Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 114819 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 574(@200wpm)___ 459(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114819 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 574(@200wpm)___ 459(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
“You’re shot,” Trace shouted.
No. He hadn’t made it to Dev in time. Pain burst his heart wide open. The one person he had sworn to protect, he failed. Cash locked his thighs around Dev’s waist when he tried to rise. There was no outcome that allowed Dev to move until they knew his injuries, knew the threat against him had been contained, and an ambulance was on its way.
“Where’s he shot?” Adrenaline pumped through Cash’s veins as his hand slid over Dev’s chest, trying to find the wound.
An instinctual, frantic-filled training took over. He had to find the wound, apply pressure until an ambulance arrived.
“Call 911,” Cash yelled.
“I’m not fuckin’ shot. Get the fuck off me,” Dev yelled and used all his force to push Cash off. “How could I be shot with you goons all over me? You fuckin’ let them get away.”
Mitch, flanked by two other men, ran from the street into the parking lot. Cash looked over his shoulder to see Kreed already bent over the lifeless bodies of the brothers several feet away.
The attack had only taken moments, maybe a minute, but those few seconds had felt like they had fought a long, hard battle for hours.
Trace got to his feet. The bodyguard was angry, his fists tightened. “Devilman, for the love of whatever you love, stay the fuck down. If they were after you, we need them to think they got you too. Listen to me this time.” Trace’s warning came as he bent, tugging at Cash’s shirt until his body moved with the hold. “You got a flesh wound. I thought you took a bullet.”
“You good?” Mitch shouted, pausing over them, his steely gaze quickly assessing the situation.
“Yeah,” Trace said, taking a better look at Cash’s arm.
“Stay down,” Cash reinforced to Dev.
If Trace had Dev, then Cash needed to offer aid to the others.
“Fuck that. We gotta go after ’em,” Dev shouted, fighting like a wild man to get up. Trace rammed his booted foot against Dev’s shoulder, keeping him in place.
“Did you not see that fire power?” Cash holstered his weapon then pushed off Dev’s body to get to his feet. “You can’t take them on by yourself. Stay down.”
“I ain’t scared of shit. They have to pay. Let me fuckin’ go,” Dev bellowed, but his tone changed about halfway through the rant. Reason replaced the unreasonableness that was always associated with Dev. “Then go check on my fuckin’ brothers,” Dev yelled and kicked his feet and arms against the ground like a toddler. “Goddammit.”
Police cars began to pour into the parking lot, one right after another. An ambulance popped the curb to pull in between the two police cruisers and parked feet away from Dev.
The scene switched from active to investigatory. Police sirens droned in the distance, hopefully following the shooters.
EMTs jumped out of the ambulance and headed straight for the bloodbath of the brothers at the front of the building.
Cash hadn’t gotten much farther than a few feet toward Kreed and Mitch before taking in the complete carnage. The violence was abrupt, swift, and complete.
Mitch backed away to let the police secure the scene for the EMTs to administer care. His hands were raised, and his private security credentials hung from his neck. Kreed followed Mitch’s lead, except he continued to bark orders to the police.
Mitch started toward Cash, but swung his attention to Dev. The gravity of the stare said it all.
“Goddammit!” Dev yelled. “Where’s my goddamn phone? I need to warn my mother and Keyes. Where’re my girls?”
Cash let Trace deal with Dev as his own professional logic and duty to his job slipped past his overwhelming need to protect Dev. “What do we know?”
“It was fast,” Mitch started. “Late model black sedan pulled over on this side of the road. Four people jumped out, didn’t pause, and issued a volley of gunfire directly at what we assume was their intended target. I was reading an email from your superior when it started.”
“What visuals do we have?” Cash asked, looking toward the road where the shots were fired.
He noticed the shrubbery was pruned at the fence line.
No matter how Lily played it, the government had to know something about the attack if the tree line had been cleared away.
“We have video. Aaron’s hitting the streetlights, trying to follow the vehicle, but this area doesn’t have many cameras. I’ll handle the police,” Mitch explained, using his hands as he spoke, pointing this way and that. “Aaron’s in my ear, saying the ambo pulling up now is transporting you and Dev to the hospital. Trace will ride with you. You gotta keep Dev down.”
With a single nod, he pivoted on his heel back to Dev. The EMTs were already in action, pulling the wheeled stretcher from the back.
Cash also suspected those responsible got their intended targets. Dev was safe, but he wasn’t going to go quietly. His biker was hanging on by a thread. A toddler had nothing on the tantrum Dev was giving. “Check on the detail stationed with his mom and the girls,” he called over his shoulder to Mitch.