Page 33 of Mile High With the Bikers (Screaming Eagles MC #10)

SHRAPNEL

The SUV drives off with Rory in it, and I'm so fucking pissed at her. If I survive this, I'm gonna give her a goddamn piece of my mind. But I'm guessing my odds aren't looking all that fucking great.

The goons have let go of me, but my wrists are still tied and they're not making any move to change that. Not surprised. Really, the only surprise is Rory thinking that these fuckers would keep their word. Maybe she figured it was a better chance than definitely dead in there, which is fair, but the idea that these guys might let me go at all is naive at best. Well, at least I’m outside and get to appreciate the setting sun one last time.

I turn to face the goons, walking backwards. “So, no chance you boys were actually planning to keep your word, is there? Maybe go grab a burger and laugh at this whole thing? Do each other's hair?”

“Your girl might be real dumb, but I'm glad you see how it is.” This guy's about as generic as the others, except his high and tight is copper red, and he's got to be at least a size and a half bigger than the rest.

“Yeah. I figured. Guess I should thank you.”

The big guy cracks his knuckles. “Thank me? For what?”

“Letting her live on in ignorance. I don't know what your bosses have in mind for her, but I'm guessing she's not coming over for crumpets and tea. At least now she can believe that she saved me.” I shrug my shoulders. “Any chance of making it quick?”

The big guy laughs. “No, I don't think so. I got nowhere I need to be. We’re going to make this hurt.”

“Yeah, alright. Kind of what I figured.” I throw myself at him, charging head first, digging my skull right into his gut at a full run.

A sharp pain shoots down my neck and onto my back, but he grunts, surprised and breathless.

He tumbles backwards, breaking my fall as he tries to wrap his big arms around me.

Much as I'd fucking love a hug, he's not my type, so I twist sideways, just getting out from under his sweep and onto the asphalt.

Fucking ow.

What I wouldn't give for free hands to catch myself with. Using my momentum, I keep rolling right up into a crouch. The big guy's slowly getting to his feet, but they sure as fuck weren't taking any chances.

“Five guys, just for little old me? I guess the Screaming Eagles' reputation precedes me. Who's next?” I spit at them. “I can fucking do this all day.”

They rush me all at once. Maybe one day I'll learn to keep my damn mouth shut.

I get my leg into one, tripping him. He goes ass up into a ditch next to the garage.

Then I get a fist to the face, a proper meat slab of a punch.

My nose cracks audibly, and I go flying backwards, spraying blood in the air behind me.

Motherfucker, that hurt. This time, when I spit, it's all red. The next hit, I don't dodge nearly as cleverly, and I get stuck on my back instead of rolling onto my feet. I throw myself to the side, just in time to get a boot to my ribs, so hard it fucking flips me over.

I struggle to my feet and let the crazy shine through in my bloody smile. “Bunch of fucking pussies. Take my rope off if you’ve got actual balls.”

The fist to my stomach says that they probably won't. Figures.

Wheezing as I catch my breath, I drop to my knees. Fuck. Of all the ways I thought I might die, getting my ass kicked by a group of corporate goons wasn't how I saw it going. I’d much rather go out in a blaze of fire as I ride my motorcycle off a cliff. Maybe some fireworks in the background.

A boot connects with my face, knocking me backwards, and rattling that dream right outta my head. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I refuse to give up, but they're making it so fucking hard to keep going.

Another kick, and another one. The big guy fucking picks me up and throws me back down on the asphalt so my head bounces and my teeth rattle.

Pretty sure things are gonna start to break soon, if they haven't already.

I'm having a hard time seeing through the blood running down my face.

I fucking failed.

I can only hope Bull and Diesel will find a way to avenge me, while I try to do as much damage as I can going out.

So when one of them comes close, I kick hard, catching him by surprise.

Bet the fucker didn't believe I still had fight in me.

I nail him right in the side, making him drop with a wheeze.

He throws up. I hope he fucking pisses blood in the morning.

Then it's my turn to ride the hurtmobile. One kick forward, three kicks back.

