by Joanna Wylde
“It’s dark, there’s freezing rain, and all you have is a handgun,” Hunter replied, his voice dry. “Nobody’s a good shot under those conditions. Just stay low, sweetheart. I’m gonna try and get loose, but I’m thinkin’ they’ll have to cut me out of this one. If I die in this truck, don’t tell Skid I got my ass kicked by a tree, okay?”
I snorted, then giggled. Obviously he’d lost his mind. I tried to stay quiet but another giggle broke free. Then Hunter stuck out his tongue at me, and I laughed out loud, tears rolling down my face.
“You’re crazy,” I said, wiping my face with the back of my hand.
“Maybe,” he said, giving me his crooked smile. “But nothing burns off tension like a laugh. You think you can reach my seat belt?”
I leaned out of the footwell and dug around through the pine needles, ducking my head down to get a better look. In that instant, a bullet punched through the windshield into the passenger seat, passing through right where I’d been just seconds before.
I froze.
“Goddammit,” Hunter said, suddenly thrashing to get free. “Holy fuck, I cannot believe this.”
I fumbled for his seat belt urgently. Crap. CRAP. Just because I knew how to shoot a gun didn’t mean I was ready for a fucking firefight. Another shot tore through the glass, this time closer to Hunter’s head. So much for all that cover … Or were they just shooting randomly? I couldn’t figure out how they could possibly see us.
“Back in the footwell,” Hunter ordered, and his voice didn’t leave any room for negotiation. “Keep the gun handy. I don’t know if you’ll get a chance to shoot, but if you do, I want you ready.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, a sniper’s not gonna come in close unless he has to,” Hunter said. “Which means ideally—from his perspective—you’re dead without ever making eye contact. Right now this one doesn’t have a clear target, so that’s in our favor. We just need to hold on for a couple minutes, until the Reapers get here.”
Another bullet came through, winging Hunter’s ear.
“Fuck,” he muttered as blood started pouring out.
I gave a sobbing gasp.
“Emmy, you have to hold your shit together,” he said, his voice sharp. “I love you, babe. I can’t hide or defend myself, so I need you safe in that footwell. Then if he hits me you’re alive to save me. Hold your shit together for me, sweetheart. I need you to hold it together.”
I took a deep breath and nodded, although I knew he was lying again. If the sniper hit him, it would be a headshot—Hunter wouldn’t have a chance. He was just trying to protect me. Ridiculous. Like a footwell would stop a bullet, anyway? I racked my brain, trying to think of some way to protect us.
This was insane—I had to do something or we’d die out here. I looked up through the rain at the open passenger window. We needed a distraction. I eased out of my hidey-hole.
“Stay down, Em,” Hunter said, his voice cracking like a whip. I ignored him, checking the gun to make sure it was ready. All good. I slid into position expecting another shot to hit any second, crouching with one foot on the side of Hunter’s seat and the other on the inside wall of the well. I counted to three, then popped up and shot four times into the darkness.
I dropped back down, gasping.
Hunter blew up.
“What the fuck was that about?”
“I want him to know we’re armed,” I said. “Playing possum only works if they don’t know what they’re doing. I’ll bet a hundred dollars his orders are to make damned sure we’re dead, and I’m not just going to sit and wait for some asshole to put a bullet in my brain.”
“He could’ve shot you, Em.”
I stared at him, trying not to let out the hysterical laughter I felt bubbling up deep inside.
“Seriously, babe? That’s your argument? That’s a fucking bullet hole about an inch from your face, and let’s not mention the ear. Getting shot is almost a given at this point, more of a when than an if. We need to hold out for Dad, and now that our sniper knows we can fight back, he’ll have to be more cautious about approaching the truck. That’ll slow him down, which might make the difference for us.”
“So your solution is to play Whac-a-Mole with a murderer?”
“Hunter?”
“Yeah?”
“It’s done.”
“Fuck, but you piss me off,” he muttered. His body twisted, and then he kicked out, hard. “Fuck!”
