Page 91 of Cut Me Down

“Yeah, D. Let’s get these mother fuckers.” I put the car in drive and start to follow the trucks. Tailing about fifty feet back until we get to a good spot and start the operation. Alex squats in the passenger seat, ready to jump out as we pick up speed with the first truck. Moving into a more secluded area outside of downtown, but we know once this gets started, that they’ll trail off into downtown thinking that will make us stop. It won’t.

Going about fifty miles per hour we pull up to the truck. Only swerving beside it when he’s ready to jump. He leaps, grabbing onto the side handle, and begins to hoist himself up. Ready to break the latch to the bed of the box truck and enter the cargo hold. At this point, I look back to see Will quickly pull up behind us and to the other side for Ben to do the same for the other truck.

I quickly duck to the sound of bullets flying outward from inside the truck. It only takes a second for me to get my shit together. So, I look back up, checking to make sure that Alex and Ben are unharmed. Which, thankfully they are.

The revving of a fifth engine roars behind us, drawing my attention. I look back to see that Ezra and Oliver are pulling up behind, Oliver on the hood. Flashing my pistol, I begin to fire into the bed of the truck. Knowing I most likely won’t hit anyone inside, but it’s enough to hopefully cause them to cower for a moment and give the guys an opening. I'm not losing another man today. I never want to do what I had to do last night. Telling a loved one that their husband died. Especially one as close as Henry and I were.

Marissa’s sobs still ring in my ear and plague my thoughts. Henry was a good man and lived for his family. They were all he ever talked about. Besides his mom. She’s clean now but she wasn’t always. She was one of Dust’s buyers a few years back. She doesn’t know that he was working for me and Devil’s Hands, but Marissa did. I expected her to throw me out or hit me when I told her, but she understood.

She said that’s what the wives of my men expect to happen one day. They talk. All of them apparently. About what my men do and how they cope with it. They’ve found the same resources that help military wives help the wives of my men. They stay connected and use one another to get through the worry and fear. Talking about what this life means for their marriages, their kids, and their families.

I wonder when Ashia will be added to their group.

The thought of that almost makes me sick.

Not because the thought of her having friends is repulsive, but what they talk about. I could see the worry in her eyes when I took her home, and I fucking hate it. How long before she’s terrified to watch me walk out of the front door? How many hours of sleep will she lose waiting for me to come home? Was that why the night I saw her at the bar, I saw her curled up in the bed like that? Was she waiting up because she was worried about me? Now that she saw me the way she did last night, is she sitting in the apartment telling Serena how nervous she is about our mission today?

My attention is brought back to the moment when I see Oliver quickly jump onto the back of our truck and lift the door. The heavy metal rolling up and away to reveal three men, and one of them throws a spike track to the ground behind the truck. Ezra has no choice but to run over it, and the car spins out of control. Fishtailing and causing the vehicle to jerk to the right. Screeching towards one of the buildings as we enter downtown. For a moment, my heart stops, waiting for the car to flip over, but luckily he keeps control and comes to an abrupt halt.

“Dispatching Chris for a pickup.” Carter says. Somehow grounding me with his familiar voice. The trucks then swerve into the downtown area just as Oliver shoots and fights the men in the back. The second truck veers to the right, and the other takes the same right, but then veers left down a side street. Both heading into two different sides of downtown. Ours heading towards the apartment.

She better fucking be inside.

“Carter, give me a short cut, we have to make this quick.” I swerve left with our truck and wait a second, listening to his incessant typing for his instructions.

“Next left.” I ease off the gas slowly and jerk my steering wheel to drift down the alley way. The rugged feel of the tires sliding sends jolts through my limbs. The squealing pierces my eardrums. “Skip two, and then right.” I do as he says and circle my steering wheel with as much control as possible to speed down the road. “If I'm right, the truck should be turning…now.” He’s right. He’s always right. The truck I was just following turns left onto the street I’m now on, and I face it as I speed up.

