Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76381 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76381 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
The bullets had stopped.
At least for the moment.
But experience told me that a cease in firing was often a way for the attackers to lure you out, thinking it was safe, then gun you down.
“Wait. We have to wait,” I told Daphne as she tried to move away only to find her sleeve snagged by me.
“Get out of here,” Rune called, sounding winded. “Give me the bike keys,” he demanded as the car suddenly jolted as, I imagined, Sully and Nave shoved Perish inside.
“It’s clear, let’s go,” Sully said, running around the front of the car to jump into the driver’s seat.
That meant I had to drag Daphne up into the backseat, pressing her down into the floorboard again as I squeezed in next to Perish.
The door barely had a chance to close before Sully was peeling off.
The rumble of the bikes followed suit, but Sully had to take a sharp left to avoid ramming into Bon’s car as they fled at the same time.
“Is everyone okay?” I asked, pressing my hands down into the wound on Perish’s upper chest. Too high—I hoped—to be life-threatening at that very moment.
“Phone,” Nave demanded, making me reach for it, getting blood all over it as I passed it to him. “Fallon,” Nave said, tone serious. “Ambush. Yeah. Perish. What do you want… okay. Yeah.”
“Where am I going?” Sully asked.
“The clubhouse. Fallon said he will have Chris send medics from Hailstorm down to deal with the wounds. Is anyone else hit?”
“Hey, Daph, are you hit? Look at me,” I demanded, making her lift her head, her face splotchy with tears, eyes wide with fear. But not, I didn’t think, pain.
“No,” she said, sniffling hard. “You’re bleeding.”
“Where are you hit?” Nave asked, turning in his seat.
“I’m fine. It’s a flesh wound,” I insisted. “We’re gonna get you patched up, man,” I assured Perish as he tried to deep-breathe through the pain.
“Bet some of the club girls would love to get all dressed up and play nursemaid for the next few weeks,” Sully said, keeping his tone light, but in the rearview, I could see the tension in his jaw, the dark look in his eyes. “Sponge baths and all.”
“Easy,” I said, looking down at Daphne.
“Yeah, that’s… gonna take some explanation,” Nave said, shaking his head.
“Were either of the twins hit?” I asked, thinking of how they’d charged into the fire instead of trying to find cover.
“Not Rune,” Sully said. “I didn’t get a look at Croft.
“He’s still on his bike, so he can’t be bad even if he is hit,” Nave said, turning to look out the back window.
The SUV barreled into the lot a few moments later, finding the place fucking filled with bikes and cars.
Nave flew out of the car, rushing toward Fallon to, I imagine, forewarn him about the kid in the backseat.
His head whipped up, tension tightening his features as he nodded at whatever Nave said before he sent several of the guys rushing toward the backseat, opening the door, and pulling out Perish.
“It’s alright, Daph,” I said as she shrank further into herself. “You’re safe here,” I added as I climbed out, then waited for her to do the same, still shaking from head-to-toe.
“You need to get looked at,” Fallon said as I passed.
“I’m fine. Gotta handle… this,” I said, waving at Daphne’s back as she walked ahead of me into the clubhouse.
“Yeah… the fuck?”
“She saw me driving past the ice cream place. Then followed us. If I had time, I’d have sent her away. But the other bikers pulled in. Shit went down too fast.”
“You gonna find a way to explain this to her mother?”
“Don’t see having a choice in the matter.”
Fallon sucked in a deep breath. “Okay. I’ll get the rest of the brief from the others. Go calm down the kid and call her mom.”
When I made my way inside, I found Daphne had sat down on the same couch she had the last time she was here.
“Daph, come in here,” I said, aware of all the men around.
She stood, following me on stiff legs toward the kitchen.
“Do you drink coffee?”
“Yeah.”
With that, I started to make a pot as she sat down at the table.
“Are you going to call my mom?”
“Don’t exactly have a choice,” I said as I grabbed two mugs.
“We… could… not call her.”
Turning, my brow shot up. “What?”
“I don’t want her to know I cut class. You don’t want her to know I got shot at…”
“You got shot around,” I corrected. “Because you cut class and put yourself in danger.”
As much as I would love to not have to tell the already stressed to the max mom of this troublesome teenager that her kid followed me again and could have been shot or killed because of it, I couldn’t let her manipulate me into silence.