Hunted (Steel Kings MC Book 4)

by Jamie Garrett

  Rachel nodded. Her eyes were wide still, her entire body shaking. The poor woman was terrified, but there wasn’t anything Griffin could do about that. It was better for her to be scared than dead.

  He kissed her, pressing their lips tight together. He wasn’t shaking like she was, but his heart was thundering. A shootout was not something you got used to. Doesn’t matter what anyone said. Doesn’t matter how much training you’ve got. A bullet is still lethal, and there’s always a chance you’re gonna take one to the wrong place.

  For Rachel, though, he would do what he needed to.

  “Hannah, come here,” he ordered. When he turned, Hannah was still standing, growling by the main door. He called for her again, and she looked over at him but didn’t budge from the spot. Griffin let out a sigh, then shrugged. “Sorry,” he said to Rachel. She was going to be terrified, locked in the bathroom alone, but he wasn’t going to force the dog into there. They didn’t have time. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.” Rachel looked up into his eyes, making his heart skip a beat. She was terrified, but she wasn’t crying. Not this time. She had a firm grip on the gun, too. Rachel was done running, and so was he.

  He locked the bathroom door, then crept over to the main bedroom door and peered out. A group of the Jokers came around the corner at that moment, and Griffin raised his gun. He fired off four shots, two at each of the two guys in the front. The bullets slammed into them before they even noticed he was there. Seconds later, the ones following them fired their own volley of shots.

  Griffin ducked back into the room just narrowly avoiding getting shot. It was a damned good thing none of them had a chance to take proper aim. There were far more of them than Griffin had expected. The fuckers must’ve been watching them. He wasn’t sure how they’d found out about the warehouse that quickly, but it didn’t matter. They were there, and he was in need of some serious backup.

  Reaching around the door frame, he fired two more shots, hoping to slow them down as he slid his phone out of his pocket. A single press was all it took to send the SOS out to the crew, and he tossed the phone aside. It’d done its job. Now he just needed to hold out until the rest of the guys got there. From the hail of gunshots that came his way, the chances of that were pretty slim.

  He gritted his teeth. No way in hell was he going to give up. He peeked around the doorway and saw the group heading toward him. Gabriel was there, in the middle of them. He fired in that direction but didn’t have a chance to aim. He barely got a single shot off before the Jokers shot at him again.

  Griffin kicked the door closed, locking it, then moved to the other side of the room. The place wasn’t nearly as secure as he’d have liked it to have been. It was meant to hide from their enemies, not to resist a siege. At this rate, they’d have been better off at the clubhouse. At least that place would’ve been more defensible.

  He’d just ducked behind the bed when the door flew open. The doorframe shattered, not meant to withstand the force of a man kicking it in. If he survived this, he was going to have a long talk with Vlad about the proper way to build a safehouse. He didn’t care how remote the place was. Sturdy locks and reinforced door frames were going to be installed on each and every one of them.

  The next two shots he fired blindly over the top of the bed. He didn’t need to aim since they were all clustered around the door as they made their way in. He hit at least one of them, hearing the man groan before he dropped to the ground. Before he could shoot again, the Jokers returned fire. Griffin curled up into a ball, praying for some miracle.

  His prayers were answered in the form of gunshots coming from outside the room. The Jokers scattered for cover as Griffin grinned. Whatever trap they’d set out front obviously hadn’t worked. And while the odds were still shit, at least he had Padre out there watching his back. When the Jokers returned fire against Padre, Griffin chanced a peek out. He couldn’t make out Padre’s exact location, but it looked like they had the invaders pinned between the two of them.

  That was about as good as the odds were going to get as Griffin fired another couple shots, taking one of the Jokers in the back as he focused on Padre. The Jokers didn’t have Merc drilling them through combat practice. They’d have a tough time handling a fight on two sides.

