About ten meters away, two hulking men rush towards me, their guns pointed directly at my head. I’ve got a moment to notice the detail on their jackets. They’re not Carnivores. Their patch, with the serpent wrapped around the sword, belongs to the damn Desert Snakes. But I could have sworn I heard Dig’s voice calling out for me back in the bedroom. How else could they have found me if it wasn’t for someone trading our whereabouts in?
One pulls the trigger, but it hits high. He laughs and goes for another shot, but before his shaky hands can pull the trigger, mine snaps first—hitting the target square in the stomach. His friend doubles over, a pool of blood dripping between his legs. Both look towards one another, and they too make a decision. One by one, their guns fire without any direction.
The man with the bullet in his gut calls out to me, “There’s nothing you can do, man! We’ve got you!”
“The hell you do!” I shout as I run towards the second bedroom. I fire again, this time landing right near the second man’s head. I pull myself into the bedroom and slam the door locked. With my good arm, I begin throwing the furniture against the wall and towards the doors. They shoot more bullets through the wood; another round of wasted shots. The men in there have to be either stoned out of their fucking minds or the worst trained gunmen I’ve ever seen. It’s lucky for me that they’re probably both.
What I don’t account for is my shadow along the bedroom window. It alerts whoever the fuck is outside waiting. A hail of bullets from an AK, I suspect, tears through the thin walls and through the glass windows. I throw myself down onto the hardwood, crawling towards the side of the bed knowing it won’t do much if they decide to get any closer. I’ve got no clue which way to aim my gun with the last few bullets still ready to go. The two men at the door are still firing, but the second man is grunting hard and fast, and the unharmed one is throwing himself at the door, trying to push past my barricade of an old oak dresser and two metal side tables.
Another round fires in from the outside and the boys inside the home call out, “What the fuck are you doing? We’re in here! We’ve got the bastard surrounded!” They laugh to themselves. It’s a fucking game to them. The sadistic twits think this is a damn game to be won. I wonder what the prize for my head is. I wonder if they’ll do the same thing to my body as they did the past Carnivores presidents, Vince, and Viper. We’ve only recovered pieces of Vince since that night a few months back when everything changed.
I refuse to let that be me. I refuse to go down without a fight. That’s the Carnivores way. We battle till the end. We look death in the eyes and laugh in its face. These assholes with their weapons aimed square at me have no idea what it is to live with the fire inside of me and the body of my body living in the woman I cared for. Nothing would stamp that out of me, not tonight. Not here.
I stand myself up and fire out towards the crack in the bedroom door. Two bullets. Each one hits their mark before the stoned guardsmen have a fucking clue what is happening to them. The thuds of their bodies and heads smacking against the walls must alert those outside because I hear them call again. But it’s me who answers with vengeance. Two bullets, the last of three in my gun, go off directly out the window towards the man on the motorcycle I cannot see clearly. He fires again, but only once. The bullet nearly misses, but I’m too fucking quick, too determined to end this right here and now.
In my mind, time slows down. There’s only me, the gun, and the man readying to kill me. I cross the gun over my arm and aim towards his head. My arm shakes with the pain and the loss of blood, but I count quietly to myself, “1… 2… 3… FIRE.”
Sirens and lights fill the street behind the body of the man I shot down. I drop the gun towards the ground and throw myself out the small opening of the bedroom and out towards the bathroom. Luckily, Rivet’s not there waiting for me, but an open window above the shower is. I pull myself up and through and onto the bushes before the police are even inside. I dart through the night towards where my bike is parked along the other side of the fence.
Before I take off, I look towards the few homes with their lights on. Faces in the window appear, but none of them belong to Rivet—at least that I can tell. I pull my bike off towards the direction of the club bar, hoping that’s where the rest of the club is getting ready for action. With no sounds of motorcycles in the distance, it should be a quiet ride out of the neighborhood and back to friendlier territory.
Still, my stomach aches at the thought of leaving my girl and my baby behind. Wherever Rivet is hiding, she’s safer there. At least, she’s safer than she could ever be with me.
Chapter Fifteen Rivet
Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.
The gunshots—the darkness—the branches and leaves scraping against my bare legs—everything is running together in this jumble of madness. I can’t find my way out of this damn jungle of a backyard!
With my eyes forward, towards the low security fence, I keep my ears on high alert behind me, scanning like a spy satellite for any signs that Bishop’s alive or dead. Every call, every creak in the floors, every round of fire, I listen for him against the beat of my heart going a mile a minute in my chest. But there’s nothing.
At one point, as I’m pulling myself out of the bush, I think I hear something heavy scrape across the floor, but I can’t be sure. I linger around in hopes that maybe it’s Bishop winning. But as I nearly turn towards the open bathroom window, there’s a burst of sound and chaos. I place my hands over my ears as I sprint off towards the back of the yard. My bare feet drag over the frigid, untrimmed grass hoping not to catch a rock or a hole. I need to get out of here. Now .
