“Let me see it!” Kimmi says, reaching out and trying to pry my hands away. I bite my lower lip and close my eyes, fighting the wave of overwhelming nausea and vertigo that's gripped me. I've been shot. It's a surreal thought, to be sure. I wonder what Mother would say? I release my fingers and groan as a wave of biting pain cuts through my arm and swirls straight up to my brain.
“Here,” Tease says, passing over a clean rag and kneeling down next to Kimmi. Christy crawls up beside her and presses her back against the wall next to me. Her blue eyes are wide with fear and dripping with tears.
“I'm okay. I'm alright.” I keep repeating the words, trying to move my hand over to grasp my friend's. My arm refuses to heed my demands and stays stone still while Kimmi and Tease fuss over it. “I'm fine. I'll be okay.”
“You're in shock is what you are,” Kimmi growls, rising up on her knees and peering outside. I turn my head to look and the world spins. I see Triple M'ers in the streets with guns and wrenches and hammers, but I don't hear anymore shots. What happened? Who shot me? I wonder as my head lolls on my shoulders and my chin comes to rest on my chest. “You're lucky,” Kimmi breathes, tying the rag around my arm. “It went straight through.” She looks over her shoulder and stares at the bullet hole in the other wall.
“Who functions as your medic?” Tease asks, scooting over and pushing Christy out of the way, so she can help me up. I groan as Kimmi and Tease heft me up on their shoulders.
“Medic? She needs to get to a hospital!” Christy shouts, stumbling after us as we move out of the room and into the hallway. I focus on the droplets of blood that hit the floor and think absently that they look like the ruby on Mireya's ring.
“Hospitals ask too many questions,” Tease says before Kimmi gets a chance to answer her. “Club business should stay club business.”
“We've got Didi,” Kimmi says as we start down the stairs. “This wouldn't be the first time she's patched up a gunshot. It'll be alright. You got lucky, babe. It could've been a hell of a lot worse.”
Tease and Kimmi take me out back and put me in one of the lawn chairs, setting me down gently. Tease stays behind and covers me with her jacket while Kimmi disappears to find Didi. Christy kneels down in the grass beside me, tears streaming down her face.
“I promise, I'm going to make it through just fine,” I say, trying to calm her down a bit. I feel so strange. The pain has subsided, and the world is fuzzy around the edges. Shock. Yes, I think I'm most certainly in it. I know it's dangerous, but that's about as far as my knowledge extends. Hopefully this Didi will know a bit more than I do.
“Fucking fuckers!” Mireya snarls as she appears in the doorway, coming down the steps with an older woman at her heels. I've been trying my best to remember everyone's faces and names, but I don't know who this is. I imagine she must be Didi.
“Let's see it,” she says, getting down to business by dropping what looks like a toolbox near my feet.
“Did you see who did it?” Kimmi asks, coming back out of the house and pausing with her phone resting in her hand. Her brows are pinched together and her lips turned down in a rare frown. My gaze gets caught on her earrings and can't seem to move away from the glittering green spots. Whiteness eats at the edges of my vision, threatening to knock me out, but I fight against it, struggling to stay awake.
“Nobody did. We thought it might be Broken Dallas or something, but there's no one out there that we can see. God-fucking-damn it.” Mireya spins in a nervous circle and pauses with her attention on the phone in Kimmi's hand. “You didn't text Austin yet, did you?” she asks as Gaine comes out the back doors.
“There's nothing,” he says, spitting at the dirt and pausing with his hands on his hips. “No sign of anybody out there.” He raises his face up and looks at me, skin paling when he sees the redness oozing from my arm. Didi removes the rag and tosses it to the grass, opening her kit and digging around inside. I close my eyes and look away. If I look at whatever she's doing, I'll pass out for sure.
“Enough jaw flappin',” the old woman barks, her voice as rough as leather. “Grab me a pen and some paper. I'm going to make you a list of stuff to go get. And make it quick. We ain't got all day.” I listen to Gaine's footsteps as he moves away at a rapid pace.
“Don't tell Austin or he'll freak the fuck out and run back here. We don't know what he's up to, and we can't risk distracting him.”
