brother. Might take you up on that when this is over.
The sedan pulled away, followed by the Crown Vic with Dalton cuffed in the backseat. The other deputies were loaded into state police cruisers that had materialized from the highway. As the official vehicles disappeared, the tension in the lot shifted. The bikers who'd been still as statues suddenly came alive, engines revving, voices calling out. All right, brothers, let's roll.
Clutch swung onto his bike. Caleb, you ride with Tiny. A massive biker, easily six feet eight inches tall and 300 pounds, pulled up on a Harley with a passenger seat. The irony of his road name wasn't lost on Caleb. You ever been on a bike?
Tiny asked. His voice was surprisingly soft, almost gentle. Couple times. Friend had a dirt bike in high school. This ain't a dirt bike, Tiny grinned.