“What about the authorities? Shouldn’t we wait to make a statement?”
I shook my head. “Not how shit like this works, babe. Not in this world. Not for me.”
She swung on, hesitantly. I could tell she was scared. Shaken by what I’d done. By the whole scene. She glanced at Yak, who wasn’t moving. At all.
“Is he…?”
I twisted the throttle more aggressively than I needed to. “Don’t know, don’t care,” I shouted over the roar of the engine and the screech of the tires. “Not my fuckin’ problem.”
Not sure she heard that last part, drowned out as it was by the noise and the wind. She held on tight, and I put the hammer down, hauling ass back to the freeway and hitting it at about Mach one. She was shaking, her fingers digging into my chest.
“C-Crow?” Barely able to get a breath out. “Please. S-slow down.”
I glanced at the speedometer and realized I was doing ninety-five, and this was her first time on a bike. I slacked off on the accelerator. I had to make a call anyway.
I slowed, pulled off onto the shoulder, leaving the engine idling and propped us up with both feet as I tugged my helmet off and pulled my phone out of my jeans. I dialed Tran’s number—which, a long time ago, I’d hoped to never have to call again.
It rang, once, twice, three times. “Crow.”
“Hey, Tran.” I swallowed hard. “How ya doin’, bud?”
He snorted. “Only reason you’d call me is because you’re in some shit. So cut the crap and tell me what you need.”
“I fuckin’…I messed up, man.”
“Again?”
“There was eleven of ‘em, and my old lady was watching.”
“You got an old lady?”
“It’s recent. And she ain’t from the life, you know?”
“Shit. She saw it?”
“Yeah.” I growled. Then I paused as I waited for a bunch of traffic to pass. “It was bad, man. Eleven of ‘em.”
“You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Fucker creased my ribs, but nothing some duct tape won’t fix.”
“This wasn’t just fists, then.”
“Had my baton, just because there was so fuckin’ many of ‘em. I tried to keep it from going that way, man. I did.”
I heard him sigh. “I know it.” A pause. “Where?”
I pulled the phone away, put it on speaker, and digitally shared my location with him. “Little dive bar off the freeway. Not sure what it’s even called.”
“Denver area, though.”
“Outside it, yeah.”
“Myles got a show there, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“All right, well, I know some folks. I’ll make some calls, get this taken care of so it don’t blow back on you. With a previous manslaughter on your record, you can’t afford to get made for this.”
