Rivals 🌈 ✔

64 - Thieves

I can't believe it's been five months since I updated this story! I'm so sorry. I wasn't sure how to continue the story because I'm an organic writer who hadn't thought of a Raine rescue plan. :') I also had some other writing deadlines I needed to fix for my paperbacks. Buuut I'm back. :) 

. . . 

They'd parked the pickup as close to the fence as possible, with the cargo area toward the back so they could fill it right away. With slightly tense shoulders, Ezra watched his brother grab a cable cutter and walk with it to the fence, where he cut the large chain in half. Ezra held his breath as the thing tinkled and fell down. He cast a skittish glance over his shoulder, even though Ezra knew full well that no one would come into this remote area. Not this late.

As the moonlight shone down on them, the two brothers pushed open the gate. Like two shadows, they parted, each heading for a different side of the junkyard. Out of reach of the large lighting poles, Ezra searched the ground, looking for the place where the copper was collected.

Copper thief was not exactly his dream job, but right now he was glad his brother was not coming up with something even more illegal. If they were caught, they would only get a fine. At least they wouldn't have to go to prison—which Jacob had just left. It was better than the scene he came from and if participating in this foolish adventure kept him from going back to The Thorns then Ezra wouldn't complain. Besides, stealing from a trash pile weighed less on his conscience than stealing manhole covers or destroying cell phone towers and phone lines. At least it didn't injure or inconvenience countless people. 

With a flashlight, he shone over the mess. Junk, all junk. Hurriedly he walked on until at last, he saw piles of loose cables. Immediately he quickened his pace. Got it!  He lifted up as many cables as he could and whistled a shrill tone to let his brother know he'd found the good stuff. With the first load in his arms, he waited for his brother to help him carry the wires to the truck. Suddenly his gaze fell on an oblong shape, a little to his right, between a broken lamp and a collapsed old chair. 

"What the fuck," Ezra muttered. That looked an awful lot like a body. No man. It's probably just a mannequin. Or one of those sex dolls. 

Still, his heart beat on with heavy thumps as Ezra moved toward the silhouette. He shifted the thick cables to his left arm so that he could use the other to retrieve the flashlight from his pocket. His hand trembled as he flicked it on and let the beam of light pass over the dark form. The head was turned away from him, but Ezra immediately saw that blood clotted in the short hair. 

Ezra quickened his pace and crouched down beside the body. Carefully he rolled it onto its back. Please, don't be dead. Don't be fucking dead. An ice-cold shiver slid through his body as he saw how beaten up the man was. It felt almost selfish to hope that the man wasn't dead. Yet Ezra heard a labored, wheezing breath. 

In an awkward reassuring gesture, Ezra placed his hand on the victim's shoulder. The thought that someone had dumped him here like garbage made his blood freeze. What kind of sick person you had to be then!

"Jacob!" he called over his shoulder. "Someone's here!"

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his brother approaching. In his hands he held a large object—a water heater or perhaps the radiator of a car, he couldn't make it out in the dark.

"Leave that mess!" Ezra snapped, who himself had let the cables slide to the ground.

Breathing heavily, his brother crouched down beside him. A curse slipped his lips. "He's as good as dead."

"He needs to go to the hospital."

The lack of response made Ezra's neck hairs stand up. Threateningly, he looked at his brother—if he believed those few pennies were more important than saving someone's life, he'd punch him in the face.

"They don't just dump someone here," Jacob hummed.

Ezra didn't care. His hand still rested on the man's shoulder, who let out a soft moan from time to time. Any moment, life seemed to be about to slip away from him and Ezra wasn't going to wait for that moment. "Come on, we'll carry him to the car and take him to the hospital."

Moving the guy was life-threatening, of course, but it would also raise an awful lot of questions if they sent an ambulance here now. He did not want his brother to go back to jail.

Fortunately, Jacob did not doubt any longer. Carefully they picked up the battered man and carried him off the terrain. Clumsily, they slid him into the back seat, where blood stains were immediately left on the leather. Nauseated, Ezra turned his head away. He slammed the door shut and rushed into the driver's seat, then started the car. Before his brother was well and truly seated next to him, he sped off. 

"He's wearing a kutte," Jacob muttered, looking over his shoulder at the back seat.

"A what?

"He belongs to a motor club."

"Then they must be glad we rescued him," Ezra hummed.

"Or not at all. Suppose it was retaliation, or maybe he was a traitor."

Ezra shrugged. He didn't care what the man had done—something they could only guess at. He was hurt and he needed medical attention, that was all that mattered.

And so, Ezra took him to the hospital. And if it caused them shit, then they'd deal with that later.

Out of the corner of his eye, he looked at his brother. It wasn't as if he'd never taken risks for him.

. . .

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