"It's all right," she heard Alex tell her through the gunfire. She felt his stubble brushing against her cheek, his lips at her ears. His arms had closed around her torso like a cage. "It's going to be all right. Just count to yourself, Ash. Start counting and don't stop counting."
She tried to take his advice.
One. Someone was screaming to God about his leg.
Two.
Three. Another round of gunfire broke out. This time more sporadic.
Four.
Five. She heard the roar of bikes tearing up the road toward them, kicking up dirt and gravel in their wake.
She kept counting. She didn't want to open her eyes. Didn’t want to think about what would happen if Alex's guys hadn't pulled through. If she and Alex were back in Jasper's hands.
She started counting with the rise and fall of Alex's chest. She fought to clear her mind of everything but the sensation of his body expanding and collapsing on top of her.
The gunshots continued. She heard shouts—from Alex’s men, from Jasper’s men. She heard the roar of the bikes’ motors die down to an idle, then cut out, beneath the cacophony of everything else.
As long as he was breathing, everything would be okay. She repeated that like a mantra.
She lost track of her count many times. But at long last everything was quiet.
Alex picked himself up slowly, and helped her to sit up. She still did not dare to open her eyes all the way. She kept them narrowed into slits, so all she could see was Alex's vague shape as he knelt down beside her, his hands tearing at the duct tape that kept her hands bound together.
Her lungs were not functioning properly. She was breathing in short, violent bursts. Her whole body still trembled from head to toe, the tremors violent. She could feel tears on her cheeks. So many tears.
She didn’t have to look to see the carnage. She didn’t know if it was quiet because there had been so many losses on both sides, or because there was simply nothing to say. In the wake of so much killing, maybe the only natural response was silence.
She had a gut feeling that none of Jasper’s guys had survived. From what she’d seen of the War Devils, her captors had been sorely outnumbered. That, and they had been attacking from a covered position. She realized that she was probably sitting right in the middle of a pile of corpses.
But she didn’t give a damn about any of Jasper’s men. She was only too happy that they would, in all likelihood, be rotting in hell. She couldn’t even muster too much concern for the War Devils—at least, not immediately.
The only thing she cared about was that she and Alex were both alive and that, at the end of the day, she would get to sweep Penny to her arms and hold her so tight and so close.
Because it was finally over.
Chapter 25
Cobra
Cobra glanced back at Ashleigh one more time, just to make sure that she was all right. Or, rather, to make sure she hadn’t completely broken down. He doubted she would be fully “all right” for a long time.
He’d pulled her back around the building to the place where the contingent of War Devils had parked their bikes; it was a spot that was hidden by the building. The Devils had managed to find a dilapidated section of the fence surrounding the complex and ride in through the back while Jasper and his guys were distracted. And now the spot they’d chosen seemed like a good place to take Ashleigh to get her away from the bloody scene that had just unfolded.
Cobra had stripped off his cut and wrapped her in it. He didn’t exactly know how the gesture was supposed to help, since it wasn’t exactly cold. He’d done it on an instinct. At least that instinct had seemed dead on. She’d curled into the leather vest, wrapping it around herself like a shield, and smiled at him weakly with gratitude.
“We’ll be out of here soon,” he’d promised her. “I just need to tie up a few loose ends.”
She’d nodded at that and settled against one of the guy’s bikes. She looked pale and out of it, but not entirely despondent. Cobra hated leaving her like that, but he needed to figure out with the other Devils how they were going to handle the mess on their hands.
Luckily, none of their guys had gone down in the shootout. From what he’d heard, it really had been over in a matter of seconds. But in their line of work, they all abided religiously by the double-tap rule: never assume that one bullet is enough. It often led to overkill and lead-riddled corpses, but it was a hell of a lot better than the alternative.
The only injury had, ironically, been to a guy named Lucky, who had taken a ricochet bullet to the arm. It hadn’t been a deep wound, just a graze, and one of the guys had been able to bind him up pretty quickly.
Cobra spotted Rocco in the group of War Devils. They were usually pretty fucking loud, so even under these circumstances it was strange to see so many of his brothers so quiet and somber. They all turned to him as he approached, most of them staring silently, waiting for him.
Cobra grasped Rocco’s hand in a firm handshake, clasping him on the shoulder as he did so. He didn’t have words to thank the man for all the trouble he’d gone through trying to help him out of this tight spot—essentially hunting down every War Devil in the area and getting them to burn up the roads to get to the complex in time. If it hadn’t been for Rocco, Cobra knew that he and Ashleigh wouldn’t still be standing.
“Fuck, man,” Rocco burst out, breaking the ominous silence. “That was the closest damn call yet. A couple of us almost busted a nut trying to get up here.”
Cobra looked around him. “Well, that’s why God gave you two,” he shot back. He trusted they’d get the message. That he owed them his life, and Ashleigh’s.
Rocco’s face split in a grin, and Cobra heard a chorus of low chuckles around him. “So, what the hell are we supposed to do about that mess back there?”
“You check for survivors?” Cobra demanded.