  Hannah rushed forward, leaping into the air. Her jaw clamped down on a man’s arm. While that guy was distracted with her, Griffin aimed and fired two shots, dropping the man to the ground. Hannah immediately lunged toward another, who’d been leaning outside the room to aim at Padre. The man hadn’t seen Hannah coming, and before he could react, Griffin shot him in the back.

  When the men turned to see what was going on, Padre took his chance, dropping two more in quick succession. He may have been the closest thing the Kings had to a priest, but the man could still shoot.

  Slowly, Griffin, Padre, and Hannah worked together, whittling away at the Jokers. But the bastards must have brought their entire crew to the fight, and it wasn’t long before Griffin was getting low on ammo. They’d brought their supply locker, but it was out in the other room. Padre might’ve been able to get to it and restock, but Griffin couldn’t. He would have to pray that what he had was enough.

  31

  Rachel

  Rachel trembled as she held the gun. Each time a gunshot rang out, she jumped. How had Griffin been able to stay so calm about everything? Rachel had never been this terrified. This had to be the end of it all. She wanted to be out there with Griffin at least, fighting against whoever had come for her. She was tired of running, tired of letting Griffin and the others fight her battles for her.

  She was tired of everything.

  She just wanted it all to be over. How much more of the constant chaos could she take? This was not the life she’d signed up for when she’d married Gabriel. She’d signed up for mimosas and fancy dinners. She’d signed up for tropical vacations, maids to clean the house. How had things gone so far from the dream she’d had as a little girl?

  She gripped the gun tighter as another round of gunfire echoed through the warehouse. Some of them were louder than the others, like they were right outside the door. Was it Griffin out there, fighting to keep her safe? Locked in the bathroom, she had no idea what was going on. Was it just Griffin and Padre out there? Or had some of the others gotten back to help?

  And how many of the Jokers were there? With the number of gunshots, it sounded like a lot of them. If the Kings hadn’t gotten back, how long could Padre and Griffin hold out on their own?

  She stared at the gun in her hands. It was smaller than the one Griffin had taken with him, able to fit comfortably in her hands. Should she ignore Griffin’s orders to stay locked in the bathroom? Wouldn’t she be more useful out there?

  Could she be more useful out there? She’d never fired a gun in her life, never even held one. How much help could she possibly be? Griffin had said to just point the gun and squeeze the trigger, but there had to be more to it than that, right? It couldn’t be that simple.

  Tears slid down her cheeks. She didn’t dare move to wipe them away, not with the gunfight going on just outside the bathroom door. She expected someone to come barreling through it at any second. Would it be Gabriel? Or someone else?

  She wanted to believe it would be Griffin, but she didn’t dare get her hopes up.

  Briefly, she wondered if she’d even be able to fire when the time came. Griffin had told her to keep her finger off the trigger unless she was ready to shoot someone. Would she ever be ready for that? Shooting someone meant killing them, at least in her book. Could she really kill someone?

  She wasn’t a biker, used to this kind of violence. She’d been raised to be a housewife, taking care of hiring the household staff, raising future kids. That was the life she’d inherited from her mother. Now she’d been thrust into a whole new world, one she wasn’t quite sure she’d be able to cope with.

  Another round of gunshots made her jump and wince. Her hands continued to shake, th
e gun practically vibrating as she fought to keep control of it. Shit, at this rate she wouldn’t be able to hit anything she aimed at anyway. You needed a steady hand to be able to shoot a gun, didn’t you? She was pretty sure that was true, even though she’d learned it from TV. It made sense, anyway.

  A sharp pain in her stomach knocked the wind from her lungs. She squeezed her eyes shut and took deep breaths. The pain brought her back to reality, reminded her why she was in the bathroom and not out there helping Griffin. Griffin and Padre and all the other Kings were working to keep her safe. It was her job to keep the baby safe.

  For her daughter, she could pull the trigger. For her daughter, she would do anything. If she had to kill Gabriel or one of the Jokers to make sure her daughter was safe, then that was what she’d do. She’d never forget it if she killed a man, but she was willing to live with that. The consequences would be well worth it in her book.

