Page 62 of Outlaws’ Runaway

A sad poof of pressurized air escapes the valve. So much for that.

“Put your gun down,” demands Crank's furious voice. The shadow has turned towards the sound and as it comes closer, it just keeps getting bigger and bigger. It's easy to forget how huge Crank is until you have him coming your way threateningly. “I'm not fucking asking twice.”

I try to run.

But not fast enough. Fabbri gets his hand on my collar and makes a fist, yanking me right back against him. “Where the fuck do you think you're going?” he snarls.

Good news, the guys definitely know where we are now. Bad news, Fabbri now has his gun pressed hard enough into the spot behind my ear that I think it's going to bruise.

“If you hurt her, we're going make your death as fucking painful as we can.” Crank emerges from the shadow, still huge, but now I can see his actual face. Holy crap, he’s angry. I've gotten so used to him joking around with me that it shocks me. Those deep blue eyes aren't sparkling with fun, they're promising certain and horrific death. If it was me he was looking at like that, I'd break down and cry immediately. Even Fabbri looks uncomfortable.

And then two more shadows resolve into Savage and Poe, looking every bit as deadly. Like a triad of avenging angels, awesome and terrible.

“Fuck,” Fabbri snaps then starts pulling me back with him, in the direction of the loading dock. “Stay back, or I'm going to ventilate your girlfriend. I've got nothing left to lose.”

With his arm settled around my neck, there isn't much I can do except follow. And then the guys follow us.

It's the slowest chase ever. Fabbri backing up, me stumbling backwards to keep up and the guys keeping pace with us, all their guns trained on Fabbri's head, but not getting any closer. There has to be a way out of this. Some way to distract Fabbri long enough to… to do something. If I really am Savage's kitten, then I should have four or five lives left still, right?

The distraction turns out to be the sound of a motorcycle. Of a lot of motorcycles, the rumble coming closer and closer until it's impossible to ignore. Fabbri looks back over his shoulder, and his grip on my throat loosens just a hair. Hopefully enough.

I kick my heel up behind me, and from the pained groan, it's a direct hit. I drop, just as Fabbri's gun goes off, the bullet so close I feel a hot streak along my right cheek that burns like fire. But he loses his grip, and I continue dropping to the floor, screaming in pain all the way. Three guns go off, over and over, actually walking Fabbri backwards towards the edge of the loading dock, where a final shot that knocks his head back sends him tumbling. He lands in a laundry cart under the ramp, blood quickly seeping from his corpse and into the white cloth beneath him.

I blink, not quite believing it's over.

Crank reaches me first, sweeping me up in his arms and clutching me tight. The side of my face still burns, and I feel blood running down my neck, but right now I don't care. Nothing matters anymore except pressing myself against him and hearing the heartbeat inside his broad chest, slowing now that he knows I'm safe. And then Savage is there, and Poe, and they're touching me and squeezing me and making sure I'm okay. It's both overwhelming and wonderful.

I can finally break down into ugly sobs, which I do.

“Based on how you found Walter, there's a certain justice in this,” says Hellfire's voice, and I raise my head to see his blurry shape down by the car. Once I wipe my eyes of tears, he comes through a lot clearer, along with what has to be nearly all of the Outlaw Sons. “Guess we got here a little late, but at least we can help with the cleanup.”

Savage nods. “If you can handle that, we'd be fucking grateful. I wanna get Paige back to the club.”

“Understandable. Ghost, pick some guys and sort it out.”

Ghost nods. “Sure thing.”

Crank settles me in front of him on the way back, so he can keep his arm around me the whole time, flanked by Savage and Poe, and escorted by a dozen or more Outlaw Sons. It's like coming home a hero.

36

PAIGE

Home.

I'm not sure exactly when it happened, and it seems crazy after such a short time, but when I wake up in Poe's bed, nestled between him and Crank, with Savage asleep in a chair, angled to keep watch, I've never felt more home than I do right now. Like I belong. Like I'm safe.

Alive.

They're all asleep, and I don't think I can get out of the bed without waking at least one of them. It makes my heart beat faster, but I also really have to pee.

So I give it a go. I haven't even gotten over Poe when Crank wraps his strong arm around my waist and yanks me right back into him, my back against his chest and his… oh, hello there.

“Let go, before I pee all over you,” I say with a giggle, squirming in his arms.

He chuckles, the rumble vibrating my back, but he releases me. “But you're coming back here. We're not done with you yet.”

Jeez. I guess all it takes for bikers to get all possessive is a little mortal danger. No problem.

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