Page 30 of Mile High With the Bikers (Screaming Eagles MC #10)

SHRAPNEL

Rory's leg jitters nervously as she looks out the window. “Mason? Where are we going? This isn't the way to the office.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry, but I wasn't entirely honest. No one's supposed to know the new location, not even your guys back there.” He doesn't even glance our way which feels wrong for someone who apparently knows Rory quite well. Like he’s avoiding letting her see his face.

“Mary Haney has graciously volunteered a safe house and your father is waiting for us there.

We felt it was best to go somewhere unassociated with the business. It's not far.”

There's thick plexiglass between him and us. Makes me feel like we're riding in a fucking cage, but the car doesn’t feel military grade in spite of what Mason said. More like something that was upgraded after purchase. Not bad, but commercial quality.

On a lark, I grab the door handle and try to open it, even though we're going full speed down the highway. Nothing. Doesn’t mean anything. It could be a safety feature, but I don’t love that we’re locked in. I tap Rory’s leg and then gesture at the door handle.

She tests it quietly and nods, before sliding into the middle seat and putting her head on my shoulder. “Mary is competition. She was on the plane,” she whispers, pretending to sleep. “Going to her for help would be a last resort. I don’t like this.”

I look out the window as the car leaves the highway. I wish I had my gun. It’s obvious why Mason wouldn't let me bring it, but I miss the cozy weight of it in my hand. Luckily, Mason never mentioned knives. “Stay calm and wait for an opportunity,” I whisper back. “Trust me.”

“Mmmhmm,” she hums. Her toe keeps tapping, but at least she’s stilled her leg. She slides her phone out of her bag, but there’s no signal. Are we being blocked?

Mason and the driver are discussing something, quietly enough that it doesn't carry through the barrier. I scan the plexiglass, examining the seal around the edge. Whoever installed it attached it to the wall below with rather shitty looking bolts. Maybe something I can use to my advantage?

We can sit here and await our fate, or do something.

Two options, the way I see it: breaking through the doors, or breaking through the divider.

Not fancying throwing myself out of this thing at speed, and while I at least have some leather on, Rory would get fucking shredded.

And then they could just stop, come back and collect our probably mangled bodies afterwards.

Divider it is.

I pretend to stretch, sliding my knife out of my hidden boot holster. It’s served me well through every deployment I’ve seen, and it’s gonna help me now.

Keeping my attention out the window, I dig the tip of the blade into the corner closest to the door.

They shouldn’t be able to see me tampering there.

Slowly and methodically, I slice away at the edge by feel until there’s enough to get my fingers under.

Something sharp digs into my finger until I change my grip, but there’s a hint of a flex in the plastic when I tug it.

Fuck, I wish I had Bull's bulk to help, but I'm here and he’s not, so I guess it's up to me.

Rory sits up and yawns, giving me room to move.

I signal a countdown, flashing three fingers twice, then two fingers twice, then one finger twice before…

I yank the divider hard, putting every ounce of strength I’ve got into it.

There’s no way to be subtle about this, and when it resists, I’m sure we’re fucked.

But my hunch about the work quality comes through.

There’s a sound like shearing metal, and the divider starts to come loose. You get what you pay for.

“What the fuck are you doing back there?”

“Need some fresh air, motherfucker!” Ignoring a sharp edge digging into my palm, I throw my weight backwards, yanking the divider the rest of the way. Bits of cheap metal and plastic shoot into the air as they rip loose, and there’s a gap big enough to get through if nobody’s trying to kill me.

Unfortunately, somebody’s trying to kill me.

Mason unbuckles his belt and twists, pulling a piece that looks like it could so some serious damage from an underarm holster.

“What happened to no guns in the car?” I taunt.

“Fuck you!” He points the gun at my face. “Sit your ass back down or Ms. Whittaker is the only one who makes it to our destination.”

“Mason, don't you dare!” Rory throws herself in front of me.

“Rory, get the fuck out of the way!” I try to nudge her away while working on making a bigger gap. Of course, she ignores me.

“He's not going to shoot me. He needs me. Isn’t that right?” She faces Mason, forcing herself even harder into the space between us.

“Without me, you're not going to be able to control Hermes, because I'm the only one who knows how. If Dad was able to do it, you never would’ve needed to come get me at all. I’m the one who knows the tools, the right order, the commands, everything. You can't afford to shoot me.”

Goddamn it, I understand her logic, but I’m not going to use the woman I’m falling in love with as my fucking shield. “Rory?—”

“Let me do this. I'm not strong like you, but I know what I'm worth. Mason can't afford to shoot me.”

“Get out of the way, Ms. Whittaker. There are plenty of non-lethal places to put a bullet. I don't want to, because you've always treated me good, but I don't have much choice. I'm in too deep.” He aims lower, at her leg.

Motherfucker.

I roar like a fucking bear, draw on every little bit of strength I have, and pull the divider loose, shouldering Rory aside in the process.

She hits the door with a pained grunt, but she's out of the line of fire.

Mason pulls the trigger just as I throw myself sideways.

The bullet embeds itself in the back window.

At least they got the armor plating they paid for.

I jump, throwing myself at him through the gap I made before he adjusts his aim, leading with my knife. It’s not big or flashy, but it’s fucking sharp and that’s all I need to draw blood.

The driver screams as Mason and I wrestle for control, whacking into him and sending the car careening into another lane.

My life flashes before my eyes as a fucking eighteen wheeler heads straight for us.

The truck driver slams on his horn and his brakes squeal, while our guy wrenches the wheel to the side and throws us back into our lane.

We lose a side mirror with a shriek of metal, but at least we’re not crushed to death.