“I got it, Mireya. Geez.” I open my eyes and look up to see Kimmi putting away her phone. She glances at Didi and moves a few steps closer, leaning down to peer at the wound again. I keep my gaze averted.
“Got the list,” Gaine says, reappearing and handing it to Didi who scribbles a few things down and thrusts it at his chest.
“Quick, Gaine,” she tells him, and he nods, heading out the back gate. A few seconds later, I hear the sound of a motorcycle starting up.
“Get ready for this, girl,” Didi says, and I make the mistake of looking back at her, finding a curved needle in her calloused hand.
I swallow hard and hear Christy say, “Oh my God. You're not planning on stabbing her with that, are you?” That's the last thing I remember before I pass out.
Chapter 10
Austin
I've got my new Ruger P95 pistol in my hands. It feels nice and sturdy, like I could take down a Goddamn bear with it. Good thing, too, because some of these boys in Broken Dallas are the size of grizzlies.
“This is fucking bullshit,” Beck grumbles under his breath, taking aim with fingers quivering with adrenaline. “Hiding back here like a bunch of pussycats. What does Tax take us for, huh?”
“I think he realizes you're the guy that just banged his sister,” I say, and I hear a bunch of gruff chuckles from the three Triple M'ers standing beside us. “So shut your damn mouth and just be glad he hasn't castrated you yet. We're along on this expedition as guests, Beck. Be grateful Seventy-seven Brothers even bothered to ride down here. If they hadn't, we'd have been up shit creek without a paddle.”
“Hogwash. I coulda took 'em,” Beck says with a grin, taking a peek around the corner. I scoot closer and take a look, too. Tax is nowhere to be seen, but his new Sergeant at arms is standing at the head of the group, hands crossed in front of him. I can't hear what they're saying, but the look on Mr. Silver Beard's face ain't pleasant.
The sun is shining and everything seems all hunky-dory on the surface of things. I have no idea where we are or why we're here, but there's nobody around to complain. We're in a warehouse district, one that's conspicuously empty on this bright sunny day. I don't pretend to know what Broken Dallas is up to, but it seems a little weird, even considering the bad blood between us.
I stay where I am, waiting for this to end with a bunch of posturing and some grunts of acknowledgment. I don't expect violence, not today. That's not the way these things usually go, not at first. But as I'm standing there and watching the wind blow the weeds at my feet, a shot explodes and blood splatters the pavement near the Sergeant's feet. Silver Beard crumples to the cement like a broken doll.
An instant later, the street descends into chaos.
“Hell yeah!” Beck shouts, and I damn hear shoot him in the back when he takes off runnin', heading straight for the action.
“Son of a bitch,” I growl under my breath, reaching around the corner and taking aim. I am so sick of firefights, I could spit. “Mother fucker. Baby Jesus give me strength.” I shoot a man in the thigh when he gets close and nearly jump out of my fuckin' skin when a shot goes off behind me. I spin to find a couple of guys behind us, holding guns and wearing colors that I know all too well. Bested by Crows. When the shit hits the fan, it just splatters, don't it?
I drop to my knee and miss getting shot in the face by a margin so small, it makes my dead grandma sweat in her grave. I take aim at the first man, a guy with bright blonde hair and a face that makes me think maybe he's related to the late Walker brothers. Good riddance, I think as I shoot him right in the chest. No playing aro
und. I don't like to kill, but if it's me or them, then shit, it's going to be them.
My man drops just a split second before the other two do. I glance over at my boys with a determined set to my lips, not quite a smile, not quite a frown.
“Don't get killed, alright?” I ask, rising to my feet and swinging around the side of the building. I hear a small chorus of yes, Pres as I move low to the ground, pausing behind one of Seventy-seven Brothers' bikes. I keep my gun raised and pull my phone out with my other hand, shooting off a text to Tax. He might not get it, but I ain't got a damn clue where he is and somebody needs to know that Bested by Crows is here, too.
