“Mommie!” Little Man screamed, walking amongst the dead and wounded. Outlaw didn’t seem to notice him, too busy cradling Meggie’s limp body.
The kid’s cries and his calls for ‘MegAnn’ and ‘Law’ mingled with the groans of the injured and voices of the survivors.
Needing to find Mort, Digger inched into the open, just as a bloodied girl with long brown hair stumbled into his line of vision.
“Little Man,” Bunny cried, intermittent gunfire beginning again.
Unable to pinpoint anyone’s locations anymore, Digger regretted losing sight of his father and the mercenaries. Knowing the positions of the club members would help, too. They could all be moving forward to meet up in the middle and create one, big bloodbath.
Outlaw’s son wandered closer to Digger, paying Bunny no attention. Tears streaked her cheeks as she dropped to the ground and crawled behind the kid.
“Kill the boy.” Sharper’s voice blared into Digger’s earpiece. “You do it or I will.”
Glancing around, Digger noted Sharper’s position—nine o’clock and five feet away behind another tree.
He met his father’s gaze. Sharper nodded to Digger, warning him without words to commence now. Digger’s moment had arrived to show where his loyalties lay and redeem himself in Mort’s and Outlaw’s eyes, even if Digger had to sacrifice himself in the process. Unless a miracle happened, he had no chance of survival. Either Outlaw would kill him or Sharper. Maybe, even Peyton, Osti, or Tyler. First, he needed to save Little Man.
Digger nodded to his father and raised his gun, firing, his target on the mark enough where he missed both Bunny and Little Man but made it seem as if he’d done it by accident.
Bunny lunged for the kid, covering him with her body, as rapid gunfire started once more from all directions. Mort appeared from behind a tree, blowing his cover to protect Outlaw, who hadn’t moved away from Meggie.
“Mark!” Tyler stopped Digger’s forward motion to get Outlaw’s son out of danger. “I’m going to kill him!” Bloodlust hardened his voice.
Digger followed Tyler’s gaze and his heart sank, his worse fears coming to life. Fuck. The him Tyler wanted to kill was Mortician.
“Tyler, no!” Digger shouted, just as he and Cash caught sight of one another.
A bullet whizzed past him, aiming for Little Man, but too high. Another bullet, this time from Cash, brushed too close to Digger’s head and sent bark flying.
The distraction gave Tyler time to slip away, weapon poised.
“Fuck!” Gun in hand, Digger scooped up Little Man, surprised when Bunny grabbed his legs and toppled him, fucking up his intentions to move the child out of the crossfire. Gunfire from behind him halted Cash’s advance and he dove for cover.
“You sonofabitch!” Bunny screamed through her tears, digging her nails into Digger’s jaws and scratching. “You’re not hurting him.”
The shock of her attack almost made him lose his grip on the struggling kid.
“Die, Lucas!” Tyler yelled, squeezing the trigger once before he dropped to the ground and disappeared in a cloud of blood.
“Tyler!” Digger hollered, still unable to release Outlaw’s son, knowing, if he did, the kid was dead.
His nephew’s groan floated to him and Digger sagged in relief, prioritizing the situation in his head. He’d find a safe haven for Little Man, then see to his nephew. If he could get to him…get him back to Mortician…the kid could be redeemed. He couldn’t die out here.
But, fuck, Digger couldn’t move. Between Bunny’s hold and Little Man’s kicking, he had no chance to go to Tyler and stop the blood flowing from his head.
Sharper paused over Tyler. Instead of bending to help him, he fired more rounds into his body, extinguishing all hope that Tyler might survive.
A bullet knocked Sharper back, but not completely. Shock marched across his face as blood spread along his arm. Ducking for cover, he turned to where Digger stood, narrowing his eyes at Outlaw’s son. He aimed the gun at the child’s head.
Shaking off the images, the horror, the hurt, Digger made a snap decision and shoved the boy to the ground. Another round of bullets fired and he prayed his father went down in the hail. Bunny grabbed Little Man in her arms and rolled backward. Not taking any chances, Digger followed Bunny, reaching her quickly. He jammed the gun her head, determined to escape before Sharper found a way to kill Bunny and Little Man.
