Page 82 of Pirate

What good was he to anyone?

He looked down at his right hand. Like a phantom hand was gripping his, he tightened it. How could he have let go?

A roar like that of a wild animal broke through his haze. Pirate looked up in time to see Jumper and Ghost rushing to the guardrail. Both were in their skivvies. Like Olympic champions, they ran at the guardrail, planted a bare foot on the top, and leapt into the open air, diving down, down into the river’s depths.

The roaring was coming from Bulldog. He was being held back by Lucky and Bear, both large men having full body locks on the enraged SAA. At first, Pirate couldn’t make out his words through his shouted pain, but through repetition, he understood: “Julian! Julian! No, Julian!”

Two sets of clothing, cuts, and boots lay at the side of the guardrail. Jumper and Ghost. Two former Navy SEALs. They’d gone into the frigid water after Scar.

The sight of Bulldog’s cut on the wet bridge surface clued Pirate in that Bulldog had tried to follow. Lucky and Bear wereholding him back. As experienced a soldier as Bulldog was, Navy SEALs were different. They went through severe training that not many completed. They were in a class all their own.

If Bulldog went into that river, he would not be coming back out.

Jumper and Ghost at least would have a fighting chance. Pirate wished he’d been able to stop them though. He knew something they didn’t. They thought Scar had simply fallen, that he’d hit the water while he was whole and healthy.

Pirate shook Steel off and rushed to Bulldog. Between Lucky and Bear fighting to keep Bulldog from following over the edge of the bridge, Pirate planted himself in front of his SAA’s face and slapped his open palms on the man’s broad chest to get his attention.

“Bulldog, stop!” Pirate shouted. “Stop! He’s gone! Scar’s gone!” When Bulldog continued to fight, Pirate pounded his closed fists against his chest. Hard. “You don’t understand! Bulldog, he was shot!”

Everything seemed to freeze. Bulldog, Lucky, Bear, Steel, the other club members around, the deputies, the paramedics... Slowly, Bulldog lowered his gaze down to Pirate.

“What?” The single worded question was barely audible.

Pirate met his eyes so the man knew he wasn’t fooling him. “Scar was shot. He was barely conscious! I couldn’t see the wound clearly, but… Bulldog, he was hit in the chest.”

It was a good thing Bear and Lucky still had a grip on Bulldog. The man’s knees gave out in the next second. Lucky and Bear fought to keep him standing.

Steel put a hand on Pirate’s shoulder, turning him. “You’re sure? You saw the bullet hit?”

Sadly, Pirate nodded. “It’s what threw them over the edge.”

Steel closed his eyes, bowing his head. Rain continued to fall. “What happened?”

“Sophia and I were driving to the steakhouse. A cage came out of nowhere and—” Pirate gasped. “Pumpkin!”

Steel’s head shot up, his eyes darkened. “What about him?”

Pirate looked around frantically, as if he could spot his friend and brother just up and walking around the crowded bridge. The firetruck had a large floodlight on a high pole that helped to illuminate the entire area. He was surprised it had taken him so long to notice.

“The cage,” Pirate rushed out. “It slammed into Pumpkin’s hog. He went flying. I don’t…” Pirate shook his head. “I don’t know what happened to him.”

“Where?” Steel snapped.

Pirate turned to look down the bridge at where his shot up cage, theHummer, the bodies of the two gunmen, and Pumpkin’s destroyed bike were. An ambulance, police cruiser, and a fire engine were by that accident scene as well.

Without words Grumpy, Demo, and Cage went running down the bridge to find their club brother.

Steel turned back to Pirate. “What happened next?”

“My cage. They started shooting at us.” Pirate looked all around. Where was his M18? He didn’t remember what he’d done with it. He’d had it in his hand when he’d been running up the bridge, but now it was gone. He glanced down at his empty palms. Blood seeped from the deep gash across the palm of his left hand from his grip on the guardrail.

But there was no gun, no Scar.

Pirate’s head shot up. “Sophia! Where’s Sophia?”

“She’s with the paramedics.”

Pirate looked around until he saw her amongst the sea of firemen yellow, police beige, and paramedic blue. She was sitting in the back of an ambulance. Soaked to the bone, looking like a drowned rat, she had a blanket around her shoulders as a paramedic looked her over.

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