Page 23 of Beautifully Shattered (Secrets & Scars #3)

“ H old on!”

I barely catch Ringo’s shout over the sharp crack of gunfire, a squeal leaping from my throat as he takes off, the sudden force nearly throwing me off him.

The roar of his engine smothers some of the chaos as we swerve past the SUVs and men firing into the pine forest. JD is right on our tail, and as we clear the last vehicle, a massive BOOM explodes behind us.

Whipping my head around, I catch sight of the rear SUV engulfed in flames, and a man running blindly, his whole body on fire, screaming in agony.

“Oh my God!” I cry as bile rises up my throat.

“Don’t look, Angel!” Ringo yells, gunning it as we speed past a cluster of rusted drums scattered across the road .

It’s not hard to tell that they were deliberately placed there, leaving no space for a car to get through, but enough room for a smaller vehicle… like a motorcycle.

Shit .

“I think it’s a trap!” I shout close to Ringo’s ear, hoping he’ll hear, and when he nods, I know he has.

“Fuck. I think you’re right.”

“We’ve got company!” JD bellows, coming up beside us, and I don’t need to look back to see, because the headlights in the rearview mirrors show me.

“Fucking Rebels!” Ringo roars, pushing the throttle harder as a pack of motorcycles chase us.

I cling to him, my muscles tight as my heart hammers, terrified we are going to lose control and crash, but as we round another bend, and Ringo starts slowing, I risk a look ahead.

There’s another roadblock, and this time, it’s a wall of bikers with their guns pointed right at us.

“Fuck, Angel.” Ringo’s hand grips my thigh, giving it a firm squeeze, and my heart sinks.

He knows we’re trapped. He knows there’s no way out of this.

We slow to a stop, and the motorcycles behind us do the same, staying back as a man up front steps forward wearing a cut the same as those guys we killed in the hospital.

Satan’s Rebels.

“Give us the girl and we’ll let you live!” he shouts, and a whimper slips past my lips before I can stop it.

Ringo’s hand tightens on my thigh, silently telling me he won’t let that happen, before he opens the visor on his helmet to respond.

“I’ll never give her up! ”

The Rebel laughs like Ringo just told him a joke, and the rest of his men copy.

“We gotta go bush.” JD’s low voice draws my attention, but Ringo doesn’t look his way. His gaze remains on the Rebel still laughing.

Flipping open my visor, I glare straight at the smug Rebel, hoping my voice comes out stronger than I feel.

“What do you want with me?!” I call, and he grins wide, eyes gleaming as he finally focuses on me.

“It’s nothing personal, darlin’. Just business. If we bring you in alive, we get a good fuckin’ payday.”

I scoff. “Do you still get paid if I’m dead?”

His smile drops. “No. So rest assured, we ain’t gonna kill you.”

“Might play with you a little first!” some random Rebel yells from behind the guy up front.

I feel more than hear the low growl that rumbles in Ringo’s chest at that.

“Who’s paying you?” I shout, and the Rebel answers easily.

“Some fucker called Dudley Banes. A man of God, apparently.”

I stiffen.

Minister Banes is paying a motorcycle club to hunt me down and kidnap me.

“Aren’t you working for Ian Allen?” JD asks, and the Rebel shrugs.

“Allen is a fucking snake. Yeah, we’ve dealt with him, but he’s not the one writing cheques. That prick’s got his own agenda, and unless he can top two hundred grand, then he’s worth shit to us.”

“Two hundred thousand dollars,” I mutter in disbelief .

“I’ll pay you more to walk away,” Ringo calls.

“Wait. No!” I hiss, but Ringo squeezes my thigh again, a silent warning to stay quiet.

The Rebels burst out laughing.

“As tempting as that is,” the lead Rebel’s smile drops, “we don’t do business with our rivals. But I’ll gladly take your money after we have your girl and you’ve got a bullet in your skull.”

A gasp escapes me as Ringo revs the engine, and a second later we lurch forward, tearing off towards the shadowed pine forest off to the side.

Another squeal bursts out as I clutch him tighter, my body getting jostled like a rag-doll as we leave the road for grass.

I’m too scared to look back, but I can hear the roar of bikes chasing us, and I guess I have to be thankful they want me alive, otherwise I’d be riddled with bullets by now.

“Fuck!” JD and Jols yell in unison as their bike slams into a rock, nearly throwing them off. But JD wrestles it back under control, speeding up again to catch us.

“Ringo!” I cry out in panic, because shit, I don’t see a way out of this.

If they catch us, they will kill him. I know it!

“It’s okay, Angel!” he calls back. “I won’t let them have you.”

He doesn’t get it. He doesn’t get that his safety is what I’m worried about. Not my own.