“Get the kid,” Digger snarled, low, his insides shaking but his hand steady. “Come with me or I’m blowing you the fuck away.”
Peyton missed hitting Goldilocks in the head. At the last moment, the bitch moved. Or, maybe, Peyton had just been a bad shot, underestimating the girl’s height.
Drowning out the shouts, the gunfire, the screaming women and kids, and the growling dogs, Peyton crept closer to where Outlaw cradled Megan. He didn’t give a fuck that he was a sitting duck.
Where was Sharper? His goal had been achieved. Outlaw was suffering, falling to pieces, watching his wife die. Or…? Did Sharper want Outlaw to see his children die, too? Peyton couldn’t remember.
Perhaps, that explained why none of the others had taken a shot at Outlaw.
But what about the kids? Why hadn’t they been cut down yet? Six children mingled amongst the dead and dying, their snotty little noses glistening even in the gray day. She didn’t know all the kids, but she recognized some of them. Harley with her head of black hair, cried over her mother, shaking her arm. The blonde-headed Rebel and her black-haired twin clung to Outlaw’s legs.
Peyton doubted he knew he laid Megan on the ground and lifted his twins into his arms, hugging them tightly to him. His shoulders were shaking as he turned and ran with them inside the house, reappearing mere moments later, still in an absolute fog. The children stood in the doorway, screaming for him and their mother.
“Stay!” he ordered, calling out, “CJ, where you at?”
Yes, where was CJ? A quick glance revealed nothing.
Outlaw rounded up the other children and got them into the house, continuing to yell for his son.
As if he was so concerned for him. Once he got the children inside—minus CJ—he headed back toward Megan.
With more time, Peyton would sit back and confirm Goldilocks no longer breathed. But Peyton needed to escape. She felt as if she were the only one inside the gate of Outlaw’s property. The others had probably retreated to raid the clubhouse and find those fucking letters and that key.
Determined to shoot Megan up close and personal, Peyton closed the distance between where she stood and where the girl lay. Nothing but the warmth of her blood against Peyton’s skin would be acceptable. Then, maybe, she’d kill Outlaw…or take him hostage, fuck him, and make him beg for mercy before she shot him to death for abandoning Ellen.
So lost in her bloody vision, she didn’t realize he’d spotted her, didn’t know he’d reached her until her wrist snapped and her gun clattered to the ground. Her gaze flew to Outlaw’s as his big hand grabbed her throat.
She stared into his green eyes, blazing with madness and fury, the wrath of hell shining in his depths. Fear slid into her and she whimpered.
She didn’t want to die!
She didn’t. All she’d wanted…What she wanted no longer mattered.
After two big errors in her quest to avenge Ellen, this third would be her greatest.
Mistake number three would cost her life.
“Mark!” Peyton’s scream stopped Digger.
“You fuckin’ cunt.”
Digger blinked at Outlaw’s yell, his hand trembling, caught between forcing Bunny and Little Man to the nearest car or remaining still to watch Outlaw. One good thing about the prospects parking the cars were the keys remained in them in the event they needed to be moved to make room for bikes.
“C’mon, baby boy,” Bunny whimpered, pulling Little Man against her body.
Digger did a quick look around, searching for Peyton and Outlaw. When he found them, he saw no sign of
Meggie. Only...
Peyton, who’d shot Outlaw’s wife. And corrupted Tyler. Peyton, who’d once made Digger laugh and smile and not feel so alone.
Although the man had a gun to her head, he wrapped his hand around her neck, strangling her. Bodies littered the grounds, including one the dogs had brought down. His stomach turned, and he knew the exact moment Peyton’s life ended.
She went limp. Still, Outlaw held onto her throat, gun pressed to her temple. His eyes were wild and tears streaked his face. There would be no getting through to him now. Meggie might’ve been the catalyst for all the bad the club experienced, but she was the only one who could rein Outlaw in, remind him he had some humanity left in him. But she wasn’t able to talk him through his madness, so Outlaw pulled the trigger and let her body drop to the ground.
Pushing the scene out of his head, Digger refocused on Bunny. “One move and I shoot.”
She tightened her hold on Outlaw’s son.