Beck is standing straight up, his red hair bright under the sunlight. There's a bit of blood on his lip and a crumpled man at his feet, but otherwise he looks okay to me. I put my phone away and sit up, looking out at a suddenly silent battleground. This doesn't descend into hand-to-hand combat like it did in Korbin when we were fighting Seventy-seven Brothers. Everybody but Beck has taken cover, and all I can see are bikes and bodies.
“Where's that bitch, Margot Tempe?” I hear a voice ask from the front, somebody from our side. “She rightfully belongs to us. Hand her over and accept retribution for the crimes committed against the Brothers. You do that, and we're gone, headed back home.”
Nobody bothers to answer.
The silence stretches long and tight while we wait in tense anticipation.
I happen to glance over and find Melissa smiling at me from behind a nearby bike. I can't even believe Tax let her out here to fight. I shake my head. What am I sayin'? Let her? Nobody lets or doesn't let this woman do a damn thing. She goes about life as she pleases.
“Who's askin' after my ol' lady?” one of the men says, rising to his feet. He's got dark hair and dark eyes, a goatee, and a bad case of overconfidence. He stands out in the open, the perfect target, but nobody shoots him. There's a Code of the Road here, and I know I ain't the only one that believes in it. They might shoot this dude in the head, but they'll wait until after this conversation is over. Fuck my stars.
“I am.”
Tax appears on the top of a nearby building. I get the impression that he's not often seen in public. I know I'm a bit different than most MC Presidents. Usually, you don't see the fuckers. Who puts their leader in harm's way? But my group is small, and this is how we've always done things, so it's the way it's gonna stay. Besides, I'm not the type to sit back and wait.
“Turn her over to us for crimes committed. I count nine of yours dead, including your Sergeant at arms. I'll take that as retribution. Now, hand over Margot and our business is finished here. We're done.” Tax slaps his palms together, dusting them off and holding them open wide. It seems like as fair an offer as anyone's going to get in this situation, and the guy with the goatee looks like he's considering it. Looks bein' the key word, I guess.
Another shot rings out and one of Tax's men shoves him out of the way only to get hit in the shoulder. His body pinwheels over the edge of the building, and it's like a switch has been flicked. More Bested by Crows members spill out from behind the chain link fence at our right, leaving bleeding bodies where Seventy-seven Brothers' sentries were stationed.
“Shit a bitch,” I growl, rising to my feet and holstering my gun, switching it out for the crowbar I stuffed down the back of my damn pants. I hear Beck's battle whoop a split second before my ears go dumb from the sound of so many guns going off around me. Bullets whiz by, but I don't pay 'em much nevermind. Beck's a Goddamn battle axe, but I'm a limber son of a bitch. I don't have to pull any Matrix shit though because these guys are here with a different purpose – to disarm us motherfuckers.
I slam my crowbar into the arm of the first guy that charges me. Call me a pussy if you want, but I don't exactly enjoy the feeling of a weapon crushing a man's skull. I leave that shit to Beck Evans.
Or to Melissa Diamond.
I wonder if she's changed her name? I think as she takes a baseball bat and swings it for a home run. The man I attacked collapses to his knees, bending low with blood streaming down the sides of his face. Melissa doesn't let it end there, and I force myself to turn away. Don't need to see that shit. I push through the crowd, hitting guys out of the way as I go. I'm not exactly a martial arts expert, so I won't be missed much in the melee of things. What I can do is take a wild guess on what's going on here.
I manage to make it to the back of the crowd, moving into an empty space in the back gravel of the parking lot. I look around quickly, trying to get a lay of the land so to speak.
“Where'd they come from?” Tax asks, showing up at my side with a half-dozen guys.
“I'm not sure,” I say, leading the way and ducking under the chain link fence. Tax and his guys follow me, moving across the pavement at a low run. When we come around the corner of a rusted outbuilding, we run into a group of guys I didn't expect.
With motherfucking machine guns.
“Holy shit.” I draw back before they see me and hold out my arm to stop Tax from moving forward. “Holy shit,” I whisper, thinking maybe I underestimated the situation a bit. My guess was that there were some guys waiting in the wings, getting ready to flank us or some shit. What I didn't expect were Goddamn machine guns. I ain't no gun expert, but I think they're M16s.
