I couldn’t believe I hadn’t fucking thought of that. “Fuck me dry. Listen, let me text Ford and jump in the fuel truck. I’m driving it up there from the Citadel. It’s slow as molasses as you know, so in the meantime, you call him. I’ve got Wolf riding sweep.”
Lytton didn’t even ask me if we were armed. He probably correctly assumed we were. “Go as fast as you safely can. Maybe you could park behind that big boulder that’s on the right before the motel and pick off a few Ochoas if they’re harassing people.”
“Got it. Call Ford.” I quickly texted Ford two sentences, then paused, wondering if I should text Pippa. Wolf was texting furiously, obviously warning Tracy. I decided time was too valuable. “Wolf, take my Panhead and ride sweep. Not too closely. You want to be able to see what’s up ahead. If they’re heading for the Smoky Mountain, we’ll stop prior to that and assess the situation.”
“I’m on it like a hobo on a ham sandwich.”
I tried to focus solely on the road in front of me. But after about fifteen minutes of driving, texts started coming in fast and furious. I assumed this meant that the Ochoas had shown up at the Smoky Mountain. I just glanced at my phone and saw that most were from Pippa. One from Lytton and one from Ford. The last thing I wanted to do was park the fuel truck sideways, and it had been a long time since I’d driven such a large piece of equipment. I was sure I couldn’t text and drive, so I forced myself to leave them unread.
I narrowed down my focus. At least ten of my friends were working on the motel. Ten Ochoas taking them by surprise while they hung drywall? Easy. Even if the Ochoas were on their way to Leaves of Grass, the second they saw all that Illuminati Brothers equipment in the motel parking lot, the Harleys, the cages, they’d know what was up. They could easily change their plans. And no doubt they were armed to the teeth.
I was actually surprised one of them hadn’t pulled over to take out my fuel truck, or to run my Panhead off the road. The truck’s door was clearly labeled with the Illuminati logo. Why had they all passed us by without so much as a glance? Now they’d know we were coming up the hill, and would be expecting us. I approached the motel and the big boulder Lytton suggested we hide behind.
Noisily and creakily, I pulled the giant tanker to the shoulder. I was sure the Ochoas could hear the heavy truck crunching rocks. I leaped out of the door, pointing to Wolf Glaser to follow me behind the boulder. Now we were silent as we padded hunched over around the back side of the giant rock.
Yes. The Ochoas had surrounded the motel. I counted eight of them ringing the V shape of the midcentury motel, all clutching Russian ladies. There had been at least two other beaners, so they must’ve gone around the back where each unit had a little deck area for viewing the nonexistent lake. All of the Bare Bones vehicles were parked off to one side in the grass due to the parking lot overlay job, but the Ochoas had parked on the old parking lot, only half of which was paved and had never been compacted. Ford, Knoxie, Faux Pas, Speed, Kneecap, Gollywow—they were all standing around on verandahs of different units. Some guys held mudding knives or electric drills. I knew some went around armed day and night, but of course they didn’t dare draw their weapons, being surprised at a disadvantage like they were.
“What the fuck,” groused Wolf. “Those are innocent fucking people in there. What kind of arms you got in your saddlebags? Sniper rifle? Chopper or street sweeper?”
“I’ve got the sniper rifle and a SAW,” I said, mentioning the squad auto weapon, a portable light machine gun. “But I’ve got one better. I’ve got a fuel truck.”
A car slowed down to rubberneck at the sight of the ring of thugs surrounding the renovated motel. One of the baby gangsters shot out the rear window, causing the car to speed away toward Leaves of Grass. That was just brilliant, getting a stranger involved, a stranger who was ninety-nine percent likely to alert the cops.
“God damnit,” said Wolf. “They’re showing us they’re willing to kill. Oh fuck, who’s that?”
Abel Ochoa and a few other thugs stomped out of the office. The other guy held a Mexican cleaning woman by the arm, but Abel Ochoa had Madison Illuminati whipping her around like a lariat. Abel shrieked in that high pitched tone of someone upset beyond any logic or reason.
“I want to know who took out my father! I won’t blast this pretty little lady’s brains all over the parking lot if you hand over whoever killed my father!”
I didn’t trust a word of it. He wouldn’t leave Madison alone even if I came out with my hands up.
Not in a million fucking years.
PIPPA
“Slushy, can I tell you something in confidence?”
“Of course you can. I wouldn’t be worth half a damn if I didn’t honor attorney-client privilege. What’s up?”