Page 115 of Dark Surrender

A feral woman willing to kill anyone and anything to protect what matters most.

Once I’ve gotten my bearings back, I whisper to those listening, “You assholes owe us.”

I mean it.

They owe us big time. I expect more than the house Dark bought me after this. Their club president should be kicked in the dick for doing such a piss-poor job setting up this mission. Not that it’s all his fault, but he pulled the trigger and set everything in motion. If I had time to think about it long enough to be angry, I’d stew for a long while.

Unfortunately, I have a gross man to visit and apologize to for not giving him the time of day.

Then tonight, it’s on.

Wish us luck.

We’re gonna need it.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

Dark

In the back of my father’s cleaning van, where all the dead fucks usually lie before being disposed of, I crouch next to Angel, ready to get this over with. I’m tired of waiting.

We turn onto the resort road, and as expected, a group of men stops us.

Dad casually rolls down his window. I palm my gun and make eye contact with Angel.

“You lost?” the dick outside the driver’s window growls.

“Oh. Sorry,” Dad lays the cluelessness on thick. “Is this…” He trails off and rustles around in the center console. It’s dark enough outside that these douchebags can’t see what Dad’s up to. He looks back at us. It’s quick, but his eyes flick from left to right.

Two other men. Gotcha.

The guy at the window bangs on the side of the van. “Come on, old man, I ain’t got all fuckin—” The douchebag’s words die as Dad whips his gun around and pulls the trigger.

Boom.

Down he goes.

As the shot sings a happy song, I throw open the back of the van and jump out with Angel on my six. A van door knocks one man aside. Dad hangs out the driver’s side window and ends him with a quick one-two as we round the opposite side, where a dumbass in a suit two sizes too big runs backward, firing at us with comically bad aim.

Fuckin’ idiot.

To be safe, I duck down and wave for Angel to do the same. He crouches, and I flatten myself on the gravel road. The security dumbass pings the side of the van as he races into a field. On my stomach, I aim and fire from under the vehicle. My first shot hits his thigh. He collapses on his ass, and his beautiful howl of pain rings loud enough for half the world to hear. We don’t bother to check on him or make sure he’s dead because he’ll bleed out soon enough.

Angel and I jump back into the van, and Dad takes off like a bat outta hell for the next set of fuckers a mile ahead. The van doors swing violently side to side, and Angel grabs the back of my jeans so I don’t fall out and wreck my pretty face as I reach out and slam them shut.

Sweat breaking across his forehead, Angel sprawls on the floor, and I step over him. He slaps the side of my calf in commiseration, and we share a hopped-up-on-adrenaline smile and a short laugh. This is what we live for. It’d be nice if we weren’t doing this shit just to get to our women. Then we could milk it. Have a little fun.

“In a hurry, old man?” I huff, dropping my ass into the passenger seat as I finish catching my breath.

White-knuckling the steering wheel, Dad snarls at me. Blood’s dripping down the side of his door, onto his pants, and along his arm.

I need him not to be a bloody mess when he sees Kali, or she’ll worry, so I shove my arm in the back and snap my fingers. “Hand me something to clean him up, will ya?” I ask Angel, who hands me a washcloth soaked in half a bottle of water. It’s dripping when I toss it into Dad’s lap, and he wipes what he can, mostly smearing blood, but it works, sorta.

Slowing the van, he throws the rag in the back. “We’re gonna have a fuck ton of cleaning tonight, brothers.”

Angel crows, and I join him as I bang the side of my fist on the console.

Hell yeah, we are.