Page 89 of Claimed By the Biker Brothers

I see him waving at us just as a black van drives by with the side door open. They stop, and I hear POP-POP-POP as bullets fly through the window.

I drop to the side and end up on the floor, hazy and stunned as the horror unfolds. I hear a grunt and look to my left. Faraday managed to take cover behind the booth. Samson grabs me and helps me run.

“Come on, we need to get you out of here,” he snarls.

Screams erupt throughout the diner, wood splinters fly, then more bullets. It’s a fucking nightmare. I can only let Samson guide me across the diner as the men in the van keep firing at us.

“Take my keys,” Samson says as we slip through a narrow corridor.

We run past the kitchen and the bathrooms as some of the staff come out in confusion.

“Get back!” he shouts at them. “Call the police!”

We burst through the back door and damn near fall into the alley. I stumble but manage to hold on to Samson long enough to regain my balance.

“Oh, my God,” I gasp, my heart racing. I can barely breathe.

“You’re okay,” he says, breathing heavily and wincing as he hurriedly checks me from head to toe before he gives me the car keys. “Take them,” Samson insists. “Take them. Go! Get out of here, Robyn, it’s not safe.”

“Yeah, but—” I pause and glance down.

Blood blossoms like a devastating rose over his shoulder, seeping through his plaid shirt.

“Samson, you’re hit!”

“I’ll be fine. There’s an ambulance coming by now for sure. Get out of here, Robyn, please.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll be fine. Go, Robyn! Go now!”

He pushes me away for good measure, and every instinct I have is screaming at me to leave, yet I hesitate for another second until popping sounds reach us from the front of the building. Whoever was shooting at us is still there, still wreaking havoc. I have no choice, so I give Samson a nod and jump into his dark brown sedan. I know this car; it’s old and beat up, but it’ll take me anywhere I need to go.

Unnoticed.

Samson uses it when he doesn’t want to draw attention to himself.

I drive down the alleyway, hands gripping the wheel so tightly my knuckles turn white. I’m shaking and trying to catch my breath, heat bursting through me as sweat drips down my forehead. The smell of tobacco and sweat hits me along with a strong undercurrent of gasoline and smoke. It makes me want to vomit, but I keep it together.

Swerving left and right through a network of alleys and side streets, I manage to get away from the danger while sirens wail loudly behind me. This just went from bad to worse.

It takes a good few minutes for me to catch my breath and to see clearly. It’s a miracle I didn’t crash into anything. I need to get home. I need to get Kyra out of here and somewhere safe. I’m not sure where safe is, but I have to do something, anything. My phone buzzes in my jacket pocket as I stop at a red light. It’s a message from Ellie.

Heard there was a shooting in town. Where are you? Are you okay?

I send a quick voice message. “I’m okay, but I’ll drive out of town and come around on the belt road to get back to you. Please get Kyra ready. Just grab the go bag in your guest room. I need to leave town for a few days.”

Ellie responds with a voice message of her own. “Oh, God, I can’t believe this. Just get back here first. The Riders are still outside watching the place. It’s been quiet and safe here. Drive safely, please.”

I put the phone back in my jacket and put the car into drive.

Once I’m out on the belt road, I feel a sense of relief. I’ve put as much distance between myself and the danger as possible, but now I’m worried about everybody else: the people at the diner, the prospects who were watching the place, Mr. Faraday, and Samson… He’s injured. God, I hope the ambulance got to him on time.

The roar of an engine approaching catches my attention.

“Oh, shit,” I gasp as I spot a black SUV coming on fast from behind.

BANG!

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