Not wasting time, Digger pushed them into the car and peeled out. Sirens blared in the distance, but he knew at least two people who were beyond saving. Perhaps, they all were.
The moment that cunt’s faceless body fell in a heap to the ground, Christopher turned back to his wife and gathered her into his arms, blocking out the screams of the kids, the barking of the dogs, and the blaring of the sirens. Megan’s blood warmed his arms and dampened his T-shirt. All before when she’d been hurt he’d gotten to her after. This time, he’d seen her get shot with his own two fucking eyes. His whole life had stopped. He couldn’t think or talk or do.
He wasn’t the MC President or psycho stalker wildman. He was just an ordinary motherfucker whose life meant nothing if he lost his girl.
“Prez!” Mortician called, his voice frantic and his eyes wild, as he ran to Christopher. “Bailey and Roxanne shot.”
Nosing Megan’s hair, Christopher squeezed his eyes shut, the tracks of his tears burning down his cheeks. From the close sounds, ambulances were already on club property and heading toward the private access road that led to their houses. Built so the girls could park their cars on their own properties. Right now, Christopher was grateful for the easy access.
Two ambulances and several police cruisers stopped in front of his house. He frowned as they barreled through his gate, remembering the dogs. By now, they should’ve been bounding toward unfamiliar motherfuckers.
Either they were dead or someone had taken care of them. Watching as the badges and the EMTs swarmed the place struck Christopher as odd. It was as if they’d been expecting this emergency. Or somebody had called and directed them here while the gun battle was happening. Concerned motherfuckers who heard the fucking gunfire could’ve done so, but…it didn’t fucking sit right with Christopher. Fuck, what the fuck was he thinking? It didn’t fucking matter who’d called. Megan needed help, so he ran with her to the closest emergency vehicle. Two techs were already rolling out a gurney.
“Save her,” he ordered, clearing his throat so he wouldn’t sound so fucking distraught. He laid her down and rested his head in the crook of her neck for a moment. He wanted to pray for her to live, but he didn’t know how. He’d never known how because he and God had fallen out years ago. Straightening, he glared at the emergency workers, who hadn’t touched her after he set her down. “This my Megan. Save her fucking life.”
“Prez!” Mortician called again as police officers headed in Christopher’s direction.
He ignored everyone. Megan needed to be loaded into the ambulance, now. She needed a hospital. He grabbed the fuckhead closest to him and shoved him toward Megan. “Get my wife to the motherfuckin’ ER,” he snarled.
The EMT snatched himself out of Christopher’s grasp. “Excuse me, sir!”
“Please, just do it.” Mortician sounded desperate.
“Work on her,” Mutt ordered. He was one of the cops in the club’s back pocket. There were others but Mutt and Jeff, as Johnnie called them, were in deep.
A second technician settled an oxygen mask over her mouth and nose.
“Fuckin’ do that in there!” Christopher ordered, indicating the ambulance with a thrust of his chin. “She need to be on the way to the fuckin’ hospital.”
“Prez!” Mortician called. “They got to stabilize her.”
“What happened here, Outlaw?” Mutt asked.
“What the fuck you mean?” Christopher barked. “What the fuck it look like? Some motherfucker got onto my grounds and shot up every-fuckin-thing. Shot Megan.” He knew he was losing his shit. As long as Megan…. “FUCK,” he screamed, thrusting his hands through his hair.
“Outlaw, get things in order here,” Mutt ordered, pity in his eyes. “They’ll do everything possible to save her.”
Before Christopher could tell him to go fuck himself, Mortician spoke again.
“They all down!” he yelled. “John Boy, Val, Arrow, Stretch, Red, Chester, my woman, my momma-in-law. EVERYBODY.”
“Not Slipper and his boys. Get them the fuck here.” His voice cracked around the order.
“Fuck!” The groan captured Christopher’s attention and he turned to find Johnnie swaying behind him, his side bloodied and his eyes glazed. He bent, in obvious pain, searching in all directions, despite his weakness.
“Kendall? Where’s my wife?” Cold fury threaded through the fear in Johnnie’s voice. “Where’s my woman and my son, Christopher?”
