Page 106 of Lucky's Trouble

There’s no time to aim, and even if I did, I’ve never fired a gun before, so it would probably be a wasted effort anyway. Time slows as my eyes squeeze shut, the kickback from the gun sending me off balance and knocking me and the woman over.

Everything moves quickly after that. Screams sound as I struggle to gain control of the gun from the woman who’s doing everything in her power to keep it from me. I don’t have time to worry about whether my bullet did its job because she swings her arm forward, hitting me in the head from behind with the butt of the gun. I’m dazed for a split second before I pin her arm to the ground and twist my body to face her. Straddling her hips, I slam her hand to the ground over and over until she releases the gun, but it’s not over, because she’s strong and ready to fight.

“Freeze,” a deep voice commands from behind me. In my focus on the woman, it doesn’t register who it belongs to.

Her eyes go wide, and her body goes limp. I climb off her, every part of me shaking uncontrollably. An arm slips around my waist, and I cry out, fighting to get away.

“Shh, Tinleigh. It’s me. You’re okay.” Lucky turns me in his arms, and I take a deep inhale of his unmistakable scent. No matter if he’s been at the Garage that day or not, he always smells of motor oil and spice. It’s something I’ve associated with safety, and my knees buckle.

He catches me, lifting me in his arms. I break apart at the seams, clinging to him with everything I have in me as I sob into his neck. I hear his thick swallow as he presses his cheek to mine, his wiry beard scratching my skin.

“You did it. You got him,” he whispers in my ear. “And I got you.”

“I did?” I croak, lifting my head.

He turns us to face the grizzly scene. Sir is on his back, his deflated cock resting on his hip. A bullet wound is a few inches above his belly button with a steady stream of blood oozing out, and two of his pets are bent over him and frantic, pleading for help. The other is being held at gunpoint by Dutch, who must’ve come in after he heard the gunshot. Riot’s here now, too. He steps over Sir and the women, picking up the two discarded guns.

I take one final look at the bastard who deserves far more than a bullet but I accept it’s all the closure I’ll get. Contemplating what I could’ve done differently so he’d be alive to suffer the way I want him to would only be giving him more of my time, and I’ll be damned if I give him any more of myself.

Tensing, I gasp. “Myla?”

“She’s okay. Hurt, but okay. Bones and Sugar are taking good care of her,” Lucky assures me, and I relax back into him.

“What do I do with them?” Rigger asks.

“Give them the opportunity to come with us. If they refuse, leave ’em.” Lucky shifts me in his arms, getting a better hold. “I’m getting her out of here.”

“You sure?” he asks.

He looks at me, and I nod. “At least give them the choice.”

“All right.” Rigger scratches the back of his neck. “We’ll be up in a minute.”

We make it to the stairs before Lucky stops. “Oh, don’t forget to cut the cuffs off the guys upstairs.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He waves us off. “I got this. Go take care of your girl.”

Once upstairs, Lucky turns in circles, looking for something. “There have to be some clothes somewhere.”

“I don’t know where.”

“Here, brother.” A man I don’t recognize places a white linen tablecloth over me.

“Thanks.”

We move outside into the chilly night air, and I feel awkward, unsure of what to say or do. He just witnessed my biggest shame, and I’m not sure he’ll ever look at me the same.

“Let’s get you into the van,” he says, walking up to the same van I stole two days ago. Has it only been two days? It feels like a lifetime. “Can you get up there on your own?”

I nod, and he sets me down, seeming to avoid looking at me. I was right; nothing will be the same after this. Pulling at the cloth, I wrap it tightly around my body as I awkwardly place a foot on the rear bumper. But before I can push up and get in, I’m stopped by a hand around my arm.

“Wait,” he says. Without saying another word, he begins working on the collar around my throat. The leather loosens, and he removes it and the leash from me. I look over my shoulder in time to see him chuck it away with determined force.

“This too, please,” I whisper, lowering the fabric covering my back. The corset is so tight it’s hard to get a full breath, and the boning keeping my breasts in place is digging painfully into my skin.

With deft fingers, he releases the hook and eye closures one by one until he reaches the end, then that’s pulled off me and tossed aside as well.

“These too?” he asks, tracing along the top of the uncomfortable leather crotchless panties.

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