I gesture back at the fence, and move without waiting to see if Tax is following. I have no plans on getting ripped full of bullet holes. Son of a bitch.
“What?” Tax demands as soon as we're on the other side of the fence, backs pressed against the brick building where I started just a few, agonizing minutes ago. When I thought we might escape without violence. What a fuckin' crock.
“There's a group of guys back there with M16s,” I snap at him, wiping sweat from my forehead. I glance around the corner and notice that the tide has turned. The Bested by Crows members have subtly moved the fight back towards Broken Dallas. Fucking genius. I don't have to tell Tax what I'm thinking. They're going to slaughter us. All of us. Code of the Road? What the fuck was I thinking?
“We need to get out of here,” I tell Tax, but he's already moving away from me. “Where the fuck are you going?” I growl at him, following after his back. He moves around the fence, keeping his voice low when he responds.
“Taking care of business,” he snaps.
My lip curls, but I stay with him, wondering if maybe I might learn something. Tax has been President for awhile now, and I've only ever heard impressive things about Seventy-seven Brothers.
We move around the fence, pausing right about where the men with the fucking machine guns were standing. Tax moves slowly towards the fence and pauses to peek through. I don't know how much he can see. This shit ain't chain link, and the wood is solid. I move up beside him and take a look for myself. The men aren't moving, just standing there. I have no fucking clue what they're waiting for. From what I figure, if they moved in now, they'd have a pretty solid chance of taking out all of Seventy-seven Brothers' men with a few well-placed presses on those triggers. I can't know for sure, but I get the idea that these aren't semi-automatics. I reckon these motherfuckers got theyselves some automatic weapons. Legality ain't an issue here. If it were, we'd all be stock brokers or bank tellers.
I could be wrong, of course. Maybe I'm overreacting? But shoot, then why the hell are these assholes standing around here? Why the fancy ass weapons?
“Is this a massacre?” Tax whispers, stepping back and looking around. It's odd how similar to Tease he is. Same hair, same eyes, same nose. If he wasn't a decade or more older than her, I might think they were twins. Despite everything that's happened, he seems like a good man. “Well, if that's the plan, we're going to change fate.”
We all pause to listen, out of habit I think, but the only sounds are the sounds of battle on the street one over from us. No sirens. Huh.
I sneak another peek through the fence and try to count the number of guys waiting back there, perfectly still, taut with tension. What the fuck are they waiting for
? I don't know how good of an idea it is to wait around and find out.
Amy pops into my head, almost randomly, and I start thinking again about what would happen if I died here today. It's a morbid train of thought that I push back, trying to think only of her perfect face, her sweet lips, her beautiful body. I squeeze my hands into tight fists by my sides. I'd give anything to be back at our clubhouse, paintin' walls and shit, but this is the crap I have to deal with. That I might always have to deal with. I should've let Kent live, I think which is a stupid thought. This is all his fucking fault in the first place. We had a sweet deal going on before.
I try to tell myself I can do this, but it isn't easy. It's hard to march on when you feel inadequate in every Goddamn way possible. Tax is the type of man I should be, but I'm not.
I look around the alley we're standing in and spot a dumpster near the exit to the street. And then I get an idea. It's not a very brilliant one, but I don't see what other choice we got.
“Come on,” I whisper, moving ahead of Tax and his men, pausing next to the rusted green piece of crap and trying to figure out the best way to climb up.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Tax asks. I feel like he's this damn close to charging in there and trying to take those assholes on with his bare hands. I doubt he'd actually go through with it, but it makes me feel better that I have plan that's at least one step away from that desperation. Fuck, maybe we're overreacting anyway, and these guys are just back up? I don't know. But I don't like the way this is looking.
I move around the dumpster and use the building next to it to push my way up, muscles straining as I try to stay silent. I slide up on my belly and scoot across the lid until I'm as close to the fence as possible. If someone were to look this way right now, they might see a hint of my fat ass sticking up above the fence, but fortunately, their attention is on the battle that's still taking place.
Craving Me, Desiring You Page 5