When he was ushering me out the window, forcing me to part from him, he was saying something about the neighbors, how the nearest home isn’t too far. No doubt they heard the alarm bells ring—or, more accurately, the gunshots go off. If they had any sense at all, they’d be holed up in a basement hoping to God whoever was after us wouldn’t be coming for them next. But I could see a figure, a woman, standing behind the thin shades looking out towards the home behind me. A little flash of light appears as she pulls back and then retreats inside. I try to flail my arms so she can see me, maybe even be ready to open her doors for me, but she’s gone, and I’m too far into the darkness of the backyard to be seen by anyone.
It is on me to make it to safety without being seen. Once there, I’d call the cops, call the Carnivores, and get out of there before anyone could ask me questions that would lead to Bishop. Trust no one but one of us—that’s what Carnivores believe. Our men protect their own, and they would fight like hell for the men and women who wear the colors of the club and pledge their loyalty to the leadership. But I heard that voice calling out from the other side of the glass to Bishop when the guns first went off.
It sure as hell sounded like Dig.
I somehow manage to make it over the fence. It’s only about five feet tall, but I’m barely a few inches taller than that, and even then, only when I’ve got my heels on. It’s gotta be the adrenaline coursing through my veins, urging me on when every part of me wants to hole up behind a tree and pray it ends soon. Still, I’m no superhero, and the jump does a number on my hands. The cuts from the untreated wood slice through my skin like razors stinging me, drawing blood over and over again. As my feet touch the ground on the other side of the alley, I press the wounds into my dress and hope I’m not leaving a bloody trail of breadcrumbs for someone to find.
The alley is empty, save for a few trash cans and a stray cat that stares at me as if to say that there is nothing to see there. I take its side-eye as a warning and head straight for that light where the woman was. It’s another hop of the fence if I want to avoid going around towards the front and possibly creating a scene, but it’ll be worth it.
The bullets have died down, and the glass shattering is nearly over with, but there’s a motorcycle now, and that can’t belong to Bishop. Will there be more in this ambush? Will they come looking for me when they can
’t find me at the safe house? The Snakes are looking for a girl that was on the back of the bike… I can’t wait to find out what they have in store for me—not with the baby inside of me, depending on me to get us out of here and towards safety.
With a sprint, I make it over the chainlink with a minor clash. The jagged tops of the links caught the bottoms of my feet this time, making it hard for me to stand on the other side of the lawn. I’m forced to crawl towards the back door, on a gravel path and up and over a raised cement patio. Luckily, the screen door in the back is open a smidge, just enough for me to peel it open more with my fingertips. I try not to scream out from the pain in my hands, but it’s impossible to stifle the cry that burns in my throat. I pound on the main door with my elbow and the least bloody part of my palms.
“Please!” I plead, my voice wavering and shaking. “Is anyone there? Please! Let me in! I need help! You have to help me!”
There’s silence—heartbreaking, blood-curdling silence. That woman is in here, I know she is. But does she have the courage to let me in, especially knowing the hell that was going on in the distance? Is she busy barricading the door until the police give the all clear? That’s what I would do in her shoes. I’d be a coward. I’d lock out the person, unknowing if they were armed to the teeth like the people shooting at the unknown neighbor’s suspicious home. Still, I try again and again and again. With each pause, I listen, hoping to hear someone coming for me.
And when I’m about to give up hope and turn around, I hear a small shuffle of feet and someone’s high-pitch voice cry out, “Mommy! There’s someone here!”
“Get away from the door, Alex! Come on! Go back downstairs like I told you and wait until I say it’s okay to come up.”
“But the door…”
“Alex!”
I hear Alex march away; his feet pound in a defiant tantrum. A second after his fades away, I hear more feet coming towards me. They stop at the door before it swings quickly open. I stumble headfirst into the open kitchen, not caring how I look or how hard my head lands on the black and white linoleum.
“Please… please… help me,” I try to squeak out. “I need to call the cops. I need to use your—”
“Rivet?” Her voice stops me dead in my tracks. I lift myself up on my elbows to stare at the blonde, middle-aged woman with the small frown lines creased in her forehead. She’s not wearing a stethoscope around her neck or purple gloves on her hands, but she’s unmistakable.
“Abby?” My voice is as hoarse as ever, making it hard to say anything clearly. “My God, Abby, is it really you? You live here?”
Abby leans down and drags me by the arms the rest of the way inside. Without a word, she closes the door and locks all of the bolts behind her. I try again to use one of her barstools to get to my battered feet, but she stops me and urges me with quiet, confident hands to stay down on the floor.
“Stay here,” she commands as she runs off towards the sink, gathering dishtowels and kitchen utensils as she goes. When she returns to my side, she takes my hands from me and uses a small knife to clean out the gray and white gravel pieces from my open cuts. The warm soapy towel is next, acting as a bandage, though I’m not bleeding anywhere near as much as I was. My feet are the most painful. The wounds are clear, but as she pokes around them, her face becomes more concentrated, more concerned.
“What happened, Rivet?” she asks in a hushed voice. “Where’s Bishop?”
