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I nod grimly, my vision narrowing as I trust in my brothers to return fire while I do my fucking damnedest to keep us ahead of the West Point shitheads who were clearly lying in wait for us.
“How the fuck did they know she was claiming her inheritance today?” Maddoc spits out as I take a corner fast enough to put us up on two wheels.
“We’ll find out,” Logan answers coldly, cracking his window to return fire.
There are three West Point cars on my ass now, but two of ours finally appear in my peripheral vision, doing the fucking job we brought them for. One of them rams into McKenna’s henchmen—Luis, I’m pretty sure—cutting them off, and the other Reaper vehicle goes neck and neck with the other two, working hard to give us the space to make a break for it.
Another West Point car suddenly pulls onto the street in front of me, playing fucking chicken, and I stick my gun out the window and make those fuckers duck, then spin the wheel hard, veering off onto another street as the other Reaper cars we brought along for protection finally find us again.
They try to cut off our pursuers, but McKenna’s men are starting to box us in. My brothers are both firing out their respective windows and Chloe’s whimpering in the back seat, staying low like Maddoc told her to, but Riley’s unarmed.
I can fix that.
“Princess,” I bite out, my eyes meeting hers in the rear view mirror for a moment. That steel I fucking adore in her blazes in her eyes, and I toss my gun back to her. “Take a few out.”
She nods, then lowers her window and opens fire. She looks serious and focused, and the time we spent at the shooting range pays off when she takes out the tires of the car behind us.
“Fuckyeah,” Maddoc says as I fishtail around another corner. He leans out as the West Point car Riley hit starts to spin out behind us, the driver hanging out the window and taking aim at us.
His mistake. Maddoc puts him down with one shot, and I finally break away from the West Point pursuit, trusting the rest of our crew to draw their fire and keep them off our tail.
“We clear?” Maddoc asks.
I scan around us. “Maybe.”
“I’m tapping traffic cams,” Logan adds. “I don’t think they—fuck. Four o’clock, Dante.”
I bare my teeth as I catch the vehicle Logan warns me about, coming up fast from a side street as we rip past it. I steer hard into a turn, looking for a route that won’t take us back into the fray as Logan rattles off route options and Maddoc and Riley both open fire out the back windows again.
“Fucking hell,” I growl, adrenaline sharpening my vision as the car—it’s that fucking silver Charger again—barrels up on our ass. I take a few sharp turns and then lay down a string of curses when the last one brings me eye to eye with a series of orange construction cones. “Motherfucker.”
The Charger is coming hard and the street in front of us is empty of construction workers but with the asphalt torn the fuck up, I know it will eat the hell out of our tires if I try it. There’s nothing on the left but I see the shadow of an alley up ahead on the right, so I gun it and skid into the narrow opening, banking on our luck holding.
It doesn’t. A chain link fence blocks off the back of it, and a steel dumpster blocks the other side, making the option of ramming through not a viable one. Before I can throw the Escalade into reverse, the Charger is on us, boxing us into a space so narrow I doubt we can even get our doors open.
Next to me, Logan goes utterly still, and I meet Maddoc’s grim gaze in the mirror.
Fuck. We’re stuck… and the only way out is to carve a way out in West Point blood.
50
RILEY
“Oh god,”Chloe whimpers as everyone springs into action at once.
Logan reaches under his seat and efficiently reloads as Dante jerks the wheel, angling the Escalade across the alley to give us the maximum protection it can provide. My heart races, my stomach sour with fear and the gun Dante gave me shaking as I try to focus on what I need to do.
Protect Chloe.
Hold them off.
Maddoc doesn’t give me a chance. He hustles me and Chloe out the door that’s angled away from the West Point car, opening fire over our heads. Dante grabs a spare weapon from beneath his seat, then he and Logan slide out and use the Escalade for cover, their guns blazing the minute their feet hit the pavement.
“Clear an opening,” Maddoc directs them grimly, keeping his big body between the West Point shooters and me and Chloe. “We’ll go over the fence.”
All three Reapers have their weapons raised, the continuous sound of their gunfire as they try to create a path out of this shit creating a deafening roar. Bullets ricochet between the brick walls that make up either side of the alley, and I don’t even realize I’m screaming until my throat starts to feel raw, the gun in my hand growing so warm it feels like a living beast.
Maddoc shouts something, but I can’t hear what he’s saying, and just when he starts to wave us toward the back of the alley, another car tears around the corner and joins the one that has us blocked in.