Rocco’s grin grew wider. “Well, there aren’t any out there,” he said, jerking his thumb back toward the open area where Cobra had met Jasper. “But you’ll never fucking guess what we rolled in on when we pulled in the back.”
Cobra cocked and eyebrow at Rocco. “What?” he demanded.
Another wave of laughter rippled through the group.
Rocco turned to the others. “You guys wanna start searching the buildings and cars? Zane, Axle, Ajax, come check on Big Bill with me.”
Cobra cast one last glance back at Ashleigh before falling into step behind Rocco.
Zane caught up to his side. The smaller man looked pissed. Cobra guessed he wasn’t exactly pleased with the way things had turned out. Cobra could understand where he was coming from. They all knew how little it took to lose a brother out on the road, and what he’d just asked of them—not to come save his ass, but to come save Ashleigh’s—had put them all in danger.
“I’m not going to be sorry for doing what I had to do,” Cobra told Zane quietly, so that Rocco couldn’t hear. “If you don’t like it, fine. But I wasn’t going to lose her. Not again.”
“I get it.”
Cobra hadn’t expected to hear that. And Zane didn’t say it grudgingly either. He sounded sincere.
“She’s not just a girl. She’s your girl. It’s just…shit, man, if that’s how you felt about her, what the hell were you doing fuckin’ around with us for all those years?”
Cobra didn’t really have a good answer anymore. It was like Ashleigh had said. If it had just been that he was afraid of Jasper, why hadn’t he tried to get back in contact with her covertly?
The truth was, he’d been so damned sure that she’d moved on. And he hadn’t wanted to waste a minute of his life in the heartbreak of having lost her. Leaving her, believing that they couldn’t be together because of something else—a blood-crazed drug lord who would hurt her to get to him—that had been easy. It was the universe’s fault then.
But trying to get back with her and having her reject him? Having no one to blame but himself? He hadn’t been man enough to fac
e that.
But he was now. No more games, no more pussyfooting around. He had another reason to be in her life now, and he was going to give her every reason to let him back in. Even if it took years. He was ready to put in the work. To fix the damage he’d caused.
“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Cobra told Zane. “We’re going to start over.”
Zane snorted. “She’s got a daughter, don’t she? You think she’s going to want to be within fifty miles of you after all this? Shit, man, she’s going to pick up and get the hell away from all this the moment you two get back to town.”
Zane’s words struck a nerve. The guy had a way of pushing Cobra’s buttons.
“You don’t know shit,” Cobra growled. “It’s not just her daughter, it’s my daughter. And we’re gonna work it out. She’s not some prissy little princess. She can handle all this and then some.”
Zane shrugged easily. “Hey, man, all I’m saying is that she’s a single mom who owns a bakery. Bottom line, she’s a mama bear and she’s gonna protect her baby however she can. You’re not exactly making a good case for yourself here.” Zane jerked his chin back in the general direction of all the bodies they’d just dropped.
Cobra didn’t respond, though it took a lot of restraint. It didn’t matter what Zane said or thought. He wasn’t a part of this.
Cobra refocused on figuring out where Rocco was leading them.
They’d almost reached the far corner of the property, way behind the abandoned warehouses, off in a corner of a dirt-and-dead-grass lawn. Big Bill, one of the War Devils, stood in front of what Cobra could only describe as a Porta John that had seen better days. Its blue plastic was faded and bleaching in parts from sun and weather, and there were streaks of dirt and dust all over it.
Big Bill grinned wolfishly at their approach. He didn’t get his nickname for nothing; he was a tall, burly man, towering at 6’11”, with a body a defensive linesman would envy. He had a bit of a beer gut too, but that extra weight only made him even more of an unmovable mountain, which was good for situations where intimidation was needed. His position in front of the Porta John couldn’t have been coincidental, which meant that God knew who or what was trapped inside.
“Yo Cobra,” he called out. “Everyone get out alive?”
“Far as I can tell,” Cobra answered, still scrutinizing the Porta John.
Big Bill barked out a hearty laugh. “Reminds me of El Fuste. Shit, Tomador didn’t see us coming at all. Stupid prick.” Big Bill spit on the ground. “But that’s what you get when you cross the Devils, eh?”
Cobra grinned wryly. El Fuste had been a few years back. It was a little town in Mexico, a favorite haunt of Tomador, one of the kingpins the Devils had been running drugs for. But Tomador had made the mistake of shortchanging one of the Devils after a run, and the Devils had set up an ambush to take Tomador and his whole organization out as punishment. Griffin, the MC president, usually liked the Devils to keep their hands clean, but he knew that there had to be exceptions, especially when the club’s reputation was on the line.
The El Fuste incident had sent a powerful message to most of the drug rings in the area. The War Devils didn’t have many problems with employers after that, not once word got around about how swift retribution was.
“Wasn’t quite as bloody as El Fuste,” Rocco remarked. “Still, feels good to remind fuckers like Jasper that you don’t mess with the War Devils. It’s a damned good thing Cobra called yesterday already for backup. We never would have made it if he’d waited any longer.” Rocco paused, his eyes widening slightly as if he’d just realized something. “Shit, you never found the drugs, did you?”