It’s then that I see the flicker of flames up ahead, and I realise we’re heading back towards the first ambush and the Marx security team.

Gunfire cracks ahead, but it’s less than before, and as we draw closer to the treeline, I see the carnage that’s been left in the wake .

There are bodies. So many scattered on the ground. Still and lifeless. Most wearing Rebel cuts, but some dressed in the Marx black uniform.

We hit a bump, and I bite back my squeal this time, until I realise the bump was actually us driving over a leg, and then I squeal for a different reason.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

That was a leg. Without a body attached to it.

I need to keep it together. Now’s not the time to freak out.

These arseholes played a part in Bobbi’s death. I shouldn’t be running from them. I should be running towards them, with a gun in one hand and a knife in the other.

Breaking through the treeline, several Marx security spin our way with guns raised, but when they see it’s us, their aim shifts behind us to the swarm of Rebels closing in.

The Marx team starts firing into the trees as Ringo and JD swing their bikes around the SUV and pull to a hard stop.

Jumping off quickly, they draw their guns and start shooting into the treeline, using the SUV as cover.

“Abbey!” Jols hurries to my side, helping me off the bike, my legs shaking so bad I can barely stand. “Keep your helmet on. Let’s go!”

She drags me across the road, into the other line of trees, and I panic when we get further and further from my husband.

“I don’t want to leave Ringo.” I snatch my hand back when we’re a few metres in, the forest ahead looking pitch-black and unforgiving.

“We won’t,” she promises. “We’ll just hide back here.”

Drawing her own gun, Jols holds it steady in front of her, scanning the chaos unfolding on the road .

Suddenly, rough hands grab me from behind, and I scream as I get dragged backwards into the shadows.

Jols is right there, her gun trained on whoever has me.

“Let her go or I’ll shoot!” she snarls, and the man scoffs.

“I’ll take my chances you’re not that good a shot.”

I claw at his hands, but he’s wearing gloves, and it barely fazes him. I’m too preoccupied trying to get myself free to notice until it’s too late, when a man comes crashing into Jols from the side.

I scream again, the arsehole dragging me deeper into the darkness, my heart thundering in my chest.

They said they wouldn’t kill me, but they also said they might “play” with me.

I know what men like them consider play, and I’d rather die than let another man use my body for his sick pleasure.

Suddenly, the man stumbles, and we start falling backwards. We hit the ground hard, a loud “umph” ripping from him as he takes the full impact.

I don’t waste the chance, and slam my elbow into his ribs, his grip loosening enough for me to roll off, and quickly scramble to get up, so I can run.

I make it two steps before his hand snaps around my ankle, yanking me back down, my body slamming into the dirt hard. I claw at the earth, digging in to pull myself forward, but he’s strong and fast and annoyingly determined.

I kick back, my boot connecting with something solid, and he roars in pain, making me grin.

I hope that hurt, arsehole.

He’s not done, though, on me again in an instant, crawling up my body as I twist and fight to get away .

Knowing I can’t out-muscle him, I change tactics and stop trying to drag myself away. Gripping my helmet, I hurry to tug it off, holding it like a weapon, and when he rolls me over, I swing.

The crack is loud as my helmet smashes into his skull, and he tumbles off me with a thud.

Rage explodes through me as I straddle him, seeing his glazed eyes blinking at me, completely stunned.

With both hands locked around the helmet, I swing again, driving it down into his face with everything I’ve got.

I scream and I swing. Again and again. The feeling of his bones crunching spurring me on.

I keep going, smashing it down, caving in his face until all I can see is bone and blood.

I refuse to stop. I need to make sure he can’t hurt me. Can’t hurt anyone ever again.

“Angel!”

Ringo’s bellow cuts off with a thud, and my eyes snap to him, now on the ground, only metres away with a man on top of him, trying to force a knife into his chest.

The noise that rips from my throat resembles a feral war cry, and I charge without hesitation, my sights locked onto the man trying to kill my husband.

I leap, my feet leaving the ground, and I swing like I’m holding a bat, the helmet crashing into the side of his skull with a brutal blow.

He tumbles sideways, and I’m on him before he can suck in a breath, ignoring Ringo as he calls for me to stop.

I don’t.

I won’t .

I can’ t stop until every last person that means me or who I love harm, is dead.

I beat him, screaming with each hit, his face cracking open, but still I don’t stop.

The thunderous crack of a gun echoes through the air close by, pulling me up short.

Panting, I spin to see a Rebel hitting the ground, a gun slipping from his hand to the leafy forest floor beside him.

It’s then that I see the silhouette of a man behind him, a gun tight in his grip as a slither of smoke curls up from the barrel.

At first, I expect to recognise a Marx crewman, but that’s not who I’m looking at, and I frown in confusion.