Page 13 of Mensa's Match

Mensa looked over his shoulder realizing the asshole was yelling at them. A second later, Rod shot at them.

Mensa wasn’t sure what kind of gun Rod had, but by his math, there were at least three more bullets, which were three too many.

“Put your fuckin’ gun down,” Two-Times yelled.

Mensa glanced back and saw Two-Times behind the bar, holding a Glock.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Whitney whispered.

Mensa fought a perverse grin since he had the very same thought. He rolled off Whitney and pulled her to her feet. Another shot rang out. He looked over his shoulder and saw Two-Times aiming at Rod, who had dropped to his belly.

“Run!” Mensa shouted, then felt a rush of humid air hit him. He whirled and followed Whitney out.

She was three feet ahead of him, and half a dozen other patrons were running out of bar.

Mensa sprinted, caught up, grabbed Whitney’s hand, and yanked her toward his bike.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

“You’re coming with me and we’re on my bike. Hurry.”

“We need to call 911 and wait for the police.”

His eyes widened. “There isn’t anywhere to take cover, Blume. Rod’s shooting at usnow. His club isn’t far from here, so twenty other bikers could be here any second. We’re leaving.”

She opened her mouth then closed it, and kept pace with Mensa to his Harley. The faint sound of sirens filled the air, but they weren’t very close.

He swung on his bike, put the key in the ignition, and Whitney hauled herself up behind him like she’d done it fifty times before.

Something else he didn’t need to know about her.

Rod barged out of Twisted Talons. He hollered something, and in the side mirror, Mensa saw two other bikers in the parking lot. Even over the pipes of his Harley, he heard one of the bikes roar to life.

“Hang on,” Mensa yelled, and they shot forward.

He tore through the parking lot and hung a left onto the main thoroughfare.

Whitney tapped his shoulder. “Head toward the interstate, you can drop me at my apartment.”

He shook his head. “No. There’s another Corrupt Chrome member behind us.”

From the side mirror, he saw her whip her head around and turn back, scowling.

A car ahead turned right, and Mensa accelerated to get away from the biker behind them. It was the one time he didn’t like his loud pipes because it gave away the fact he’d twisted the throttle.

“Are we going to the clubhouse?” Whitney yelled.

The entire situation was fucked up. He’d prefer to lead this asshole to Har’s body shop and have it out with him. The clubhouse would be his second choice, but he couldn’t do either with a law enforcement officer on his bike. (Even if Riley had shared that Whitney had resigned from the FBI, Mensa didn’t care. Once a cop, always a cop, as far as he was concerned.)

His options were limited.

He considered a casino, but the rider was too close for Mensa to lose him.

Roman had a mother-in-law suite, but he actually had his mother living there.

“You got an extra gun?” Whitney asked, pressing forward.

He heaved out an exhale. He’d just sold his spare gun to Tiny, who wanted Sierra to have a small gun in her purse.

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