Long seconds passed, and I started shivering as the icy rain soaked my shirt. Maybe I should shut the window? No … At least this way maybe we’d hear something if they got too close.
Hunter kicked the truck again, rocking it slightly.
“Well, let’s look on the bright side,” I said, deciding he needed a distraction.
“Don’t.”
“The good news is that we’ll probably be either rescued or dead before we have to worry about serious hypothermia. There’s always a silver lining, Hunter.”
He growled at me again.
Men.
Chapter Eighteen
HUNTER
I don’t think I’ve ever been so pissed off in my life.
Em frustrated me so much I wanted to strangle her, maybe save our sniper the trouble. I was angry with myself, too, because I should’ve been able to control the fucking truck. Now instead of protecting my woman, I was stuck watching her crouch over me with a gun, ice building up in her hair as her lips turned blue.
All because I’d been captured by a fucking tree.
Another shot rang out, although this time it didn’t hit the truck. At least that was something … Although if I died tonight without protecting her, I hoped to hell I’d find a way to come back and haunt Picnic Hayes. I’d use my ghostly powers to make him desecrate my useless fucking corpse.
More shots. Then shouting.
“Em!” I heard someone yell. She rose slightly.
“No,” I said, voice cracking. “Stay down until they find the shooter. Just call out. Let them know we’re okay, but under fire. Safer that way.”
“We’re safe!” she bellowed, so loud it hurt my ears. “The sniper hit the truck at least three times, so be really fucking careful. Also, I have a gun. Identify yourselves before coming too close, or I’ll shoot you myself.”
“Hang tight, kiddo,” I heard a deep voice yell back. “We’re comin’ for you.”
He sounded familiar … Then I placed him. Duck. Old guy I’d met when I negotiated with the Reapers for Em’s release.
“Do you think they’ll be able to find him?” Em asked. Her teeth started chattering. Shit, at least I had my pine needle blanket …
“No idea,” I told her. “If he’s smart, he’s already taken off. He could stay out there and try picking them off, but weather like this sucks for everyone.”
Then I noticed her hands had started trembling. From the cold or adrenaline—didn’t matter which.
“I think you should set down the gun.”
“Nope.”
“Don’t shoot me by accident, please.”
Em looked down and smiled, still gorgeous despite the icicles building up in her hair. In the faint light from the dashboard, I could see that her lips were blue, her nose was red, and her shirt was soaked through. Not the best time for a wet T-shirt contest, but her tits looked outstanding.
“I promise,” she said softly, biting her lip. “I will never shoot you by accident.”
I considered her response.
“That’s less comforting than you’d think.”
Several more shots rang out, and then we heard a high-pitched, agonized scream.
“Holy shit,” Em whispered, smile gone. Her eyes were huge, and she brought the gun back up, finger moving to the trigger. Then someone shouted through the darkness. Someone close.
“Em, it’s Painter.”
Seriously? Fucking Painter was going to rescue us?
And right there I had it—proof that God’s a twisty bastard.
>
“Did you get him?” Em yelled back.
“We got one of them,” Painter said. “No way to know if there’s more. But we’re searching. Prez says to get you out, take you back to the Armory while we look for a second sniper.”
“We’re going to need a chainsaw or something,” she yelled. “Hunter’s trapped.”
“He alive?”
He sounded a little too cheerful when he asked the question.
“Yes, he’s fine,” she replied.
“I’m fuckin’ great,” I yelled out. “Get Em out of here!”
“Okay, I’m right by the truck now,” Painter called back. “I’m gonna climb up and look inside. Put down your gun, Em.”
Em lowered the gun, but I noticed she didn’t let it go. She gave me a quick glance, offering a smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes.
“What’s that about?” I asked quietly.
“Painter isn’t my dad,” she replied. “He hasn’t made any promises about your safety.”
“You’re going to hold a gun on Painter while he’s trying to rescue you?”