  The tears stopped falling as she squared her shoulders. She watched the door intently, waiting, listening. A renewed determination filled her. Her hands were steadier, the gun no longer bouncing all over the place. She could do this. Over and over she repeated the words in her mind, steeling her resolve.

  All she had to do was keep thinking of the baby. As long as she kept the baby firmly in her mind, she wouldn’t waver again.

  32

  Griffin

  “Fuck damn!” Griffin yelled as he dropped back behind the bed. He and Padre had taken care of a good number of the Jokers, but Griffin only had a couple more shots left. Not nearly enough to take care of the remaining assailants. He just had to hope Padre had enough to even the playing field a bit. Otherwise, they would all be dead long before the rest of the Kings could show up.

  Bullets embedded themselves into the wall just above his head. How much longer could he last?

  A sharp canine squeal ripped through the room. Risking a glance, he peeked up over the bed. Hannah lay on the ground at the foot of one of the Jokers. At first, Griffin had feared the worst. There wasn’t a pool of red beneath her, though, and she was still breathing. They’d hit her but hadn’t killed her, thank God.

  He fired off a shot at the man he was sure had hit her, the bullet slamming into the guy’s shoulder. The man cursed but didn’t fall. Instead, he raised his own gun and nearly shot Griffin as he dove back behind his cover. He dropped the clip from his gun, then swore as he counted his remaining shots. Why hadn’t he taken the precaution to stash some extra ammo in the bedroom? If he’d been thinking, he’d have made sure there were guns and ammo hidden all around this place.

  But he’d gotten complacent. He’d assumed they’d be safe at the warehouse, at least for now. They’d never used the place before, and it should’ve taken the Jokers at least a couple days to track them down. He’d let his guard down, and now that was going to get him killed.

  The best bet would be for him and Padre to take out as many of the Jokers as possible. Rachel still had the gun he’d given her. If they took out enough of them, Rachel could take out the rest when they inevitably went after her. It wasn’t the best plan he’d ever come up with, but it was the only hope he had. It wasn’t like extra bullets were going to start raining down from the sky.

  Griffin closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He could see Rachel clearly in his mind. Her smile gave him the courage he needed to keep going. The odds were against him, but he didn’t care. For Rachel, he was damn sure going to try. He wasn’t going to give up until he closed his eyes for good.

  Shots rang out again, and Griffin’s eyes flew open. The moment they’d stopped firing, he peeked up over the bed and picked his targets. First, he took out the man who’d hit Hannah, then he put another bullet into the guy right next to him. Just before he dove back down, he watched in horror as one of the others took aim and fired, a bullet hitting Padre in the shoulder.

  Griffin let out a long string of curses as he took cover again. It didn’t look like the shot had been enough to kill Padre, but it would’ve been enough to take him out of the fight. That left Griffin alone, with only a couple bullets left. So much for his plan to take out as many of them as possible.

  He wasn’t sure exactly how many were left, but he knew it would be more than Rachel could handle. She wasn’t a soldier, wasn’t trained in how to pick and choose her shots quickly and efficiently. She could’ve taken out a couple, but it wouldn’t be enough.

  Their footsteps were impossibly loud, echoing across the entire warehouse. Griffin tried to count them, but his mind was all over the place as it tried to grasp a single option that would save them. When none of them came to mind, he closed his eyes again, picturing Rachel once more.

  His life didn’t matter. He was more than willing to trade his life for Rachel’s. If he made a dive for it, perhaps he could get one of the guns from the Jokers he’d killed. It was a suicidal move, but it was the only thing he had left. For Rachel, he would take the chance. He had to.

  Mouth drawn into a tight line, he shifted, moving to the very edge of the bed, peering around it. There were at least three or four men already at the doorway. He would have to move quickly, take them by surprise, if he wanted any chance of his plan working. He had to choose his target carefully, dive for it, then fire as many rounds as he could into the group before they were able to react.

