Page 66 of Tempest

“Cover me,” I said to Viking.

Without waiting for a response, I broke from our formation, weaving through the melee. Bullets zinged past, but I was focused, driven. This bastard was the key.

I vaulted over a smoldering car, landing in a crouch just yards from my target. Our eyes locked. In that moment, everything else faded away. It was just us -- predator and prey, though who was which remained to be seen.

He sneered, reaching for his weapon. “You’re out of your league, biker trash.”

“We’ll see about that,” I said, lunging forward.

Our bodies collided with brutal force. I felt the air rush from his lungs as we hit the ground. But he was no pushover. A vicious elbow caught me in the ribs, sending shockwaves of pain through my body.

I retaliated with a headbutt, feeling cartilage crunch beneath my forehead. Blood sprayed, but neither of us relented. We rolled, trading blows, each strike fueled by desperation and hate. I needed to make this fucker hurt! A quick death was too fucking good for him.

He managed to get a hand on his gun. Instinct took over. I grabbed his wrist, twisting savagely. The crack of bone was barely audible over the din of battle, but the agonized howl that followed was music to my ears.

“Not so tough now, are ya?” I taunted, my own voice rough with exertion.

He spat blood in my face. “Fuck you and your whole club. We’ll bury every last one of you.”

Rage surged through me, white-hot and all-consuming. I wanted to end him, to feel his life drain away beneath my hands. But we needed information. I needed to know how they’d found us and the Twisted Tides. Where had I fucked up?

Instead, I leaned in close, my voice a deadly whisper. “You first, asshole.”

The chaos around us intensified. Gunfire erupted in deafening bursts, punctuated by the sharp crack of explosions. Through the comms, I heard Saint’s voice, tight with tension.

“You’ve got incoming! At least a dozen more from the east!”

I risked a glance away from my captive. The street had transformed into a war zone. Smoke billowed from burning vehicles, obscuring visibility. My brothers fought with ruthless efficiency, but we were outnumbered.

“Hold the line!” I roared, hoping my voice carried over the din.

Beneath me, the cartel leader bucked, nearly dislodging my grip. I slammed him back down, pinning him with my full weight.

“You’re finished,” I growled. “Tell me where --”

A flash of movement caught my eye. Pure instinct took over.

I rolled, narrowly avoiding the spray of bullets that tore into the pavement where I’d been kneeling. My captive wasn’t so lucky. He jerked and went still, caught in the crossfire.

“Shit!” I scrambled for cover behind a burnt-out car, my heart pounding. Where the hell had that come from? Had they killed one of their own on purpose?

Another burst of gunfire answered my question. A sniper, hidden in one of the upper windows. I was pinned down, exposed, with no clear shot.

“Wire!” I barked into my comm. “I need eyes on that shooter, now!”

The bullet sliced across my bicep, a line of fire that ignited every nerve. I hissed through clenched teeth, adrenaline dulling the worst of it. No time for pain. Not now.

“Second floor, northwest corner!” Wire said.

I took a steadying breath, letting the familiar rage fuel me. In one fluid motion, I pivoted from behind the car, my gun already raised. The world narrowed to my sights and the shadowy figure in the window.

Two shots. Clean. Precise.

The sniper’s rifle clattered to the street below. A beat of silence, then the thud of a body following.

“Target neutralized.” I scanned for any other immediate threats.

A low chuckle drew my attention. The cartel leader had dragged himself to his feet, blood seeping from a wound in his side. I’d thought for sure the fucker was dead, but no such luck. The fact he was standing wasn’t the issue. It was the gun in his hand making my blood run cold.

---