Page 7 of Vengeance

Bowie's hand tightened around the grip of his pistol. "Whose colors?"

The kid shook his head. "They aren't wearing any." Every instinct Chloe possessed screamed that something was wrong. Vengeance stood so fast his stool crashed onto the floor behind him.

"Get everyone away from the windows,” Vengeance ordered.

Bowie glared at him. "The hell I will."

"You have five seconds,” Vengeance shouted. Something in his voice made even the toughest Bastards pause. It wasn't panic, but certainty. "They're early," he muttered. "They weren't supposed to make their move until tomorrow."

Chloe's blood ran cold. "You know them?" she asked.

"I know how they operate." He looked directly at her. "When the shooting starts, don’t run outside." She stared back at him. The words barely left his mouth before the first explosion rocked the parking lot. Glass shattered around them as the front windows blew inward. The clubhouse erupted into chaos, and Vengeance lunged across the room—not toward the attackers, but toward Chloe. He tackled her behind the heavy oak bar just as bullets ripped through the spot where she'd been standing. The deafening gunfire drowned out every scream, and as Chloe lay beneath him, trying to catch her breath, only one thought echoed through her mind. Who are you?

Chloe hit the floor hard. The breath rushed from her lungs as Vengeance's body covered hers, shielding her from the shower of broken glass and splintered wood raining down behind the bar. The deafening crack of gunfire echoed through Savage Hell, mixing with the roar of motorcycles outside and the shouts of Royal Bastards scrambling for cover. For one terrifying second, she couldn't hear anything but the ringing in her ears before chaos crashed back in all at once.

"Get down!" Bowie shouted.

"Incoming!" a prospect yelled.

"They're on the east side!" The smell of gunpowder filled the air. Vengeance's forearm remained braced over her head, protecting her as another volley of bullets ripped through the bottles lining the back shelves. Glass exploded, showering whiskey over both of them.

"You hit?" he shouted.

"What?" she asked, not sure that she had heard him correctly.

"Are. You. Hit?" he asked again.

She shook her head frantically. "No." His shoulders sagged with visible relief before he rolled off her just enough to draw the pistol from the small of his back.

"Stay here,” he ordered.

"The hell I will,” Chloe shouted back.

He rolled his eyes at her. "This isn't a debate."

"My family's out there!" she said, nodding to the parking lot.

"They're exactly where they need to be, and you’re where you need to stay,” he said.

"You don't know that!"

"I know Bowie enough to know that he’ll protect them." That stopped her cold. She wanted to believe him—God, she wanted to, but the thought of losing her other dad scared the hell out of her.

Another explosion shook the building, and the lights flickered before emergency lighting bathed the clubhouse in an eerie red glow. Someone screamed, not in fear, but in pain.

"Dad!" Chloe shoved past Vengeance before he could stop her.

"Chloe!" he shouted, but she ignored him. She crawled on her hands and knees behind the bar and peeked around the corner. The clubhouse looked like a war zone. Tables had been overturned into makeshift barricades, and Royal Bastards crouched behind them, returning fire through shatteredwindows. Smoke drifted through the room and near the front entrance. One of the prospects clutched his shoulder while another member dragged him behind cover.

Bowie stood in the middle of it all—completely exposed. He fired two controlled shots through the doorway before ducking behind a support beam. "Dad!" she screamed.

His head whipped toward her. "What the fuck are you doing out here? You need to stay behind the bar."

"I'm helping!" Chloe said.

"The hell you are!" Bowie shouted. A bullet slammed into the beam inches from his face, but Bowie barely flinched. He fired back without hesitation.

Vengeance appeared beside her again. "I told you to stay down."