When I end up in the ditch, I know I'm fucked. There's no way I'm getting back on my feet from down here. Guess I had a good run.

I refuse to hide from it. If they're gonna kill me, they're gonna fucking have to do it to my face. They look down at me from the top of the ditch, grinning like they aren't pussies with a sheer number advantage. “What’cha waiting for guys? Come on in, the water’s fine!”

Except they fucking don't. Instead, they all turn away. What the fuck?

I feel the rumble through the ground just before the noise registers. And I've ridden with the Eagles long enough to know exactly what that sound means.

Motorcycles.

A fuckton of motorcycles.

“Get ready!” I recognize the voice of the big guy from down here. Glad to know it's not his friends that are coming in.

The rumble gets stronger and louder. With no one giving a shit about me anymore, I struggle to my feet and look around for anything to cut the rope with. Scrap metal? Sharp rock? Someone drop a knife?

I end up finding a rock with a bit of an edge, enough that I try sawing the rope against it.

Above, a gun goes off. No idea who or why, but chaos is my buddy right now. Then a lot of fucking guns go off as the motorcycle rumble has to be right above. The rope comes apart and I shake it off.

Keeping low, I crawl up the side of the ditch, praying that the right guys are waiting for me up there. Thank fucking God. Bull, Diesel and what's got to be almost the whole damn club are waiting for me. Diesel's leaning his arms on the bars of his bike and grinning. “Holy shit, you look like ass.”

Taking a deep breath that makes my bruised sides ache, I stagger up onto the road, and look around through rose colored glasses. Wait, that’s just the blood. “Took you fucking long enough. Did you need an engraved invitation?”

Behind the boys, all the goons lie sprawled on the road. Fuck, I would've liked to have dealt with them myself, especially the big guy, but there's no time for personal vendettas if we're gonna catch up to Rory. I'm just gonna be fucking thankful that the cavalry arrived when it did.

Bull gets off his bike, and walks over, getting his shoulder under my arm to keep me standing. “Fuck, those assholes worked you over, didn't they? Come on, let's get you cleaned up.”

I wanna give him a smart-alec answer, but I don't have it in me. Not anymore. “They got Rory. She's in a black SUV, went that way.” I wave my hand to show them, and it feels like it weighs a thousand tons.

“How long?” Diesel looks down the road, his hunting instinct awakened.

“Not long, but long enough to kick my ass. Fuck, everything hurts.”

“Piston! Beast! Take Shrapnel back and get him patched up.” King, who as VP outranks everyone else, dishes out the orders.

“With all due respect, King, fuck you. I'm not going home with my tail between my fucking legs, when Rory's in trouble.” I force myself to stand straight, even if every bone in my fucking body aches.

“Don't be an idiot. What’re you going to do? Bleed on them?” King doesn't look interested in my bullshit.

Too bad, I’ve got a lot of fucking bullshit.

“If it was Emily, would you let someone put you on the sick wagon so you can sip tea while you wait for Hero and Wild Child to let you know if she made it? Hypothetically?” I wipe my face with my arm, and the sleeve comes back bloody. Fuck, I got my ass kicked.

For a long moment, he just glares at me, pissed that I'm talking back and pissed that I'm right.

He'd never fucking stay back if it was his woman.

“Fine, but Bull and Diesel are in charge of you.

They decide you've had enough, you've had enough.

I'm not gonna risk the whole crew on you being a weak link, got it?”

Some day when Eagle-eye finally decides to step down, King's gonna be a strong president. “Got it.”

“Here.” Diesel hands me my gun. “Kept this for you.” Just another reason why he’s one of my best friends.

I wince as I swing my leg up and haul myself onto the back of Bull's bike. I need to set my fucking nose, but if I pass out now, King's definitely sending me home. Shit's gonna have to wait.

“The road splits up ahead.” Diesel looks up from his GPS. “And there's a highway ramp. They could've gone anywhere.”

King pulls out his phone. “Guess Snark's day isn’t quite over.”