At the edge of trees, I turned the bike toward the war zone. It was Hell, right before my eyes, but I had Giver at my back. “Giver, you know better than to turn me on before a fight.”
“Hungry and horny makes you shoot better.” With his gun, he pointed. “That fallen tree is your goal. We may have to lay the beast down and army crawl for shelter when they recover and start in on us.”
We both took a deep breath and then raced into battle.
Jenny, watch over us.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Church Eyes
Within seconds of me flying us across the field, Giver’s guns raised in front of me, preparing to fire as soon as we were close enough. No bikers, their backs to us, noticed us yet. As soon as the ground was leveling out and I dared steer with only one hand, my right hand reached into my holster, then pointed my weapon.
“Almost…” he warned. Then, “Now!”
Bam! Pop! Bam! Bam! Pop!... Giver and I let the bullets fly.
He didn’t need to tell me to only shoot what I knew I could hit. This wasn’t my first rodeo. I wasn’t going to let bullets rain down on my brothers.
One-handed, I wasn’t quite as effective as Giver, but I took some assholes down.
Even on a moving bike, my husband’s shots were dead-on, landing in backs. At first, the bikers seemed utterly confused, looking from side to side, seeing their comrades’ arms flail wide and then their bodies hitting the ground.
As expected, it only took a few long seconds for the enemy to recover. Soon, they were spinning around and firing back at us. I was almost to the fallen tree when I heard Ping! Ping! Bullets hitting the bike. Then a grunt.
“Giver!”
“I’m good!” His arm held to my waist. “Close enough! Lay him down, babe!”
For so many years, I rode upright, handling my shit. Now I was forcibly putting a bike down on his left side. To let Giver know it was coming, I pushed against the handles to lean harder into his chest, then we both leaned to the left to try and control the fall.
With the bike halfway down, Giver did his best to throw his weight backward, taking me with him at the perfect moment. Motion and energy did the rest. That picturesque bike outweighed us both, sliding faster, almost leaving us behind in slow motion. Only the outer edge of the seat clipped our legs and boots.
It was eerie to have the composure and time to witness Giver’s bike slide past the tree.
Doing our best not to lose fisted weapons, Giver and I rolled. Rocks and twigs made the landing even tougher on our bodies. Adrenaline spared us from registering any pain, at least for the moment.
Before we even came to a complete stop, Giver fired a few more shots as we fought to get to our elbows. With as little delay as possible, we pulled our bodies forward, keeping our legs as low as we could while our boots dug and pushed us toward safety. I could hear this wicked whizzing—bullets flying past us. Then Puh! Puh! as the fallen tree offered us cover while we crawled closer.
As soon as we had some cover, Giver and I rolled to our backs and reloaded as fast as possible. I also grabbed another gun so I could double-fist. As soon as our guns were ready, we both reached around over the fallen tree, took aim, and fired.
Giver yelled over all the gunfire, “See any of our own?”
Searching for bikers to shoot, we scanned for friendlies.
“Not yet! But I see some pussies running!”
Having guns at their fronts and back, the enemy was starting to lose their nerve.
Bam! I shot a man mounting a bike so he could flee. Crash! He and his bike went down.
Giver pointed. “I’m trying for that tree. Stay here.”
I did not.
As soon as he was on his feet, I was on mine, as well. Running behind him, I fired at the ones firing at us. When we were just about to make it to the standing tree to the right, Giver reached back and yanked me forward, throwing me into the woods, hovering his body over mine. Against another tree, we both gasped for air.
There was no time for him to lecture me. His head on top of mine, he puffed for air. “You hit?”
“No.”
From over my shoulder, Giver went back to shooting from the left side of the tree while I dared to peek around the other. The tree being closer to the compound meant I could now see the dirt road much easier through all the smoke, and I could see the fencing around the compound. We were to the right of the compound. That’s when I finally saw a few Stallions. Torque was running with Crow and trying to cross the road, until Crow took a bullet and went down.
As Torque hit the ground to half-lay on top of him and protect him, I was already yelling, “Torque and Crow down and exposed!”
Pop! Pop! Pop! Giver asked, “To your right?”