“No, I’m going to protect my old man while he’s stuck under a tree. Consider me your life insurance, babe. If I leave, Painter’s got no reason to keep you alive and nobody to witness what he does to you. I’m staying put until my dad gets here.”
The truck lurched and Painter leaned over the open passenger-side window, taking in the situation. First he gave Em a quick once-over, probably checking for blood or obvious wounds. Then his gaze turned to me, eyes predatory. I stared him down, wordlessly telling him that I saw right through his shit. He gave me a chin lift, then turned his attention back to Em.
“Take my hand,” Painter said, reaching toward her. “We’ll get you to the Armory. Ruger can go back and grab the tools we’ll need to cut out your boyfriend, but you need to get warm.”
She shook her head.
“I want Dad.”
“He’s kind of busy right now.”
“Nope,” she said, lifting the gun from her side and balancing it carefully on her knee with both hands. She wasn’t pointing it at anyone, but it wasn’t the friendliest of stances, either. “I’m staying with my old man until Dad gets here.”
Painter flinched. Heh.
I hated that cocksucker. I really did.
“Will you please go get him?” Em asked, her voice like very polite granite. She might be scared as hell, but she wasn’t showing any weakness. “I’m not going anywhere without my dad.”
“Screw this,” Painter muttered, shaking his head. “I’ll be back in a few. Enjoy the fuckin’ cold while you wait, Em.”
She relaxed visibly as he jumped down off the truck.
“You okay?” I asked. “I really wish you’d go with him.”
Em rolled her eyes, waving off my concern with one bluish hand.
“No fucking way,” she said. “I leave, you got no witnesses. Painter hates you. Ruger’s not too fond of you, either, and he’s the one with the chainsaw. Anyone decides to kill you, they’ll be going through me first.”
“Babe, I say this with all due respect. You scare the shit out of me.”
She reached down and touched my cheek, and I turned my head to kiss her fingers.
“Emmy, it’s Dad,” I heard Hayes call out. Then I felt the truck shift as he climbed up to look through the window. “Painter said you won’t put down your gun and go to the Armory.”
“Thank God,” she said, her voice full of relief. She’d been closer to the edge than I realized. “I’m so glad you’re here. I won’t leave Hunter with anyone but you. But I’m really cold … Not sure how much longer I can last out here.”
I couldn’t see his face well in the darkness, but I had a feeling I’d recognize the expression—the same mixture of love and frustration I’d seen in the mirror a hundred times since I’d met her.
“Emmy, nobody is going to hurt Hunter,” the Reapers president said. “I gave my word.”
“Would Mom have left you behind?” she asked, her voice a challenge.
He sighed heavily, then reached down to take her hand.
“Nope,” he said. “That’s why I wanted you with a Reaper, honey. We really can’t afford not to have you on our side. You remind me more of her every day.”
EM
It felt good to be back in the Armory again. Better than I expected. Of course, it probably didn’t hurt that I’d been met at the door by Dancer, Marie, Kit, and Maggs. Sophie was upstairs with the kids, who were constructing a mighty campsite in the game room on the second floor.
Horse had given me a ride home, stepping inside long enough to catch Marie and stick his cold hands on her stomach. She’d shrieked and swatted at him until he caught her close for a long, hard kiss. Then he’d headed back out into the rain, leaving me dripping in the center of the kitchen. Dancer wrapped a blanket around me, and Marie handed me a cup of hot coffee. I found myself shivering so hard my jaw hurt.
“So what the hell happened?” Dancer asked, settling me on a stool. “The guys ran out of here like the world was ending.”
“Someone shot out our tires,” I told her. Wow, saying it out loud made it sound so … insane. “Hunter was driving, and the truck started sliding on the ice. We went off the road. A tree pinned him inside the truck—he’s still there—and I called for help. That’s when whoever shot the tires started shooting at us.”
The women all stared at me, eyes wide.
“That’s some serious shit,” Kit said slowly. “But you’re okay? And Hunter, too?”
I nodded.
“Yeah, but they’ll have to cut him out.”
Kit tapped her fingers against the counter nervously.