Cobra shrugged. “We got all the time in the world now to look. And if we don’t find them, it’s no skin off our backs.” He gestured to the Porta John. “What’s the deal with this?”
Rocco exchanged a toothy grin with Big Bill. “Let’s just say someone got caught with his pants down.”
That put a big, broad smile on Cobra’s face. He couldn’t help it. “No shit. One of Jasper’s guys was taking a dump?”
“Yep. Bear thought he heard someone in there, so we had a look, and sure as shit someone picked the wrong time for a potty break. So Big Bill knocked him out and let him stew in there. Figured he might be good for questioning. You know, it might be bad for you if Jasper’s little empire here grew another head and came after you for vengeance. I don’t think the ten guys we mowed down out there is all we have to worry about.”
“I bet the guy in there’ll be real eager to cut a deal once he sees the mess out there,” Cobra mused. “Hell, we could have him send out a call to Jasper’s lieutenants, have them all meet here thinking they’re divvying up the latest shipment or something. Or we tell them Jasper got into a bind, needs help. Whatever we need to say to get them all down here, guns blazing. Then call in an anonymous tip and let the cops do the dirty work.”
Rocco nodded along as Cobra hashed out the plan. “The lieutenants go to jail, and the cops draw their own conclusions about the corpses on the ground. The upper ranks collapse, the lower-downs scatter and go into hiding like the roaches they are. And our problem’s solved.”
Rocco turned to Big Bill. “He conscious in there?”
Big Bill shrugged nonchalantly. “How the hell should I know?” He stepped aside. “See for yourself.”
Rocco pulled back the door and glanced inside. Cobra peered around him, trying to get a good look at the guy.
Cobra saw an average-sized man slumped against the back of the Porta John. Even from his position behind Rocco, Cobra could see the fresh swollen bruise on the man’s jaw. Big Bill must have hit him pretty damn hard. At least his pants were up, Cobra thought.
Rocco pounded hard against the plastic of the Porta John. “Hey, sleeping beauty!” he yelled.
The man didn’t stir.
Rocco snorted. “Eh, we’ll take care of him later. We can take our time. We’re far enough out of the way that I don’t think we have to worry about the fuzz or anything.”
“Good thing this is Texas,” Ajax grunted. “No one’s going to worry much if they heard all that gunfire.”
“Yeah, they’ll probably just write it off as some drunk gun nut firing off out in the middle of nowhere.” Rocco slammed the door of the Porta John back shut. “You wanna get him nice and comfy in one of those warehouses, Bill?” Rocco turned back to Cobra. “We’ve got this handled, man, if you wanna go take care of your girl.”
Cobra locked forearms with Rocco and met the man square in the eyes again. “I owe you big, man.”
“You don’t owe me shit. You’d do the same for me. Any of you would.”
Cobra still didn’t release Rocco. “You sure you don’t need me here?”
“Get home, man. Get things straightened out with your old lady. We’ll take care of everything.”
Cobra nodded and let him go. Rocco was right. Now that the Devils had a plan of action, he needed to go see to Ashleigh.
# # #
He picked his way back over to where Ashleigh sat by the bikes. She didn’t look as if she’d moved since he’d left.
He stopped in his tracks a couple of yards back, wondering how he should approach her. She had, after all, just been kidnapped and survived a fucking shootout. And they hadn’t exactly made amends yet.
“Hey,” he called.
Ashleigh glanced up at him, her face still drawn and harrowed.
Cobra sidled up to her, doing his best to give her space. He didn’t even know where to start. Out of habit he reached for his cigarettes and pulled one out.
He was surprised when Ashleigh reached over to the pack without asking. With her slender fingers, she plucked one out and stuck it in her mouth. Cobra lifted a skeptical brow at her.
Ashleigh stared back unblinkingly, her eyes expectant.
Cobra shrugged to himself and pulled out his lighter, making sure to light hers before his own. He let the cigarette dangle in his mouth as he watched her, tra
nsfixed.
She took a deep drag off the cigarette, her eyes closing lightly and her head rolling back a little as she held the smoke in. With her head tilted like that, her face lit up by the sunlight, Cobra could see the trails of dried tears on her cheeks. Her red mane tumbled over her shoulders in a wild disarray. She was so goddamn gorgeous. He could see bits of dried grass in her hair, probably from when he’d practically tackled her to the ground. He fought the urge to reach out and brush it away.
He didn’t want to push anything. He wanted to prove to her that even now, after he’d been so damned close to losing her, he could still respect her boundaries.
Ashleigh exhaled slowly. The cloud of smoke temporarily obscured her face, and it seemed to Cobra that as it reemerged, the stiffness of her expression seemed to melt away—the worry, the horror. It was as if she’d packed all those emotions into the smoke itself and was now watching it evaporate into the air around her.
BAD INFLUENCE: A Dark Bad Boy Romance Page 48