The momentum as we straighten throws me and Mason into the right side door, me with my knife pressing against his throat, and him twisting the gun to aim it at my fucking head. “An inch more and I'll fucking open your neck from ear to ear. Drop the gun,” I snarl.

Unfortunately, the driver's not on our side. The car lurches as he makes another fast move, throwing me back into the middle and leaving Mason on top. He raises his gun and aims.

Fuck, I have nowhere to go.

“Don't!” Rory throws herself at Mason's arm, messing up his aim.

The crack of the gun is deafening in the front of the limo.

Is Rory okay? I push off the driver and get a leg under me, so I can get back in there.

Peeling her hand off Mason, I shove her roughly into the back.

I barely catch the sound of her indignant gasp before Mason drives his fist into my ribs.

Fuck, that hurt. It takes everything I have to hold him down while he's trying to get free. The hot barrel of his iron smacks against the side of my head, forcing me to reel. I swing my knife as I fall backwards, savoring his pained scream as I catch his arm. The blade comes out bloody.

“Shrapnel, the car!”

Me and Mason come to the same realization at the same time.

The bullet took out our driver, who's now dead weight on the wheel, with his foot stuck on the gas.

As we speed faster and faster down the road, the car is listing left, bringing us back into opposing traffic, and we're all gonna be fucked if we don't do something.

Doesn't mean either of us is willing to give the other one a free shot, though.

We wrestle to get to the driver, and my leg gets caught in the gap between the seats, twisting in a way that sends fiery streaks of pain shooting all the way up to my groin.

Mason’s a heavy fucker, and I’ve got all his weight on top of me.

Mason punches me in the head and I jam my thumb into his eye, steeling myself against the sickening pop.

He screams. “I’m gonna fucking kill you!”

Bracing against the driver, I throw myself around, using him for leverage.

I wrench open the door and flip him out with a move that would’ve made my high school wrestling coach proud.

His limp body tumbles out, and the whole car lurches as the rear wheels run him over.

The bump knocks Mason off balance, and I manage to push him back to the other side. Blood is streaming down his face.

“Can you drive?” I shout to Rory.

“On it!”

I force Mason deeper into the passenger side, giving Rory room to squeeze through and into the driver's seat. The door is still flopping, and just for a moment I imagine her losing her balance and tumbling out, but she settles in the driver's seat and gets her hands on the wheel.

Not a fucking moment too soon. She throws us back towards the right, barely avoiding a pickup truck that's frantically flashing its brights, like we don't fucking know we’re sliding all over the fucking road.

This time I've fucking got him, pressing my knife closer while both of his hands are trying to push my arm back. But with all my weight behind it, it's slowly closing on him. Motherfucker.

“Ms. Whittaker, it doesn't have to be like this!” he yells desperately. “I know you don’t agree with what your father’s doing!”

“Tell me where he is,” she screams back at him while she wrangles the limo into its lane. We hit a bump and my blade draws blood, a trickle of red sliding down in his throat and onto his shirt.

“We're almost there,” he yells desperately. “I didn’t lie about that. Go right up ahead, and you'll see that I'm telling you the fucking truth. I swear, we're almost fucking there.”

“Rory, we shouldn't?—”

She turns the car down the road Mason indicates, jostling us. “If Dad is there, we have to get him.”

Mason tries to break free, but I throw that motherfucker right back into his seat. “Don't fucking think about it,” I hiss, then raise my voice. “We can't just fucking drive right into it. It's guaranteed to be a trap.”

“Don't listen to him, Ms. Whittaker. He's waiting for us.”

For a moment, she looks torn, but then two black SUVs peel out from dirt roads in the trees, boxing us in.

Mason grins, now that his cavalry is here.

His expression turns into shocked surprise when I grab him by the hair and slit his throat with a quick pull of the blade, like he can’t quite believe that I would actually do it.

Kidnap my girl? Of course I’d fucking do it.

I shove him down quickly to keep Rory from seeing too many of the gory details.

Rory gasps. “Did you just?—”

Fuck. “Eyes forward, Rory. We need to get the fuck outta here.”

“I can't! There's one behind us, too.”

Two loud pops like gunshots go off. The front of the car drops as the tires explode and the wheel hubs start scraping on the asphalt.

What little is in the back gets thrown into the front with us at the sudden deceleration.

And as soon as we screech to a complete stop, the SUVs veer out, giving them just enough distance for the riders to jump out on the far sides and aim at us, using their vehicles for cover.

The only good thing about realizing that you are utterly and completely fucked is that things become very clear very quickly. “Honey, I'm good, but not good enough to take them all out.”

I pull out my phone, set it on mute and bring up the first contact, typing a quick message and getting ready. I might not make it out alive, but if I can at least let someone know where we are, Rory could live.

She’s also entering crisis mode. She dives into the back and grabs her backpack, rummaging through it quickly and digging out a small black piece of circuit board with a plug on the end. “Hide this. If you can keep it away from them, do it. If you can’t, destroy it.”

I have no idea what it does, but I only need to know she wants it hidden. I drop it into the slight gap behind the boot holster for my knife. They’re gonna take that anyway. If I’m lucky, it’s so small that they won’t see it.

We stare at each other for a long moment. Cupping her cheek with my fingers, I lean in and kiss her. “It’s been fun, smarty-pants.”

Her eyes glisten. “No matter what happens, I want you to know that these past few days have been the best of my life.”

Fuck.

“No matter what happens, you need to sit real still and stay down, okay?” Moving slowly, I put my hand on the door handle. Drawing a deep breath, I hold it for a count of three before cracking open the door and yelling, “Hold your fire! We surrender!”

In the first seconds of the chaos that follows, I quickly hit send and start a call before throwing my phone under the seat and walking out with my hands up.