I love the way cars feel at high speeds. I feel the rumble through my arms and into my chest. It’s a reminder that I’m alive, and that used to be something I chased after. Ever since I met Ashia though, I haven’t needed it. She reminds me how alive I actually am every moment I’m with her. She’s taken my life to a new height, and nothing else I could ever chase will amount to it. No length of a car chase, no amount of bullets, or smoke bellowing in the air. Nothing else will ever compare to her.

I stomp the gas and head straight toward the oncoming threat, practically playing chicken with the truck. Using my upper arm and core muscles, I pull myself out of the window, aim into the windshield of the truck with my pistol, and shoot. Hitting the driver in the head and I watch as his body slumps into the steering wheel. Honking the horn in a constant alarm. The truck swerves out of the way just in time, and I look back in the rear view to see Alex climbing the side of the truck and opening the driver’s side door before throwing his body out and taking over the truck. Weaving back onto the road in the correct lane.

“Are you two good?” I ask through the com. Checking on Oliver and Alex.

“We’re good, D. Unharmed. We’re taking the shipment to the drop off point.” Oliver replies. The drop off point being the PD Auto Shop. Every time we’ve had to take a target vehicle to them, it’s easy to drop off and they can’t process the evidence then and there. So, it’s at least guarded until an officer comes to catalog the truck like a crime scene. I'm sure there’s been numerous calls about the road chase. There’s been nothing but constant gunfire and speeding vehicles, so we can be expecting PD to come barreling down the streets at any minute.

“Radar?” I ask Carter.

“Four cars, eight officers headed to the area. Convergence in two minutes.” Carter tells me, and I immediately circle back. Heading in the direction of the second truck to assist.

Chapter thirty-four

Ashia

I'm sitting on the kitchen counter eating some grapes and I can’t get him off of my mind. My body still tingles from his caress, and I swear I can still smell him. He is intoxicating. His sweet words, his soft touch, it's all consuming. He’s fully infiltrated my mind and my heart. I find myself swirling my fingertips along my own thigh to mimic his touch, already wanting him back home. I want to lose myself in his deep ocean eyes as we continue to explore each other’s valleys. Craving to hear his funny jokes, and sweet confessions.

He's going to be okay. He does this type of thing every day. Always telling me what warehouses he took down, dealers he’s stopped, and all of the danger he dealt with that day. This isn’t any different, right? I mean, a car chase is definitely different. There’s more that could kill him than a stray bullet. His car could swerve, and he could hit something. He could collide with one of those trucks they were looking at. What if the trucks lead them to another location where there’s even more men? Do they know where the trucks were headed?

How do the wives of his men deal with this every day? Is that what military wives tell themselves? How do they live with this? He’s not overseas, or across the country where I can’t be with him like soldiers are, but this is terrifying. Is it even comparable? I suppose it is. One wrong move, and I could never see him again.

I long to touch him. Smell him. Just see him. I need to know if he’s okay. I don't want to risk texting him, because knowing him, he’d stop what he was doing to try and respond. Texting and driving kills even when someone isn’t in a high-speed chase. So, I definitely don’t need to be texting him right now. I need to know that I’m truly not a distraction for him. I would hope he wouldn’t put himself in danger for something so trivial as a text message, but I know he would. Just to make sure I was alright. How else can I know if he’s okay while he’s out there? How do the other wives?

The lock on my front door clicks. The sound feels like a punch to the chest. I look up, and my heart skips a beat. Waiting for Damien to turn the corner, but then I see Serena instead, and my heart sinks. It’s not that I don’t want to see her, I was just hoping it was him.

“Oh! Someone looks happy! Fill me in, I feel like we’ve barely talked.” She walks up to me and sits next to me on the counter. “Spill. How’s stalker boy?” She says as she bobs her head. I can’t help but release a small groan and roll my eyes.

“Damien, his name is Damien. Remember?” I say, aggravatingly.

“Fine,Damien. How’sDamien? Big horse dickDamien?” She rocks her head back and forth and exasperatingly says his name. I laugh as she steals my grapes. Popping two in her mouth at a time.

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