Always Crew - Tijan Page 0,67
movement from inside. The windows were boarded up.
Shetland was behind me, running in from his truck parked on the street.
Brock was closest to the door, and he glanced back. His eyebrows raised. Was I ready?
I nodded back, and his eyebrows lowered. A firm look was in place, and he pounded on the door. “Bail Bonds Enforcement! Open your door!”
There was no movement, no answer.
He kept hitting the door. “Open up! OPEN THE DOOR!”
More knocking.
More pounding.
Shetland started tapping the side of the garage with his stick.
“There’s nothing back here. They’re either not home or hoping to wait us out,” came from Hawk over the radio.
Brock reached for his radio. “Is Gramps on the radio?”
Crackle. “I’m here.”
“What was the vehicle that we were told this bail jump is driving?”
Crackle. “A red truck. Old. Broken down.”
“License plate?”
Gramps read the number.
Brock nodded at Shetland. “Can you check?”
“That’s a white truck.”
“Check anyway. We might’ve got the wrong color told to us.”
Shetland moved back, and Brock glanced at me. His finger lifted from the radio. “You doing okay?”
Was I doing okay?
My heart was pounding. Palms were sweaty. Knees were locked, but I wanted this. I was a bull in the gate, waiting to be released into the field. Hell yeah, I was okay. I flashed him a smile. “I’m fine.”
He narrowed his eyes, giving me a second study before Shetland came up. “Yeah. It’s the same plates. They must’ve switched the plates on us.”
Brock swore, then pushed on his radio. “The white truck is the vehicle—”
Shetland’s phone lit up. He read the screen, then lifted it for us to read.
Hawk: I need the radio.
Brock lifted his finger.
Cackle. “This is Hawk.”
Brock replied, “Go, Hawk.” “We’ve got movement back here. They’re trying to sneak out. Patio door opened. He’s running around the side of the house. To the west—”
Brock and Shetland shot for the west side, darting to meet him around the end.
I held back. This didn’t seem right. If he knew to switch the truck, switch the plates, sneak out of his patio door, then it would make sense that he’d know his house was surrounded. Unless…just as I realized what was happening, the garage door behind me burst open.
A body shot out, barreling into me.
Pain slammed through me, slicing everywhere.
I hit the sidewalk pavement, and my hand was embedded in shrubbery.
Feeling my skin being pierced all over, I growled. No! That was my first thought as I looked up and saw the guy look down at me. It was the bail jumper. He was a big fucker, and no way was he getting away that easily.
Just then, I heard shouting from the distance. Vehicles were screeching to a halt somewhere, but I was focused only on this guy. He paused, staring at me.
In that moment, it was him and me, and he saw me. He saw my fight. He saw my anger.
His eyes flared, too. He wanted to hurt me, and his knee jerked up. But he caught himself. He was going to kick me or squash me with his foot, one or the other, but I was already getting to my feet and running after him.
He tore out of there, heading past his truck because he was blocked in by another vehicle.
I knew that vehicle. Recognition flared in the back of my head, and I knew who had just joined our fight. My brother and Moose were jumping out of their truck. Moose was heading to block the guy. Channing was behind him. They were going to trap him, and then someone else would take him down.
No. No. No.
This guy was mine—and I screamed as Moose started to lift his arm up to knock the guy down, “NO!”
Moose paused, seeing me hurtling after him, and he moved aside.
The stall helped. I saw it all in a split second, and my plan was already laid out in my mind.
The guy was tearing past Channing, tearing past Moose. He was heading for the street, and he was going to try getting away on foot, but he heard my scream. He saw Moose and he paused, too.
It was just enough.
I threw myself at him, pushing off the street with everything in me. I wrapped around his knees, tripping the guy. As he fell, I was already climbing up him, grabbing his arm, twisting my body around his neck, and as my back hit the road, I yanked as hard as I could. My legs wound around his neck and I had him trapped in place. If he pushed