I look over towards the kitchen window as I stumble through saying, “I don’t know. We were in bed, and then someone starting shooting the walls. I think it might be… I don’t know really. It was hell. There were glass and bullets everywhere. And he forced me out of there. I didn’t want to leave him, but he made me escape out the bathroom window. I cut myself on the fences between the houses.”
“Did you fall on your stomach or back?” She looks down at my belly, reminding me of what else I have to worry about. I shake my head knowing that neither of my falls was great for the kid, but I’ve seen women take worse and their baby survive.
Abby nods to herself and replies, “Good. That’s good. I’ve already called the cops, and I sent out word to the Carnivores when I figured something had happened. But you… We need to get you out of here.”
“I can’t leave Bishop. Just let me wait here until the cops are gone, please.”
She shakes her head sadly. “Can’t do it, Rivet. I’m sorry. It’s like I told you earlier: I’ve got somebody else to think about. And as much as I want to protect you, I can’t risk my son’s life. And you can’t risk your child’s life waiting around to see if Bishop makes it or not.”
“Abby—” I try to protest.
“No! Rivet, I’m taking you to the woman’s shelter. There’s one just a mile away from here. They’ll make sure you get to the hospital for a tetanus shot, and they’ll have police protection on you. You just need to tell them you were running from some guy you were dating. They won’t ask any questions after that, and you can stay for as long as you need to.”
“As long as I need to? But, Abby…”
“I know that Bishop is the father. I get that you want to make sure he is okay and that you two can be together, but at what cost, Rivet? You need to get on with your life and get somewhere safe. I know you can—”
We both jump as a voice screams from the other side of the door. “Open up! Let us in there, or we’re gonna shoot this goddamn place down!”
“Oh my God,” Abby whispers, standing slowly to her feet.
“Get down!” I cry towards her, knowing that if he shot, she would be the first thing he hit.
Abby’s steely gray eyes look back down at me and then towards the basement where I can hear the sound of some kid’s TV show playing in the background. She takes off towards that door, shutting it quickly, but before she can move another step, the door pounds again and again. The chains on the door etch deep, woodchopping marks into the frame as the pressure from the foot or shoulder pushes itself against it.
The man screams out another warning, and I begin to crawl on my stomach towards Abby. I’m only a few feet from the door when the gun goes off two times. The bullets fly through the wood towards where Abby stands, protecting her child. I watch her body sink towards the ground, a small splatter of blood where her elbow was now stained the white wood.
“Abby… no!” I try to call out, but someone yanks at my feet, pulling me to him.
“Well, lookie here what I caught…” Dig sneers as he turns me to face him. “Viper’s whore and Bishop’s bitch, thinking she could get away!” He pulls me into his sweaty, smoke-covered body. I feel a cold rush of something ooze against my skin. Was he shot too?
“Where’s Bishop?” I scream as I try to pull away. “What did you do to him?”
“I wouldn’t worry a damn thing about him if I were you, Riv. No, what I would worry about now is what I’ve got in store for you.” His voice curdles my blood, filling me with a nausea that morning sickness couldn’t touch. “Oh, Rivet.” He wheezes. “I’ve been dreaming of this moment since Viper brought your sweet ass in that first day, and now the day’s here. You’re mine, and there’s nothing you can fucking do about it.”
“Yours?” I cry out. “What the hell are you talking about? I’ll never be yours! You repulse me, you fucking slob. And besides, the Carnivores would never allow it!”
He laughs to himself as he manages to scoop me up into his arms. “Who the fuck cares about the Carnivores?” He grins, flashing a disgusting, sarcastic smile that’s missing more than a few teeth. “Come on, Rivet, you’re smarter than this. The Snakes don’t give a shit about Viper, or Vince, or Bishop, or any of the other random fucks you’ve had. But goddamn, when they get a load of that sweet bubbly ass, they’ll have themselves a great time passing you around from man to man… After I get the first go, of course. After all, the President gets first dibs on the fresh meat.”
“Wait,” I say, my voice falling barely above a whisper, “y-you did th
is? You’re working with the Snakes?”
He laughs again, a cruel, almost maniacal sound. “You catch on quick, bitch.” He snarls. “But you’re thinking too small. I’m not ‘working with’ them. I am them. I’ve been with them for a year now, sweetheart. They offered me a deal: I tear the Carnivores club apart, and they make me the leader of the best fucking club in the state. I didn’t know then I’d also get to fuck Viper’s girl too. It’s like the…” He pauses, licking his lips with an air of debauchery. “Cherry on top.”
“I’m not going to let you touch me,” I growl out through my teeth. I try to break away again. My arms slap and punch him as hard as I can muster. But the pain from the cuts and my head pounding screams at me to stop, to slow down.
Over his shoulder and through the open door, I look towards where Abby was. Her body’s gone, but a long trail of blood leads through the basement door.
Dig forces me to look at him, pulling my head up close enough that I can smell just about every cigarette he’s ever smoked.
In a whisper, he answers me, “Who said I needed your permission to take what’s mine?”
HITMAN’S SURPRISE BABY: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance Page 46
