Page 94 of Golden Touch
Craning my neck to peer around a cop, I see video of the DairyQueen. Razor has grabbed Livia’s hands behind her back, and he’s zip-tying her wrists together.
She valiantly tries to kick backwards at Razor, but he sidesteps her. Meanwhile, the gun glints from his back pocket.
I can’t see Livia’s face, but there’s more tension in her body than anyone should have to bear.
“Fuck!” I yell.
Benito ignores me. A noise that sounds like lawn equipment roars through the mic, making everything more chaotic.
Razor says something, but he’s not as close to the mic this time. I think it’s, “Where are your car keys?”
“C-cupholder,” Livia stammers.
He waves at one of his guys and then points at her car.
“I t-told my boyfriend I was meeting you here,” she stammers. This is something else Benito coached her to say. “If I don’t call him in ten minutes, he’s going to freak.”
Razor’s reply isn’t clear. But on the video, one of the other bikers gets into Livia’s car and starts the engine.
“Route 4 units stand by,” Benito barks into his headset. At his command, the police will stop either or both vehicles on the road.
It better happen fast. I won’t draw a full breath until she’s safe again.
But Razor doesn’t put her in the truck or the Subaru. I watch, helpless, while he grabs her by the wrists and points her in exactly the opposite direction—toward the back of the lot, and the forested area behind it.
“Aren’t we getting in the car?” Livia yelps.
He shoves her toward the back of the lot.
“He’s heading east,” Benito clips. “Tactical Services stand by.”
I stop breathing as Livia drops her head and shuffles away from the camera. They trudge toward the shadow of the Dairy Queen.
“Go soda pop!” says Benito.
My terrified mind can’t make sense of that order until I notice movement at the edge of the frame. It’s coming from a pallet ofsoft drinks sitting on the asphalt. An arm shoots from around the pallet and reaches for Razor’s ankles.
And then everything happens at once. The hidden cop snags Razor, and Razor starts to topple like a timbered tree. The momentum takes down Livia, because Razor has a hold on her wrists.
“Ow!” she shouts into the mic as she pitches helplessly toward the ground, falling into the dirt.
The cop pounces on Razor’s back, and Livia flings herself out of their way. “Watch the gun!” she yells, sitting up.
The cop is on it, though, immobilizing Razor, and more police swarm the property as Benito shouts instructions into his mic.
“Freeze! State Police! Hands up!”
I hear the lawn equipment go silent and thewhoop whoopof police sirens growing louder.
This is a serious operation. Benito didn’t lie. The two bikers who arrived in the truck are in handcuffs already.
And Benito isn’t done. Other video feeds in the van show footage from drones in several other locations, where different factions of the motorcycle club are being raided.
But I only have eyes for Livia. Eventually, I see a cop cut the zip ties off her wrists. He helps her to her feet as Razor is being led away toward a cruiser.
My girl sways on her feet, drunk on adrenaline and terror.
But she’s also smiling from ear to ear, because she knows she did it. It’s really over.
