Page 65 of Ride or Dies

“Riders,” he gasped before falling.

It wasn’t until I saw the knife sticking out of his back that I realized he hadn’t been panicked. He’d been stabbed.

Then, gunshots. Not as loud as they were at Rocky’s or when Clayton shot Sweeper, but a lot closer than they should’ve been if the Thunder Riders had just gotten here.

Harley pushed himself up from his seat, his eyes gleaming. “Fuckers used blades to surprise us. I didn’t think they had the guts for up close work.”

“They’re fucking cowards,” Clayton spat. “Probably didn’t even ride up to the clubhouse either. Parked somewhere else and walked.”

I stared at him. “You pretended to be a concerned friend to get close to me, and then shot someone.”

“We do what we have to do,” Clayton said. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Harley said as he came around the desk. His shoulder knocked into Clayton and sent the younger man stumbling. “You ain’t a Cobra. Sit in here like a good boy until the grown-ups are done.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Harley didn’t even acknowledge his nephew as he stepped over the unmoving guy on the floor and headed down the hall, pulling a gun from the back of his pants.

For a moment, both Clayton and I froze, but then Clayton let loose a flurry of curses and grabbed for his gun. I shrank back in my chair, sure that I was about to die, but he didn’t even look at me. Instead, he stormed out of the office, leaving me alone with some random guy who might or might not be bleeding out on the floor.

Another burst of gunfire—much closer this time—got me moving. This office had only one door and no windows, which meant I was either hiding behind the desk, or I was going out there.

I needed a weapon.

A quick search of the desk didn’t reveal anything other than Harley’s wide and disturbing taste in porn, so I was in the process of debating whether I should just make a run for it anyway when I remembered that I did actually know where one weapon was.

Crouching next to the guy on the floor, I grabbed his wrist and felt for a pulse. When I didn’t feel anything, I braced myself and grabbed the hilt of the knife sticking out of his back. I grimaced as it slid free, then wiped the bloody blade on the dead guy’s jeans. Gripping it tightly, I headed for the hall, trying to keep myself as small a target as I could. Even though I was fairly certain that the Thunder Riders were out there, it’d be far too easy for me to catch a stray bullet.

When I reached the end of the short hallway, I peered around the corner and my heart just about stopped.

It was complete and utter chaos.

Men threw punches and kicked, broke bottles and chairs and pool cues over heads and backs. I saw flashes of metal from knives, while some men used pipes and tools as weapons. Guns still went off, but not as fast as before, making me think that either enough people were down to have made a difference, or a lot of them had emptied their guns. Unlike the way Hollywood liked to show gunfights, people didn’t only run out of bullets when it made for a good story.

The factory’s lighting was bad enough that, combined with the smoke from gunpowder, it was hard to make out who anyone was. I thought I saw a couple men I recognized from the clubhouse, but I was looking for three very specific faces and I wasn’t going to rest until I found them.

“Give it up, Harley!” Levi’s voice boomed over everything and I breathed a slight sigh of relief. “Your men are down and we know everything.”

“You’re soft, Bradshaw!” Harley shouted from somewhere to my left. “Something like this, it’s kill or be killed! That’s the way real men do it! None of this surrender shit!”

“We know you’ve been working with Clayton.” It was Mason this time. “He put a good man in the hospital and he’s gonna have to answer for that, but no more of your men have to die.”

“You come into my house and talk to me like that?” Harley stepped into the light. “You must be out of your fucking mind.”

“The place is surrounded.”

I nearly closed my eyes as relief swept through me. Tucker was okay too. And Mason said Sweeper was in the hospital, not dead.

“We’ve got your men and weapons,” Levi continued. “Give us Clayton and we won’t kill him. We’ll let the cops have him. You promise to drop all this shit and go back to how things were.”

Harley laughed. “Oh, you can have the little bastard. I don’t give a damn what you do with him. But you’re a fucking id—”

The bang of a gun cut off what Harley was going to say, but not because it was loud. As Clayton came out of the shadows, gun pointed at his uncle, Harley dropped to his knees.

“You gave me up? Where’s your fucking loyalty? Huh? You give it to these men, but not to me? Your flesh and blood? We’re family!” He screamed the last word and pulled the trigger again.

Even as the shot hit Harley right between the eyes, Clayton spun, not toward any of the bikers, but back to where I’d unconsciously taken a few steps forward, in the direction of the Bradshaws. Before he could squeeze the trigger, a shot rang out and the gun dropped. Clayton screamed, staring at the mess that was once his hand. He kept screaming as Levi shouted orders.

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