“Yes.”
Pop! Pop! Pop! Giver discharged a clip, grabbed one from my jean pocket, and replaced it. “Ready.”
Both firing, we left our cover behind and ran to our brothers. Now, even closer to the wire fencing, I could see Redemption Ryders inside, shooting across the road, taking down men. They seemed very focused on keeping the enemy from moving to their left, right where we were.
Seeing us coming, Torque yelled, “Cover me, and I’ll drag him.”
On his back, Crow was still firing and screaming, “Motherfuckers!”
Bam! Bam! Bam!... Giver and I leaped over Crow’s feet and fired and fired as Torque dragged Crow toward another tree. Torque suddenly jolted as he got clipped on the shoulder. As the man who shot him aimed again to finish the job, I sent a bullet into his head.
Holstering one gun, I tapped Giver’s back as I ran behind him to help an injured Torque, who was continuing to drag Crow to the Ryders’ side of the road. Using only peripheral vision, Giver kept walking with us, firing the whole time.
Enemy gunfire was too heavy to make it to the fencing, so we opted for a large tree off to the side of it. Once to the tree, I almost screamed when I saw who Torque and Crow had been trying to get to. No wonder the Ryders are protecting this side! Not caring that there wasn’t enough room to protect us all, I reached for my brother, but was jerked backward by my vest and shoved behind another tree. Giver shielded me there while we studied Lynx, sitting on his knees, holding his side.
I was no longer Road Captain, but old habits die hard. I asked Torque, “Report!”
Still on his knees, Lynx was now shooting around the tree with his left hand as Torque wrapped his right arm. “He’s pissed but not hurt too bad!”
“You?”
“Just a shoulder nick!”
That reminded me… “Giver—”
His heavy breathing against my back brought me comfort. “Same. Just a shoulder nick.”
I had yet to have a second to even notice any of his blood.
Lying flat behind the tree with Lynx and Torque, Crow was roaring, “I had one fucking leg without a scar and these bastards had to fuck it up!”
Torque shrugged at us. “He’s pissed, too!”
Giver asked, “Where’s everyone else?”
Torque shook his head. “Scattered!”
There was no time to ask what had happened and how everyone was separated. We needed a plan. Giver told me, “I gotta get back in there.”
I patted my pockets and holder. “Ammo?”
He reloaded. “Enough to cause some damage.”
Just then, a whistle made it over all the noise. Giver and I quickly looked to the fencing about ten feet away. Giver laughed, “Motherfucker! Ya finally get out of bed?”
Artist was between the fence and the workshop for the bikes. He was using bolt cutters to cut a hole in the wire. “Eh, I figured it was better than reruns of the Golden Girls!”
“Hey!” I hollered. “Those bitches rock!”
“You would know!”
I smiled, happy to see him bouncing back. “Asshole!”
Bending the fencing for us to fit through, Art warned, “Wait for the sign. Then run!”
“What sign?” asked Giver,
but Art was already gone.
When I relayed the plan to Torque, he asked, “What sign?”
Giver and I both shrugged, until a van, on mother-fucking-fire, raced past the working bay to where we could see it and through the compound’s opening, crashing into running bikers.
In shock, we stalled for a second, then shielded our eyes as the van blew sky high.
“Holy shit!” yelled an impressed Giver.
I chuckled, so proud. “I think that was our sign.”
Helping each other, we all got to the gate and crawled through the hole.
Wincing, Crow teased, “I’m sure glad Meatball ain’t with us. He’d never fit.”
Meatball suddenly appeared on the side of the building. “Really? We’re at Death’s door, and I have to go down hearing you fuckers tease about my ever-growing waistline?”
Getting to my feet, I listened as Lynx asked, “We missing anyone?”
We huddled at the end of the building while Meatball explained, “Dagger and Vice are pinned but are safe as can be. Ryders on the rooftop are shooting anyone who gets remotely close.”
Torque peeked around the corner of the building when we heard bikes roaring to life. “They’re running!”
We all took off on foot, trying to shoot anyone our bullets would reach. We stopped shooting when seeing Diesel in the road, roaring mad, shooting at those fleeing until his gun ran out of bullets. We joined him and all remaining bikers, including Dagger and Vice.
