AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Snatch grabbed me by the shoulder as I wrenched backwards, and a tearing pain shot through my shoulder.
“Come here, bitch, I wanna see what you got under those rags. Fury said we couldn’t fuck ya, but I’m sure as hell gonna touch ya,” Snatch snarled.
His fist slammed into my face, and then my shoulder, and I dropped back with a cry of pain. Cruel hands tore at my clothes, and I fought with everything I had. But my shoulder was in agony, and my fight was pathetic.
A loud bang sounded close by, and Snatch fell on top of me. Shouts rang out, and then I heard loud thumps.
Terrified, I closed my eyes tight and refused to look.
“Summer!” a voice I knew bellowed. Something splattered across my face, and then gentle hands swept me up. I couldn’t stop the cry of pain as my shoulder burned.
“It’s me, baby. Slick. We’ve got you,” Slick murmured as he held me tight.
“I did something to my shoulder. You’re hurting me,” I gasped as I felt myself go lightheaded. Slick relaxed his grip on me as his eyes searched my face.
“She needs a hospital,” a man said as he checked me over visually. His cut said Drake.
“Can you call an ambulance to the garden centre? They shot my uncle,” I begged, more concerned about Uncle Brian.
The men wearing Rage cuts all swapped worried glances. Slick’s face filled with sympathy, and it was a look I recognised.
“No! He’s not dead!” I cried as darkness swirled.
“Baby, I’m so sorry,” Slick replied.
“No, no!”
“Slick, Dana’s called in. She’s following Irish,” Drake said.
Slick looked torn, and I swallowed bitterness. Uncle Brian was dead because of his club, and he was worried about his side piece.
Slick got to his feet as I allowed the encroaching darkness to take me. That way, I didn’t have to deal with the pain I was feeling. I happily tumbled headfirst into oblivion.
Chapter Fourteen.
Dana
It was raining heavily as I drove towards my home. But luckily, this late in the evening, the roads were clear. I hated driving in the rain, mainly because other drivers were assholes. And speaking of assholes, I glanced up as a black van approached and flashed its lights for me to get out of the way. They could go to hell; I was doing the speed limit, and that was final. The driver clearly got fed up after a while, and it swerved out into the opposite lane and sped past me.
My eyes nearly popped out of my head as the back doors flew open, and I blinked in disbelief. Irish was being held in the back by what looked like four men. She was fighting with them and winning until one smashed her over the head with a gun. She went limp, and the doors flew shut again.
My instincts told me to drop back, and I hit Dylan on speed dial.
“Dana?” his voice asked, sounding confused and concerned.
“Dylan, I’m driving home, and this van just cut in front of me,” I said.
“Okay,” he drawled.
“Irish, that woman we’ve been investigating was in the back, and she was fighting with four men,” I replied.
“Stay on their tail, keep back and let me call Rage,” Dylan said, and I made a noise of agreement.
Dylan cut the line, and I gazed out of the window. I was at least three car lengths back from the van now, and the rain was making seeing ahead hard. But I stayed on their tail and, at the same time, activated my tracking beacon.
Dylan insisted all the cars had them that belonged to people who worked for him. I was damn glad I had it now. They’d be able to find me if something happened. I watched as the van took the turn for the I-90 and chased after them. They were heading east towards Box Elder.
The phone rang, and I hit the button to answer it.
