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Chapter 2
Bunny
Kendrick catches up to me after the drama is over, but he’s right on time to help me carry this poor guy out of the hallway and into our van waiting outside. The muscle of my little crew skids to a halt next to me and looks between the two men lying on the floor.
“Okay, Bun, which one’s the rescue, and which one’s the one we need to make disappear?”
For all that he’s six foot five inches of solid muscle, shaved bald and tatted up, Kendrick’s a smart guy. He’s known me a decade, long enough to figure out that I didn’t bean the bodyguard for no good reason. I wipe the blood off my trusty bat and nod at the dead body in the suit. “That’s the one that started it. The other guy’s just a misunderstood drunk.”
Kendrick rolls his eyes and hefts the dead body over his shoulder. “I’ll call Doc to come take care of the drunk, then. You good to watch him until he gets here?”
I kneel down and look at the unconscious clubgoer. He doesn’t look like the type to come to a place like Club Viper. Clothes are all wrong, jacket doesn’t fit, and … is that a Dungeons and Dragons tattoo I see peeking out from under his collar? I’d wager someone talked him into coming out tonight. Dude’s beat all to shit, but nothing Doc can’t fix as long as we get him back to the Burrow quickly. “Let’s get him out of here first. The dead dude’s not going anywhere.”
With a heavy sigh, Kendrick dumps the body against the door, blocking anyone from walking in on us, and picks up my new friend. We start walking down the hallway but break into a run as someone pounds on the club side of the door. They must’ve noticed the bodyguard’s gone missing.
“Shit! Bun, we can’t leave that body for them to find. The Cobra’s already got it out for you.”
“That was a Viper goon? Hm. I didn’t even see the snake tattoo.”
Kendrick grunts as he yanks open the alley door. “Back of his neck. His suit collar hid most of it, but I saw it when I picked him up.”
I shrug as I pull my gun from the holster under my arm to guard our rear. “Well, Samson Ramsey already hates me. What’s one more reason in the grand scheme of things? He can just add it to the growing pile of shit I’ve done to piss him off.”
The side door of the van slides open as we approach, and Doc—a.k.a. Jefferson Ledger, almost-M.D.—is already tying back his dreads. “Who’s this guy?” he asks as he pulls on a pair of nitrile gloves.
“Victim of a Viper meat sack,” I say, keeping my gun trained on the alley while Doc helps Kendrick load up the unconscious man. “And there might be more meat sacks on the way, so we should probably jet. Think he’ll make it to the Burrow?”
Doc lets out a huff of air and wipes his forehead with the back of his wrist. “Yeah, if we step on it. I can stabilize him while Kendrick drives.”
My muscleman nods and gets behind the wheel while I climb into the passenger seat. Shouts echo in the alley as the van peels out into the late-night Summer City traffic. I take careful aim and nail one of the Vipers right in the shoulder before Kendrick takes a sharp turn, and the alley vanishes from sight.
In the back of the van, which Doc has set up like a makeshift ambulance, my new friend moans at every bump in the road. Even unconscious, he’s feeling his injuries. I turn around in my seat and watch Doc work on him, taking some time to try to picture what he might look like without the swelling and bruising from the beating he took.
He’s kinda cute. Close-cropped light brown hair, slim build, and those eyes—well, the one that hasn’t swollen shut—are a gorgeous blue. Whoever this “Bunny Love” of his is, she’s a lucky girl.
Kendrick clears his throat, and I turn back around.
“We’re not keeping him, Bun.”
“Why not? We can’t let him go back home. If the Vipers are after him, we’ve gotta at least give him a place to lie low until they forget about him.”
“The Vipers don’t forget. The Cobra definitely doesn’t forget.”
I brush off his concerns with a wave of my hand. “Oh, fuck the Cobra. We don’t even know if he’s done anything to get Samson’s attention. For all we know, the stiff in the club was just bored. It doesn’t take much for a Viper guard to beat someone. Guy probably smiled at the wrong girl in the club.”
The van’s radio clicks on, and Keys’ voice pumps through the speakers. Keys—also known as Tommy Malone—is our surveillance guy and hacker extraordinaire. “He was hitting on Candy Cane. I saw on the club security cams. His dumb coworker shoved him right at her, and he was drunk enough to take a chance.”
“How the fuck do you know it was his coworker, Keys?” Kendrick—whose name really is Kendrick—keeps his eyes on the traffic around us, but his question is valid.
Keys coughs. “That doesn’t matter. What matters is that you guys get him back to the Burrow pronto, so Doc can stitch him up.”
Something about this doesn’t sit right with me. Keys is always scanning the city’s security networks while he’s on the computer, looking for people who need our help, but he usually doesn’t show this much concern for the people we save. I’d ask him about it, but the stranger in the back starts to stir and call my name, distracting me.
“B-bunny? Where’s Bunny?”
I unbuckle and crawl over the console, crouching across from Doc and taking the man’s hand. “I’m right here, dude. What do you need?”
His head rolls toward me, and he blinks at me with his good eye. “You’re not her, are you?”
