Page 8 of Down & Dirty: Rage

Good.

Time to get some answers for the questions that burned deep within his gut.

At the next crossroad, the fucker took a right.

So did Rage.

He had one shot to do this right. If the Soul knew he was after him and took off, he didn’t think Gabi’s Hyundai would be able to keep up. It could hardly get out of its own way.

She really needed to upgrade her ride.

But that wasn’t his problem. His problem was the biker ahead of him, still upright on two wheels.

Rage considered the direction the Soul was headed and tried to remember what was along that route. He needed to get the motherfucker isolated. Where no fucking eyes, ears, or security cameras were around.

He had no plans on heading back to prison anytime soon.

Or hell, ever.

Twice was more than fucking enough,fuck you very much.

Those two times taught him a hard lesson on being more careful when it came to taking care of business.

Or taking out the fucking trash.

Unfortunately for the Soul riding ahead of him, today was trash day.

When the sled he was following took a turn onto a country road, he could pretty much guess the solo biker was headed down to West Virginia. That meant Rage needed to make sure to catch up to the fucker before crossing the Mason-Dixon line.

Ahead, he saw the perfect spot to have words with the guy: a wooded area along a quiet, winding road out in the boonies.

Rage smashed the Sonata’s gas pedal to the floor. It wastime to move before he was busted tailing him. He pushed that four-cylinder engine as hard as it could go until he caught up with the man cruising along, unaware he was being stalked.

Rage rolled down the passenger side window and moved into the opposite lane so he could pull up next to the bike.

As soon as the Soul’s head turned and he noticed him, Rage jerked the wheel to the right, barely missing the fucker. That made the biker swerve, too. The sled’s rear wheel hit loose gravel, sending the biker skidding sideways.

Probably the same way they made Piper crash. Except in this case, there were no other sleds to take out.

Losing control, the Soul slid off the road and into a ditch, then the asshole went head over boots through the air and landed with a thump that even Rage could hear. He sure as fuck hoped the brush along the side of the road hadn’t cushioned his fall too much.

Rage wasn’t in the mood for a foot chase.

He quickly pulled the cage over and jumped out, rushing back to the fallen Soul.

Before the outlaw biker could even sit up, Rage kicked him in the head, knocking him out. Hard enough to disable him but not enough to kill him. Yet, anyway.

He needed to work fast before any nosy fuckers came along.

Grabbing the downed biker by the boot, Rage dragged his knocked-out ass along the rough, rocky ground and dropped him behind a thicket of tall weeds, a place where no passersby could spot them from the road.

He quickly ripped the bandana free from around the Soul’s face, rolled him over, and used it to secure the man’s wrists behind his back.

With the fear of getting caught making his blood pumprapidly, Rage rushed back to the downed sled, uprighted it, and rolled it to where its owner was taking a temporary nap.

Just as he dumped the sled out of view, the Soul was coming to.

Thank fuck.