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Ace pushes off the wall, an unreadable expression on his face. “Let’s gear up and ride out,” he shouts over the hum of multiple conversations. His gaze slides to me as the men get to their feet and head toward the exit. “We’ll talk when I get back.”
“Yeah, sure.” I don’t believe anything he says. “Just make sure Nova is safe.”
“If you fuckin’ care about him so much, then why are you so determined to leave?” some biker with face tattoos asks.
I laugh. “Because the welcome I’ve received has been so over-fucking-whelming that I just can’t take it.” I shake my head and nod toward Dix waiting and watching at the door. “Look, Ace. Don’t worry about me. Worry about Nova. He’s one of you.”
I take a few steps back as the men bolt out of here. Using the distraction, I slip back into my room, grab my bag, and sneak out the back door, waiting until the symphony of motorcycles becomes a dull roar before I make my escape.
Fuck these people. They got what they asked for, and I still have two hundred bucks. Plus, the steak knife Letty left on the tray with my dinner. I’m set.
I don’t let the sounds of the city scare me as I put more and more miles between me and the clubhouse, one step at a time. Instead of jumping at every noise, I pull the hood over my head to conceal my identity, keep my head down, and head in the direction of the bus station.
The bus is a good way to slip through the cracks and get lost in the crowd. Plus, I can bolt at any stop. Makes me harder to find.
Ideal? No, but when has anything in my life been ideal? Never. That’s when. I sure as hell don’t expect things to change now, either, so I haul ass, breaking out of sight when a car creeps by a little too slow. I’m making good headway, spotting a sign telling me I’m about a mile from the bus depot.
“Hey, yo! What set you rep?”
I freeze, not just at the question but also the voice, but only for a second before I pick up my speed. There ain’t no good response to that question because it’s just a pretext to start a fight.
“You heard me, bitch. Where you from?” That heavy East L.A. accent belongs to Simone, my former best fucking friend.
I walk as fast as I can, but my progress is stopped when twoSangrientasstep out in front of me, Tori, and a new girl. “Going somewhere, bitch?” The new girl asks the question while Tori snatches off my hoodie.
“Well, well, well. Guess who’s still alive?” She gives me a hard shove, knocking me to the ground where they have me surrounded.
“Damn, and I thought you’d be dead and stinking up that warehouse by now,” Simone says with a gross smile. “Guess those biker motherfuckers got sick of you and booted your ass?”
I don’t say shit as I try to get to my feet before Glory steps forward, kicking me right in the stomach until I’m a weak ass ball on the ground. I lay there for a minute to see what’s gonna happen next.
“Fuck you and fuck those bikers.”
“You fucking liar!” Glory kicks me again, this time with enough force to send me flying onto my back, but the dumb bitch uses too much force and falls beside me. “Traitor,” she spits at me.
My blood boils even though it shouldn’t. I know what they think, and I know they’re wrong. I also know nothing will change what these bitches think, but still, I rage at the accusation. “Fuck you, Glory Hole.”
“You wish,” she smiles. “I’m Ghost’s lady now.”
I laugh at that. “Not for long,” I say and lunge forward with the knife–thank you, Letty–slashing a deep cut across her face.
“You bitch,” she screams at the top of her lungs. “My face! What did you do to my face?”
“Payback’s a bitch,” I smile just as Tori’s boot smacks against the side of my head, sending me to the ground. I’m still clutching the knife as fists and feet rain down over me so fast it might as well be one continuous strike.
My whole body radiates pain because these rabid bitches won’t let up. They punch and kick every inch of me until I’m nothing but a small ball of flesh, trying to protect my head from the blows.
“Stupid fucking bitch,” Tori shouts, punctuating her words with two hard kicks to my back. “Should have just fucking died the last time I kicked your ass.”
“I’ll do it,” the new girl says, so full of confidence she could have been me. She yanks my shoulder and pushes me onto my back, mounting my chest, giving me my first real glimpse of her. She can’t be more than sixteen or seventeen, so fucking eager to rain fire and hell down on a complete stranger just to be part of the crew.
“You can try,” I tell her, shifting the grip on the knife under my hip.
She lets out a loud cackle that passes for a laugh and wraps both hands around my throat, squeezing hard. “You’re dead bitch.”
I squirm, giving her a few seconds to build her confidence before I jam the knife hard into her side before I yank it out, and then do it again. “Not yet, I ain’t.”
The newbie is screaming as she falls over. “She fucking stabbed me,” she screams.