Enough bikes, some double-loaded due to the carnage of metal and bodies at our feet, got away to give the Redemption Ryders’ President cause for concern. He pointed to headlights. “That fucker just promised retaliation against someone from this town. Could be another bluff, but we ain’t takin’ chances. For those who have families, get your ass to them now.” Some Ryders took off running toward where their bikes had been stored for safety. “The rest of you, get to locations of friends we have under protection—”
Art ran up to us. “Delilah is at her dad’s, so I’m headed to Jazebelle’s—”
I noticed Giver take a sharp inhale.
“—but I just got word Boxer Boy caught an early flight home. He will be there soon.”
“Shit,” grumbled Diesel until he looked at Giver and me. Then he pointed. “Seeing how you were just there, head back. I think he’s way down on their radar, but don’t get involved if anything goes down. Make a call. I don’t need my sister or Delilah knowing you’re alive.” Before I could argue since that was not the best move for Dick’s sake, Diesel told everyone, “I was supposed to go to the Ward’s anyway, so I’ll grab V and Tuck.”
Dagger, looking dirty and bloody, teased, “You had dinner plans?” while gesturing to the mayhem.
“It’s not like I el went-o. Stop chompin’ on my dick.”
Without time to assess injuries, or what kind of shape the two clubs were in, we reloaded guns and got more ammo from Diesel’s stash, then were all off on the hunt again. Giver’s bike hadn’t wanted to start right away since it had been on its side, but Giver got him to eventually cooperate. As I rode bitch, I hoped my own bike was still safely hidden.
Down the street from Maverick and Delilah’s house, we parked Giver’s bike in the trees but didn’t get off. There was no sign of intruders, so we just sat quietly in case any showed up. Tired, leaning against his back, I touched the wound on his shoulder where a bullet had grazed him. “Will you let me patch this up?”
“Will you—”
He dropped his head forward, so I finished for him. “Stop fucking Dick?”
“Sorry.”
I kissed his back. “I’ll forgive you if you forgive me.”
His back expanded against my cheek as he took a deep inhale. “Deal.” After studying our surroundings for a bit, he asked, “What’s it like to be with him?”
My throat tightened because that was such a complicated question. “Confusing. His body. His smell… It’s my husband. His touch. His words. His mannerisms… are his own, yet also part of my husband.”
Giver sounded sad, yet caring. “That sounds impossible to understand unless you live it.”
Around his waist, I laid my hands on his thighs. “You’re probably right. But it’s my life.”
“You regret that life, babe?”
“Only when loving Dick hurts you.”
After a moment of silence, Giver admitted, “I don’t want a hall pass.”
My eyes drifted shut because I knew we were taking another wonderful step in our relationship. I knew Giver would overlook any possible future indiscretions with his alter ego. “Good. Because I was totally bluffing.”
Me not sharing him made him laugh. “That’s my girl.”
I nodded, his leather rubbing my skin. “Yeah, I’m your girl, Giver. In fact, your girl is going to go get your helmet.” I got off the bike, pleased he did, too.
We both walked through the woods and toward where Giver had his unfortunate temper tantrum. And where I saw his helmet land. “Who is Jazebelle?”
Giver exhaled, “Just a friend from the past. Little pixie of a thing.” He chuckled. “We used to think she was dating twins.”
“Twins?”
“Yep, Nash and Nelson. Possessive little fuckers.”
I bent down and grabbed his helmet. “Meaning?”
Walking back toward the bike, Giver explained, “It was like they were always fighting over her, even though the three were supposedly just friends.”
“Uhh, sounds kinky.”
Laughing, and totally jealous, he threw an arm around my neck and yanked me to him. “Oh yeah? You want some twin action?” I melted to his side, loving how he felt and smelled—leather and man. “Dick ain’t enough for you?”
Dick in my life was finally funny. I laughed freely! “You’re right! I got the best of both worlds!”
Giver quickly looked over his shoulder. “We got company.”
Headlights turned a corner and headed down Delilah’s road. “Maybe an airport car service?”
