Page 7 of Their Princess

“Don’t make this hard for me. Come here, Mafia bitch.”

Why were they coming after me? What the fuck did I do?

“There you are,” murmured a man with a hearty laugh.

Boots waited in front of me, and I curled into a tighter ball, hoping it would be one of the MC bikers. That wish slapped me hard in the face. What a day it was that I was already hoping the MC would rescue me? Instead, I faced the ugly mug of some asshole.

His gun was pointed directly at me. “Beg for your life,puta.”

“No,” I said, though if begging for my life meant saving it, maybe it wasn’t such a terrible idea.

He brushed his finger over the trigger. “On your knees and beg.”

“No.” I jutted my chin and stared up at him along the line of the gun’s barrel.

Was I stupid right now? Maybe. Was I a coward? No.

“Say hello to God, puta.”

“Or you could,” said another voice.

The man holding a gun at me twisted toward the voice, swinging his gun sideways, but a boom of another gun blasted him backward, painting my vision red. He stumbled and fell, landing like a lump of meat. His blood seeped into the dusty ground, running along the ridges of the concrete to collect near my bare feet. He turned to pull them away and stared down at the body. He was very dead. Black eyes stared at me and at nothing. His mouth hung open and one side of his head was missing. I was frozen, trembling—until a hand grabbed at me and wrenched me to my feet. I wasn’t tall enough to see who held me now, but his shirt was loose under a motorcycle vest.

I tilted back my head to stare at the man who just saved my life.

Sas.

What a knight in shining armor. Or should I say a misplaced bigfoot, not in a forest, but in the middle of Arizona’s desert? Bigfoot with a gun.

He glared at me like he was pissed, and I wasn’t exactly happy about the situation either. Then he pushed me down again, and I landed straight in the blood and dirt. The metallic tang seeped into my mouth. It was in my hair. On my clothes. Staining my skin.

“What the fuck?” I demanded, but then a round of gunshots resounded over my head. I threw my hands over my ears, trying to block out the sound. It shook my bones until I could no longerseparate the vibrations of the gunshots from the fear trembling through me.

Sas knelt beside me, gun raised and eyes focused down the sight line. His body partially shielded mine as the bulletsclinkedoff the metal window frame above my head. I squirmed, ready to run again.

Sas glanced back at me. “Sit fucking still, princess,” was all he managed to ground out.

But his face was reading like he wanted to yell at me. If we were really getting married—assuming we survived this—he would have the rest of our lives to yell at me. Wasn’t that what married people did?

I hid behind him. His hulking body was at least useful as a shield, and he seemed to have a pretty good aim with the long-barrel handgun he was whipping around like someone out of the Wild West.

I, on the other hand, flinched time and time again. As soon as the gunshots dissipated, they picked up again. A roaring engine cut through the air, and I peeked around the corner as Sas stood, still shooting. Other bikers chased after a truck that was speeding north on the highway, still shooting.

When the truck crested the hill, leaving everyone on foot in the literal dust, the gunshots died off.

“Ghost, Merry, Pip,” yelled the MC president—Wilde, he’d introduced himself as. His voice boomed loud enough to reach me in the back of the shop. “Ride out. I want the ID and make of that truck. Now. Jackyl, check the bodies.”

The four of them were moving, three grabbing for motorcycles, and Jackyl flipping over the first body. I didn’t know how they still fired up after being caught in the middle of a shootout, but they took off. Jackyl moved away from the first body after pulling a wallet from the pocket. He jogged aroundthe back, nearing the body not far from me. I shied away from him and the body, disgust churning my stomach.

Sas turned to me, grabbing my forearm. He yanked me to my feet like a rag doll and nearly took my arm out of its socket.

“Get off me,” I said, trying to pry his fingers off my arm.

Sas tightened his grip on me. “Are you stupid?”

“How fucking dare you?” I demanded.

“Me?” He scoffed before towering over me, literally blocking out the sun like he was the moon in an eclipse. “I saved your ass.”

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