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He laughs again. “If the old woman can’t shoot me, I know you can’t.” I smile at the uncertainty in his voice.
“Wanna bet, asshole?” My finger slides down to the trigger, and I hold my breath. “Don’t take another step.”
“You ain’t gonna shoot me, baby girl. You ain’t ready for all that.” He takes another step forward, and I know what I need to do.
At this point, it’s him or me—or us—and I squeeze the trigger once. Twice. He’s down on his knees, wearing an expression of shock and clutching his belly, but fear grips me, and I pull the trigger six or seven more times until the last squeeze clicks. The gun is empty.
I scream at the top of my lungs, a loud feral sound that hurts my throat, and then I toss the gun, watching in a strange mix of fascination and horror as his eyes go wide as if he can’t believe I did it. He slowly falls back, eyes staring at the ceiling.
A few gurgling noises sound inside the walk-in, then he goes completely still. Completely fucking still.
He’s dead.
Because of me.
Blood spreads inside the fridge and onto the floor of the kitchen. His lifeless eyes haunt me, but I’m unable to look away. I’m transfixed by him as Maven and then Letty dash from the fridge screaming.
Diesel and Stone rush into the kitchen, remnants of charred towels in their hands. I assume they beat out the flames and feel dizzy at the level of chaos that erupted so quickly.
The guys stare at the man full of holes, their faces hold matching expressions of shock. Stone’s gaze collides with mine first, and I recognize a mixture of worry and pride on his handsome face. “You all right?”
I nod, but I’m not all right. I can feel it, but that’s what you do in these situations, right? Grin and bear it. “Yeah.”
Diesel kicks the gun away and asks, “Who the fuck is that?” as he holds out a big beefy hand to me. “Come on, Willow. Let’s get you out of here.”
I nod slowly and let him pull me away from the dead body. I shake my head. “He came for me the other day, but I don’t know who he is.”
“Probably a soldier forLos Tres Colombianos, Willow.” Stone’s voice is thick with sympathy, and I have a feeling I really fucked up just now.
“I need to call Ace.”
Shit.“Am I in trouble?”
Stone shakes his head, and I grip Diesel’s hand for comfort. “No, but we need to get you girls out of here.”
Diesel turns to Maven and Letty while Stone talks to Ace. “Any of you all right to drive?”
Letty nods. “I’m shaky, but I can make it back to the clubhouse. My car is out back.”
“Good. We’ll keep you covered at the front and back. Let’s go.” He nods to Stone, and we all leave out the back door, leaving the smoking, fiery wreckage for now.
“Did I do the wrong thing?” My body shakes fiercely as questions pour from my mouth, one after the other. In my desire to stay alive, to keep my friends alive, have I started something the club can’t finish?
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. What else could I do?”
I promised myself I would do whatever it took to stay alive after nearly dying in the hospital.
Now that I have done what it takes, I’m worried that I just stepped into some shit that the Reckless Souls or even Joaquin won’t be able to fix.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Joaquin
“Willow, babe. Thank fuck you’re all right.”
As soon as she steps inside the clubhouse, I rush to Willow and wrap her in my arms. I don’t give a shit about the blood splattered on her face. She’s safe, and that’s all that matters. I pull back and take in her red, watery eyes.
“You are all right, aren’t you?”