Letting each other go to palm guns, I dropped the helmet at the bike as we ran past it and toward the house.
Giver whispered, “Thinkin’ you’re right. A man is in the backseat.”
Pulling out my cell, I quickly googled ‘professional boxer’ living in that little town of GA. Immediately, Maverick Hutton appeared. I clicked on an image, then showed Giver. “This is what he looks like.”
When the car pulled into the driveaway, we stopped running so we weren’t heard trampling through the brush but were close enough to hear, “Thanks, man,” as a big guy with a wide frame and impressively built arms got out of the car. Carrying a medium-sized duffle bag, he shut the door and headed for the front door of the house.
“That’s him,” confirmed Giver.
Not even two minutes later, the garage door was opening. The very well-built guy was walking out of the garage with a cell to his ear. He paced, running fingers through his dark hair. As soon as he heard something on the phone, he stopped and bit out, “Where the fuck is my wife, and why is she not answering her goddamn phone?” He listened for a few seconds, then added, “Someone better start fucking talking to me!”
Next to Giver, I whispered, “He sounds like an asshole.”
But then the guy sighed, hundreds of pounds melting off his tensed shoulders. “Oh, thank fuck! The dark house scared the shit out of me.” His head jerked back. “Plan B?” Listening, he started smiling. “Shit! Plan B. Okay, uh… I got it! I’ll just jump in my truck and surprise her there.” After a few seconds, Boxer Boy’s head slightly wobbled on his neck, showing a very playful side. “Thank you. I’ve been told I’m quick on my feet.” He did the little light-on-his-feet boxing move I’d seen in the ring.
I muffled a giggle, thinking it was cute.
The biker at my side quietly mumbled, “What a putz.”
Boxer Boy was far from a putz. He was actually fucking hot as hell, and the size of a man to back up anything he did, including h
is playful side. “I’m glad to hear you think so, Tuck.”
Giver bitched, “How’s Tuck liking this guy?”
Oh. This has nothing to do with Delilah.
Maverick had deep dimples when he smiled. “Love Bug, ya there?”
“Love Bug?” grumbled Giver. “You’re lucky you married a biker, babe.”
As fine as Boxer Boy was, he was no fucking James Gunn Dalton.
Just then, the sky opened up. Rain poured down. There was nothing we could do to find shelter. We had a job, but Maverick ran back inside.
Giver and I sighed, believing all was well, until three single headlights got my attention. I smacked the side of Giver’s thigh. He looked over, then tensed, then he looked to my phone again. We stared at Maverick’s picture. Giver groaned, “Babe, they picked the only one in the public’s eye.”
We both now stared at the house. I pleaded, “Don’t come out… Don’t come out…”
But he and fate wouldn’t have it in our favor that night.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
That big ol’ baboon came running out through the garage, jumped in his truck, hit a button on his visor to close the garage door, then backed up, completely unaware of his life being in danger.
“The dumbass ain’t even buckling up.”
Justice snarked, “Says the one who tossed away his helmet?”
Watching him drive by us, I was still hoping that the waiting motorcycles were a mirage both Justice and I happened to see.
No such luck.
Soon after Maverick pulled out onto the next road, three bikes began to tail him.
Damnit. I’m supposed to stay out of this. I started running. “Babe, call our boys.”
Running behind me, she spoke into her cell, “Hey, they’re after Boxer Boy.” After snatching up my helmet, I hopped onto my bike and started the engine as Justice jumped on behind me. “Yeah,” she confirmed, “three of ‘em.” She tapped my shoulder. “We’re to follow but not engage. They’re coming.”
Keeping my headlight off, I pulled out of the trees and added to the growing chain of vehicles but kept some distance. We needed to keep tabs until someone—who wasn’t supposed to be dead—could arrive and intervene. I told Justice what road we were on, but Stallions weren’t from this town and weren’t as familiar with the area as I was. The back roads were ones they wouldn’t recognize, so I started telling her of bigger ones that were close by to where we were. If the boys were in the vicinity, at least we had a chance of them eventually reaching us. Hopefully, in time.
Bleed Me (Haunted Roads Book 3) Page 28