Shit was happening too fucking fast, yet creeping by in motherfucking slow motion. Christopher didn’t know a goddamn, fucking thing except his Megan…
The contents of his stomach churned within him and he turned, hurling every-fucking-thing he’d eaten no more than ninety minutes ago. Breakfast Megan had cooked. She’d been so fucking excited about Bailey’s baby shower.
“Christy!” Zoann hollered, and the sound made him dizzy.
Didn’t these motherfuckers understand Megan’s grave injuries? She’d been shot in her fucking chest. Chest wounds were usually fucking fatal.
“Where’s Kendall?” Johnnie.
“Christy, please help me. Val’s shot. PLEASE!” Zoann.
“Prez, they getting Bailey on a stretcher. I need to go with my woman to the hospital.” Mortician.
“Outlaw, pull your head out of your ass,” Cash snarled, stepping in front of Christopher. “If you want your son back.”
Christopher stilled. It felt as if the little air left in his lungs flew out. He realized he was on his fucking knees and he didn’t care, not having the energy to move. Until now. He stared at Cash. “What the fuck you talkin’ ‘bout?”
“Digger took Little Man and Bunny, motherfucker. Get up. Help us—”
“Digger?” The horrified question belonged to Mort. “No, my brother wouldn’t—”
“I saw the motherfucker,” Cash snarled, breaking into Mortician’s denial. “None of you can go to the fucking hospital. Most of us are down. We have to get shit cleaned up here.”
“Sir, we’re transporting your wife in a few minutes,” the EMT he’d shoved told him. “You’re welcome to come and ride in the front.”
As if he walked into a nightmare, Christopher turned toward the vehicle.
“Prez, we need you here!”
“Outlaw, where are you going?”
“Christopher, where’s Kendall?”
“Christy! Val isn’t…come please!”
The voices buzzed in his head and blended together. He couldn’t make sense of who screamed what to him, of what any of them meant.
“You need to find your son, Outlaw.”
“Sir? We’re about to move Mrs. Caldwell.”
“You can’t leave, Prez!”
“Christopher, fuck! Let Megan go. Where’s Rory? Where’s my wife? You know where yours is. I need to find mine.”
“Go and look for Red, John Boy. That’s logic, motherfucker. My woman down, too.”
“Christy, please! Val won’t open his eyes. Please!”
Christopher blinked, all the words coming t
o him through a tunnel, where sound surrounded him but bounced off his eardrums. He shook his head to clear it, the crackling of radios and the flashing lights of the vehicles slipping past the white noise.
One thing became clear—he couldn’t be Megan’s husband because he had duties at the club. He couldn’t let someone else take over. The MC had been hit hard, leaving it to him to bring some order.
“Take her,” he managed, swallowing hard, tears hot on his cheeks. He couldn’t look at her again. If he did, he’d never let them leave without him.
Once they loaded her up and closed the doors, he focused on the ambulance, pressing his hand against the cold exterior. When the siren wailed, he backed away, allowing the vehicle containing his Megan to pull away. Without him. He stood, frozen, in agony, as if someone ripped his heart the fuck out.
By now, Bailey and Roxy laid on stretchers, oxygen masks covering their faces, the attendants running like hellhounds chased them. Another wail echoed through the dismal day.
“Christy.”
Christopher turned. Zoann clung to Val, blood staining her shoulder while his road captain lay motionless.
A snarl. A howl. He couldn’t describe the fucking sound coming from Johnnie when he saw Kendall, face down and unmoving. He’d located her because of the EMTs heading to her.
Christopher noted the first responders had checked two bodies and shook their heads, indicating the unidentified people were beyond help.
“Cash, take over. I can’t fuckin’ do this right now. My wife probably dead and my boy gone.”
He started to walk off as two more ambulances pulled away. Bailey and Roxy, he supposed.
At the clubhouse door, Mortician caught up with him. “Prez—”
“Get the fuck away from me,” he thundered, hating himself and Mortician. They’d both failed the club and their wives for a fuckhead who’d betrayed them again. He shouldn’t have listened to Megan or thought about how Mortician felt.
Megan’s soft-heart had most likely gotten her killed.
Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books Page 236