“Did you know a Devil’s Jack has been seen around town?” she asked. “And I guess they spotted him earlier tonight, right after someone took potshots at Dancer and Bam Bam’s house.”
My eyes widened.
“They shot at your house?” I asked Dancer, stunned. “With the kids there?”
“Yes,” Dancer said, her face more serious than I’d ever seen it. “Em, I love you, but I don’t understand how you could be with a man who’s part of that club.”
I stiffened.
“The man who shot at your house wasn’t a Devil’s Jack,” I said firmly. “Hunter told me he wasn’t. He says that someone else is trying to set us all up for a war. They want peace—they need peace, or their club won’t survive.”
The women exchanged looks, and Marie coughed nervously. Great. Now they all thought I was a gullible idiot.
“Anyone want a drink?” Maggs asked brightly. “I could use a shot.”
“Grab the bottle,” Kit said, reaching out to take my hand. I tugged it away from her, frustrated.
“Just don’t make any judgments until we have the full story,” I told them. “You don’t know what happened out there. Remember, the sniper tried to kill Hunter, too.”
“I guess we’ll see,” Marie said. “It’s good to have you back, Em. The good news is we all brought food with us—whatever else happens, we can celebrate the holiday together instead of just canceling everything.”
Perfect, I thought. Just what I needed. Now everyone could spend tomorrow glaring at me and Hunter, blaming him for everything that’d gone wrong for the Reapers during the last twenty years. And with his truck all busted up, it wasn’t like we could leave. Maybe I could rent a car …
“Drink?” Maggs asked again, her tone forced. I shook my head. I already had a headache. The last thing I needed was to throw a hangover into the mix.
Grown-up life was complicated.
HUNTER
By the time they pulled me out of the truck, my nuts were the size of raisins. Fuckin’ cold out there. Despite that, I remembered to grab our bags from behind the truck’s seats. I also grabbed my Devil’s Jacks cut, folding it carefully over my arm before climbing up the bank. Hayes had an SUV waiting for me. At least, I hoped the SUV was for me. A black cargo van had been parked there,
too, reminding me of the one we’d used to kidnap Em and Sophie.
Not the most encouraging of sights.
When I reached the top, I found Hayes. He eyed my colors but didn’t say anything. He also didn’t tell me which vehicle would be carrying me to the Armory. I knew he’d promised Em that he’d keep me alive, but it seemed likely that my comfort wasn’t part of the deal.
“You catch the shooter?” I asked him.
“Shooter’s in the van,” he said. “But you’ll ride with me. C’mon.”
I followed him to the SUV—score one for me. Hopefully it was a good sign. Horse and Painter joined us in the backseat. Nobody spoke to me on the short, tense drive to the Armory, which was just fine. The night was far from over, but I’d had plenty of time in the truck to consider my strategy. I’d been in situations like this before, although usually on the other side. I knew better than to show weakness or volunteer information.
On the bright side, at least I wouldn’t have to waste any time looking for the asshole pretending to be one of my brothers. He was in the van, I was almost certain of it. Smart money said once they took him into the Armory, he wouldn’t be coming back out, which saved me even more time.
We passed through a gate in the building’s courtyard wall. Em was somewhere inside, hopefully snug and warm, surrounded by her girls. Just the thought of her exposed in that truck, the way those shots had blasted through the windshield, chilled my blood.
This love shit sucked.
Now it wasn’t enough I had to watch out for Kelsey, I had to keep Em covered, too. This was why I’d never had pets. Too much work. Hayes stopped the rig, turning it off and looking at me.
“Come inside?” he asked, as if I had a choice.
“Sounds good,” I replied, opening my door. I stepped out to find us parked next to a sunken stairwell leading under the building.
Nothing ominous about that, right?
They’d packed our bags away in the back of the vehicle, which meant I didn’t have access to my spare sidearm. At least they hadn’t searched me. I considered that a good sign, seeing as the hunting knife on my hip wasn’t exactly subtle.