His Harley was a road rocket, and it shot forward at his command, Savage and Absinthe using their bikes to provide cover, weaving back and forth as they sped down the road. Ice heard the whine of a bullet as it zipped past him. That thoroughly pissed him off. Soleil leaned into him, tightening her arms and curling her fingers into his jacket. She didn’t panic or try to ask questions. She did what she normally did when she was with him. She gave him her complete trust, her body moving with his and the bike as if born to do so.
Just ahead, around a curve in the road, was a switchback. They knew the road and knew it was there. He gave a hand signal to Savage and Absinthe just before entering the switchback. The moment they were out of sight of the Audi, he slowed the bike and pulled off the road.
“Off, baby, run for the brush.” He had her arm and all but yanked her off the motorcycle. Soleil obeyed him, taking off for the heaviest brush.
Savage and Absinthe were there, bikes down, running with them for either side of the road, weapons out. They’d had seconds to set up. They were used to that, used to moving fast in a fluid situation.
The Audi swept into the switchback. Savage stepped out from the left side of the road and fired directly into the car. Absinthe did the same from the right. Ice had taken up the position just at the very apex of the curve. Savage must have hit the driver. The car went into a slide, and the smell of rubber burning was strong. The car spun and then hit the mountainside hard.
Ice sprinted to the rear door of the Audi, yanking it open, his elbow slamming into the bearded man on the passenger side, knocking him sideways. He pressed the barrel of his gun to the man’s head.
“I’ll fucking end you. Put your weapon down.” At a glance, he could see the driver was dead, slumped over the steering wheel, his foot a dead weight on the brake.
Absinthe had torn open the passenger door behind the front seat. He’d struck the man there a couple of times, ensuring he was dazed as he dragged him out of the car, taking him to the ground on his belly while he searched him for weapons.
Savage had the third passenger out, the shooter from the back seat. Ice had been busy trying to get Soleil out of harm’s way, but it was Savage and Absinthe who had been fired on. Savage wasn’t taking any chances with his prisoner. The man was dragged out of the vehicle and taken to the ground. Savage was rough as he inspected the man for weapons, but he didn’t bother collecting every gun and knife on his person. He left one. Just one, because that was the kind of bastard he could be—and there was Soleil.
“Who are you?” Absinthe asked his prisoner.
Ice dragged the bearded man around the car, uncaring of the rocks and branches that the body bumped over. He threw him down beside Absinthe’s man.
“Ed Charles.” No sooner had he gotten the name out than he began screaming, grabbing his head.
Absinthe smiled grimly. “I can make it hurt worse. You tell me the truth and it all goes away. Your name?”
“Phil. Phil Roberson.” The man took in great gulps of air. There were actual tears in his eyes.
“Why did you attack us, Phil?” Absinthe continued.
“Don’t you answer him,” Savage’s prisoner snarled.
Savage instantly retaliated, his gloved fist smashing into the man’s mouth over and over, breaking teeth and driving them back into his mouth, nearly pushing them down his throat. Blood sprayed and then ran down his chin and throat.
“Go ahead, Phil,” Savage said. “You’re going to want to answer the question.” He spoke calmly, matter-of-factly, as if he hadn’t just destroyed a man’s face.
Phil looked horrified. “If I answer—” He broke off screaming, grabbing at his head.
“If you choose not to answer or you lie, your head is going to hurt like that, Phil,” Absinthe said, sounding perfectly reasonable. “And it will get worse.”
“The girl. We’re after the girl.”
Ice stiffened and glanced across the open space to the brush where Soleil stood watching, a distance away. He didn’t like her seeing what they were doing; on the other hand, they needed the information they were quickly extracting. He needed the information. These men were after Soleil. They had to be fast and then get out of there.
“How did you find her?” Absinthe asked.
“Winston remembered the club at the motel. She was seen going into a biker bar. A biker gave her up.”
“Name and club of the biker.” Absinthe nearly spat the demand.
“Fred something. His club was Venomous.”
Ice remembered them partying at the bar that night. He didn’t remember Fred. Of course Fred had noticed Soleil. When she’d walked into the bar, everyone had gone silent and turned toward the door in shock. Ice filed the name of the biker away. They’d come back with Soleil in her wedding gown. She’d looked like a princess and she’d been memorable.