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“Maybe she didn’t.”
Mandi held up her hands. “Think about it. What if Diablos was the one who has it out for you, not the Cutthroats? You have history with them, right?”
Suddenly, one of her father’s sayings haunted her. “If you don’t run with Diablos, Diablos will chase you.”
“What?”
She shook her head and glanced at Juliet’s corpse. “Just something my father once said to me.” Grabbing a sheet, she covered the deceased woman. “Let’s get out of here.”
“What about the body?”
“We can call the sheriff, but I think the club will move her before a deputy gets here.” She walked to the door and cautiously glanced out. The stairwell door opened, and a Cutthroat stepped out, followed closely by another man in leather. Squinting, she made out the familiar devil emblem on the other man’s jacket. “Diablos is here. We gotta go.”
Mandi nodded, and they hurried to the western adjoining door. Each room had them in case of emergency. Usually, the dollhouse madame or a Cutthroat was on the other side, ensuring their investment. It made Nikita sick to her stomach but it wasn’t something she could do anything about yet. She was organized crime, specifically motorcycle clubs. When she returned to headquarters, she’d pass along the intel about this setup. Without a doubt, the Cutthroats had more prostitution hovels in Colorado.
They managed to make it to the adjoining room before male voices boomed from Juliet’s room. Both women paused and glanced toward the noise.
Mandi held up her finger and leaned closer to the door. “They’re speaking Spanish,” she said, ear to the wood.
“We can’t stay.” Nikita checked the hall and let out a breath at the vacancy. “All clear.”
Slipping into the hallway, Mandi followed Nikita to the stairwell. She opened the door, and both women screeched to a halt. On the other side, three MC members stood waiting. Two with Diablos cuts, one with Cutthroats.
“Look what we have here,” the curly-haired Diablos said. “Where you two off to?” His eyes slid over their clothes, and he clucked his tongue. “You’re not dressed for work,chicas.”
“Headed to the store,” Mandi piped up. “My period started and I’m out of supplies.”
The three men took a step backward as if they’d catch it.
“What about you?” the curly-haired Diablos asked, running his knuckles across Nikita’s cheek.
She instantly recognized him as the same man who spoke with Pillar the night of her attack. Her eyes dipped to the sergeant at arms patch on his jacket and her stomach dropped. None of this was a coincidence.
“Always travel in pairs.”
The men laughed, and the sergeant’s dark eyes skimmed her body. “You could make an exception this time, Nikita, couldn’t you?”
Surprise mixed with panic flowed through her veins. She met Mandi’s eyes and recognized the fear just beneath her tough facade. The duo acted fast. Mandi gut-punched the Cutthroat while Nikita kicked the head Diablos in the balls. They took out the last Diablos together, the short man fumbling down the steps.
“Let’s go!”
Rushing down the stairs, Nikita winced at the sound of a gun firing. She pulled Mandi away from the open stairwell. “Go! I’ll keep them back.” She fired upward, the bullet bouncing off the railing and making a clinking sound.
The bikers hollered for backup, shooting rounds toward her. Nikita picked up her pace, grateful Mandi was one flight ahead of her. So long as they both stayed away from the opening, they’d make it out alive.
She reached the bottom floor and a voice boomed down to her.
“Muerte looks forward to your visit.”
Nikita gritted her teeth to keep from yelling something back at her father’s henchman. Instead, she pushed through the door and sprinted toward Mandi, who waved furiously at her from the entrance.
“You okay?” she asked as they ran outside, not daring to look back.
“Yeah, I’m good. You?”
“Not a scratch.” They made it to the alley, their salvation in sight.
Hawk and Kevlar revved the motorcycles, the loud rumble sure to attract unwanted attention.
