He hooks his fingers into my waistband and tugs me toward him. I half expect him to pull me into a kiss, but Rebel won’t do that. Not here in front of the clubhouse, or my cousin.
“Stay inside tonight. Don’t go back to the bar.”
“You think because you bought me Mexican food you can order me around?”
“I think you like it when I order you around.”
“Don’t even try to pretend you don’t like it when I do it too.”
“Fuck,” he shakes his head and leans back.
“Not happening,” I smirk and step away.
He grumbles about being cockblocked, and turns the bike toward the building beside the clubhouse.
The roar of more bikes makes him pause, he doesn’t want to cross in front of them as they draw near. Marisol waves at me, so I head toward them.
“Kinsley!”
Rebel’s yell shocks me enough to whirl around, as the two bikes race towards him, they’re not slowing down. He jumps off his, not caring that it falls to the ground. He’s running toward me before I hear the popping sounds. Someone screams and we go down in a pile of limbs and Rebel yelling again. He rolls to the side so he doesn’t crush me, but he has his back to the bikes that are now racing away.
“What the hell?” I shake my head, trying to understand what happened. There is more noise, voices yelling, more bikes starting up.
Rebel glances behind him, then shifts a little, running a hand down my body.
“Are you hurt?”
“Besides you landing on me. No… What was that?”
His face is a mask of pure rage. “Are you sure you’re not hurt?”
“No, I don’t think so. Were those gunshots?”
He sits up and helps me. “You need to get inside. Now.”
I nod, and he helps me up. That’s when I see them over his shoulder.
Colt and Marisol.
Both lying on the ground, both still, with blood running down the steps of the church.
Chapter Twenty
Rebel
Kinsley lets out a scream of such anguish at first I’m not sure what is wrong.
Did she get shot? I’ll fucking kill the bastards if she’s hurt. I’ll kill them anyway. They were riding straight at me, not slowing down. That was the first warning something was up. Then one of them reached inside his jacket, I had just enough time to see the other man already held up a gun before instinct kicked in.
I hadn’t cared about anything other than protecting her.
Fuck my bike, fuck everything else. All I could think about was protecting Kinsley.
She’s fighting to get out of my arms, and I tug her back, not sure we are out of danger yet, even as my brothers spill out of the clubhouse, alerted by the gunshots.
“Colton!” Kinsley screams and kicks and hits out enough that I lose my grip on her.
She runs away from me, and I finally see why.
