Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 73680 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73680 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Crow laughs. “Sure. Go ahead. Take the call. We’ve got all the fucking time in the world, it looks like.”
“Status.” Dad says. A few moments pass, and he nods a couple of times. “Good work.” He slips the phone back into his pocket. “The Cleanup Crew have Nicky. She’s safe.”
He only gets as far as “Nicky” before I drive my heel up behind me. Maybe it’s luck, but it stays true and crunches right up into Crow’s nuts.
“Motherfuck—” he grunts, and for just a moment, his gun wavers. It’s my chance, and I throw myself against his arm trying to break free.
He’s too strong. His grip around my neck is like a steel lock, and I get nowhere.
Not until Crow suddenly stiffens, and his grip on me slackens. The whole room is quiet. No guns went off, but he’s slipping away from me. I push forward and spin, and he lets me go without an ounce of resistance, and when I spin around a few steps away, I see why.
A long knife—Shovelhead’s knife—sticks out of his neck, his blood sliding down the blade of it, even as he begins to collapse. A deep gurgle, or a rattle, sounds from his throat, and then he collapses in a pile.
“Fucking asshole,” Blade hisses. He’s still sitting, still holding my t-shirt to his gut where there’s way, way too much freaking blood, but his head is up and his face is a stark mask of pain and determination. “I knew he’d fucking take the gun away at some point.
“Blade!” I run to him, dropping to my knees and taking his head in my hands. “You’re alive.”
“For now,” he grunts, and it’s obvious from how much weight he’s putting on my hand how weak he is. He can barely hold his head up.
“Help!” I cry, but Alpha’s already there. “I’ve got you. You’re not fucking dying on me now, you cranky, old motherfucker.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Blade hisses.
“Doc!” Dad signals to the back of the crowd of Eagles, and a stocky man Dad’s age, with short, white hair comes running.
“On it.”
And then everything is chaos again, but in a completely different way. Without their leader, the Pit Vipers flee like rats. Our guys chase them down and make sure they don’t cause more trouble, giving Alpha, Ripper and Dad the opportunity to fight over who gets to hug me first.
It ends up being Ripper. He pulls me off my feet and squeezes me so hard I think my stomach is going to come out my ears, but I squeeze him back as hard as I can too. And then his mouth finds mine and we’re kissing like horny teenagers.
“Oh Jesus H. fucking Christ,” Dad groans behind us, but I can’t find it in myself to care. He’s going to have to live with it.
Alpha tears me away from Ripper so he can give me his own hug and a kiss that makes me tingle all the way down to my toes. It’s filled with worry and passion and anger and a very, very clear promise about how he intends to celebrate the fact that we’re all still alive. I wrap my arms around his thick neck and cling to it for dear life. And then Ripper’s at my back, and I’m in a loving biker sandwich that’s missing one guy.
I push away from Alpha long enough to ask, “Blade?”
“Already on his way back to the hospital, with Doc at his side,” says Dad, waiting impatiently next to us with his own shirt held out for me to put on. I laugh and let it fall over my head and nearly down to my knees. “If he can be patched up, he’s going to be fucking patched up. Now, are you too good for a hug from your old man?”
The guys let me go so I can throw myself into Dad’s arms. Doesn’t matter if I’m mad at him or not, I’m so freaking glad he’s safe. “I love you, Dad.”
“You too, honey,” he whispers in my ear.
“Back to the clubhouse?” Alpha asks.
“Fuck yeah.” Dad refuses to let me back down on my feet for the whole walk back to the bikes, and I don’t even mind.
37
FAITH
“How’s it going, lazy?” Ripper grins at Blade and jabs him on the side where he got shot.
Calling him that doesn’t really make sense anymore since Blade’s up and walking just fine now. A little tenderness in his side, he says, which could be anything from an annoyance to blinding agony, knowing what he’s like, but he’s up and walking and that’s way more than we expected nearly watching him die.
“Fuck off.” Blade gives him the finger with both hands.
“Ooh, I see what you fucking did there, you asshole,” says Ripper with a laugh as he drops into the couch next to him and hands him one of the beers trapped between the fingers of his good hand.