Page 23 of Rattler & Beast


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Two-hundred and eighty-seven.Alive.

“You missed a spot over there.”

Five-hundred and three.Alive.Something rumbles in the distance. Thunder, maybe? I don’t give a fuck. The sky can let loose for all I care.

Alive

Alive.

Alive.

A warm body presses against my back. “It’s as clean as I can get it for now. I’ve got her. Talk to them or I’ll rip their fucking heads off.” The familiar vibrations of Beast’s deep voice spread through my body, warming my insides faster than a straight shot of bourbon.

Rattler eases up, loosening his hold on me, but I don’t want him to let go. It takes everything left inside of me to not beg. He holds my face in his hands, staring into my eyes. Even in the dark, I can see the emotion in his eyes. He’s worried about me. “I’ll be right back, Elle. I’m okay. You’re okay. We’re going home.”

He pulls back, releasing me slowly, but I grab his sleeve. “Wait.” My head is still fuzzy, but it’s clearing. Idistinctlyremember Hicks shooting at Ryland. I was right there, pinned to his fucking side, and itreallydidn’t look like he missed. “Howare you okay? He shot you.”

“I’ll explain it,” Beast says, wrapping his arms around my waist. “Seriously, you gotta deal with them. I can’t right now. I’m so fucking pissed. I’m going to hurt someone.” He’s shaking almost as hard as I am, but when he squeezes me closer, it eases up. Rattler nods at him, gives me a wink, and jogs toward a group of men approaching on motorcycles.

I glance around us and frown. Minutes ago, this was a bloody fucking crime scene, but now the road and shoulder show no sign of what went down. The blood has been washed from the pavement. There are no guns in sight. Even the spilled apples have been rounded up. Most importantly, though, Hicks’ body is nowhere to be seen. I have a horrible feeling that he’s hidden under some apples inside the truck, but I’m just going to choose not to think about it.

Beast buries his face in my hair, his warm breath ticking my neck.I’m his comfort.The realization makes tears well up in my eyes. I’ve never been that for someone. Sure, I’ve looked after my students. I’ve put bandaids on cuts and helped some of them get through tough years. But this is different. Wildly, overwhelmingly, beautifully different.

I lean back against his chest and crane my neck back so I can see him, albeit upside down. His eyes pull me in, tugging at my soul until those threatening tears escape. I need to see what’s happening, but I really don’t want to turn into a sobbing mess in front of everyone. I reach up, hooking my arm behind his neck so I can stroke the shaggy hair at the base of his skull. I just want him to know I’ve got him, too.

“The guns and clips were all loaded with blanks,” Beast murmurs. “Even the ones we were carrying. Those assholes,” he says, pointing a finger at the bikers who are only fifty yards away, “were supposed to be two or three minutes behind us, guns loaded. We dropped enough info on frequencies we know he uses—used—to lure him out here. Set it up to look like a big score with limited security to avoid attention.”

“And… he bought it,” I say flatly. “Moron.”

Beast snorts. “Yup. And then it all went tits up.”

“Because of me.” The guilt slams into me, making me nauseous. I almost got him killed. Rattler too. The thought makes me want to fold in on myself until I disappear. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper, trying to keep the tears at bay.

“No, baby.” Beast lifts my chin, a hard look in his eyes. “Whatever held them up,” he jerks his chin at the other Sinners, “would have gotten us killed.”

I glance at the highway patrol cruiser, sitting dark on the side of the road. “But he had a gun…”

“Loaded with blanks,” he reassures me. “The lazy fuck left it lying around instead of putting it in a safe. Ace took care of it this afternoon.”

“Oh… fuck.” I whisper slowly, staring at the cruiser. My mind swirls with the limited info I know about cop cars. “What about the dash cam? Oh, god. I’m going to jail!” I can’t breathe. My world goes black at the edges.

“Elle.” Beast spins me around to face him, his voice firm and commanding. “You’re not. I promise,” he says calmly. “His dash cam was disconnected. We covered every angle on this.”

The Sinners head in our direction as the first raindrops fall. Reaper’s in front with a fat lip. Blood trickles down one arm. “Where the fuck have you been?” Beast yells over a crack of thunder.

“Goddamn Chaos goons,” Reaper shouts back, spitting what looks like blood onto the pavement. “And Mayhem.” The Sinner’s Prez glares at me, raising his voice. “The fuck are you doing out of that house, Cherry? I swear to Christ… if you’re the reason Mayhem knew where we were—”

“Don’t.” Beast and Rattler spit the word in unison.

“Clint already knew what was going down!” I shout back, pulling out of Beast’s hold and stepping toward Reaper. “Hecalledme. Said Hicks was riled up about something the Sinners were doing in Robbinsville. He said that if I was tangled up in ‘anything’ to get the fuck out; that being anywhere near the Sinners tonight was a death sentence. So, you know what I did? I lied! I kept to your story. I denied any connection with you all and searched half of the county before I found Hicks with a gun to their head!” I shout back.

“She’s the only reason we’re alive,” Rattler adds, lips pinched in a tight line.

“If you want to point fingers, how come your prospect didn’t tell you I snuck out?” I ask Reaper. Lightning strikes in the near distance; letting loose a flash of light and a ground-shaking roll of thunder. “Either he’s ten pounds of stupid in a five-pound bag, or you’ve got a leak with a patchy beard!”

Reaper seems to consider that for a second before turning to a pair of guys behind him. I can’t hear what he says, but the pair gets on their bikes and roar off into the night.

“This is all Hicks?” Reaper asks, waving a finger in my direction. I frown and glance down, recoiling in horror. I vaguely remember someone wiping my face, but there’s blood all over me that couldn’t be wiped up. It’s soaked into my jacket, my pants, my shirt, even my shoes.

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