  He sucked in a breath, then moved. He was halfway to the closest gun when a single shot rang out. The bullet slammed into his chest, knocking him backward, as the intense pain knocked the air from his lungs. Griffin’s vision went blurry. He tried to curse, but his mouth went dry.

  It was all he could do to keep breathing as Gabriel walked forward, grinning down at him. The man still had his gun in hand but he didn’t even bother pointing it at Griffin. The fucker had somehow anticipated his move and been waiting for him. Had he somehow kept track of how many shots Griffin had gotten off? Or was it just a lucky guess?

  Either way, he’d won. Somehow, he’d gotten the upper hand on them. They’d thought they were two steps ahead of Gabriel and his lackeys. God, how had they been so wrong? How had they let Gabriel pull the wool over their eyes like that?

  He’d promised Rachel he would protect her. He’d told her Gabriel would never be able to hurt her again. Now, he wouldn’t be able to keep that promise. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t even lift his hand to shoot Gabriel. The man was only a few feet away, and he couldn’t do that one last thing.

  God damn it.

  Gabriel smirked at him. It didn’t matter how many of his lackeys were lying dead around him. He’d won, and he knew it. Griffin had wanted the man dead more than anything else, but he couldn’t imagine being happy about having sacrificed so many of his brothers to see his goal accomplished. How could Gabriel stand there so casually as people around him died? Did he really not care about them at all? Was he really that cold blooded?

  He didn’t even need to ask the questions to know their answers. Gabriel was all of that and more. It wasn’t even that he didn’t care about the Jokers. He didn’t care about anyone. The only person in the world who mattered was himself. The only reason he wanted Rachel back was because she’d made him look bad by defying him like that. He wasn’t angry she’d found someone else. Didn’t even care that she had never loved him. He’d certainly never loved her. She was just another pawn in his game, one that had upset the balance.

  That couldn’t be allowed to happen.

  No matter what it cost, Gabriel seemed determined to get his revenge. He would make Rachel and everyone connected to her suffer. Griffin knew all of that just from looking up into Gabriel’s cold eyes. There wasn’t even an ounce of humanity behind those eyes. He was just another sociopath, eager to get back to climbing his way up in the world.

  Griffin needed to stop him. Somehow, he needed to kill Gabriel before he got to Rachel. He couldn’t even imagine all the things Gabriel would do to Rachel before he killed her, and he didn’t want to find out.

  Reaching deep inside himself, he t
ried to find the strength he needed. Taking slow, deep, breaths, he tried to raise his right hand, to bring the gun level with Gabriel. He only needed a couple seconds, only needed a single shot. If Gabriel was out of the picture, the Jokers would leave Rachel alone. She was meaningless to them. They’d only risked so much because of Gabriel.

  No matter how hard he tried, his arm wouldn’t move. The searing pain going through his chest was too much, and the world faded in and out. He wasn’t even going to be able to maintain consciousness much longer. There was no way he’d be able to shoot Gabriel before he got to Rachel.

  He’d lost.

  Gabriel didn’t even bother to finish the job. He could’ve easily put a bullet between Griffin’s eyes and been done with it, but he just shook his head, still grinning, and walked past him. A swift death would’ve been too much of a mercy for Gabriel to dole out. Instead, he would leave Griffin lying there, drifting in and out of consciousness. Griffin would be forced to listen as he confronted Rachel, maybe even killed her.

  All Griff could do was hope Rachel killed him first. She still had the gun in her hand. There was only one way into the room she was hiding in. Point and shoot, he repeated over and over inside his mind. He willed Rachel to remember what he’d told her. All she had to do was point and shoot, and her problems would be over.

  The Jokers would be angry about her killing Gabriel, but maybe they’d just shrug it off. Maybe they’d be thankful to be rid of the man who was pulling their strings. Or they could turn vindictive, want to punish Rachel for cutting off a major source of their funds. It was about a fifty-fifty shot, and those were the best odds he’d seen since the Jokers had come down that alleyway.