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It seemed like everything that could have gone wrong with this shipment had. Comms hadn’t worked, and we didn’t know which dock to find the ship or when it was getting in. Boomerang had exchanged words and nearly exchanged blows with one of the cargo loaders.
I couldn’t shake the tension that told me something was off, but a bad vibe wasn’t enough to cancel a run. Still, that feeling grew as we got closer to the warehouse, and I was paying more attention to my mirrors than the road in front of me. No one followed us, and we hadn’t seen a single other vehicle, but that itch between my shoulder blades persisted.
I rode harder, pushing our convoy to max speed. I wanted this run over with. When we finally reached the turn off, I slowed to a stop. Spade, Midas, and Boomerang pulled up around me. I told them to follow me, then left Paul Bunyan and Joker behind with the boxcar, ready to get the stuff out of here if something popped off.
Call it paranoia, or maybe I’d watched too many crime shows, but I never let the goods near the warehouse until the area was checked and secured.
The floodlights were on, but the place was wired with motion sensors. Any animal technically could have set them off.
We turned off our bikes, and the silence of the night screamed at us. A twig snapped, and we froze, waiting for something else.
“No,” I said just loud enough for the three guys to hear me. “We leave.” I started to twist the key in the ignition when a gunshot took Midas down. Gunfire came from both sides of the driveway, and I threw myself to the ground, crouching behind my bike for cover.
“Got Midas behind my bike,” Boomerang yelled. It was a small blessing that the asshole finally did something right. “Right shoulder.”
I peeked over my bike, trying to find a target. I was a good shot, but I needed somewhere to aim, and all I could see were rapid muzzle flashes from the woods. I blindly shot at the darkness and whoever was hiding behind the trees like cowards.
The gunfire never stopped, but my limited ammo meant I needed to pace myself. Lights from the highway told me the boxcar had made it out before anyone realized it wasn’t coming down the driveway.
As soon as I refocused on whoever was stupid enough to ambush us, men descended from the darkness. Corven, the president of Hell’s Spawn MC led the pack, running at as fast as his pathetic fat ass could manage. Behind him were the rest of his morons.
I reached up, turned my bike on, and revved the back tire, kicking up as much dust as possible. I stayed low as I came out from behind my bike and ran to tackle the first body I found. My eyes burned from the dust. Three well-placed punches and a slammed head to the ground later, the guy I’d tackled was knocked out.
And I had a second gun. I fired at anyone wearing a Hell’s Spawn cut and took out two more.
“I’m out!” Spade held up an empty clip just as a guy snuck up behind him. I opened my mouth to call out, but he was already turning and knocking the gun out of the guy’s hands. He dove for the fallen weapon and shot at anyone who wore a Hell’s Spawn cut.
Boomerang held off three more of the assholes, keeping Midas between him and his bike as he dodged a punch and roundhouse kicked a man in the face.
Four guys ran down the drive from the highway. “It’s gone,” one called out, then all four converged on me with their guns pointed. Like they’d planned it, they all pulled their triggers, except nothing happened. Fucking idiots. Who the hell executed an ambush without bringing enough fire power?
Discarding their guns, they came at me, not bothering to take turns. I dodged, dancing out of their reach, and went back at them. A jab to the nose, a body shot, a kick that had one listing to one side.
They attacked with wild rage that made them miss more often than not. But I could only hold them off for so long. Every dodge and hit took more out of me. Far too soon I was flagging, my side aching from a well-placed hit, and my lungs couldn’t hold enough oxygen.
Something slammed into the middle of my back, sending me sprawling face-first in the dirt. Pain radiated through my body, and my arms shook when I tried to push myself up.
I needed to get back on my feet. A kick to the ribs stole what breath my lungs had left. Needed to make sure I made it out of here alive. For Peyton. Punches rained down on my kidneys. A photo reel of the life I wanted to build with her played in my mind. Our family, our home, our future. If I didn’t get the fuck up right now, I would lose it all.
I caught the foot careening toward my face and gave it a sharp twist. A heavy thud accompanied the guy’s wail as he crashed down next to me.
“Enough,” someone called, and the constant blows finally stopped. “We have what we need.”
Footsteps crunched, getting closer to me with every step. My body screamed in agony as I got my hands underneath me and pushed until I was on all fours. Taking a deep breath, I shoved myself up to my knees.
Corven leaned over me, his scarred face pinched in anger. I started to get to my feet, but he shoved me and sent me sprawling to my back.
His wide body blocked out the brilliance of the night sky above him. “Tell your president to come find me and to bring that bitch, Betty. I have some things he might want back.” The last thing I saw before everything went dark was a black boot hurtling toward my face.
ChapterFourteen
PEYTON
An ear-splitting alarm blared,and flashing red lights filled my bedroom at HQ.
I’d been sleeping here for two days, too nervous to go home. Afraid and almost excited at the prospect of finding him on my porch again. And if he didn’t show? I wasn’t ready to deal with the emotional fallout of that either.
To sum it up, I was being a baby back bitch and avoiding all of it.
