Page 76 of Steel

I don’t know who the fuck it is, but they had to have been watching the shop, unless this is just some random. That’s the least likely fucking scenario though. Not in my goddamn life.

Bryson glides his bike closer to mine. “What’s the plan?” he yells.

My brain starts working through road maps, running through the options to find the best spots that will have the least chance of us getting killed.

Too bad we’re not going to get to implement them. These fuckers are ready to start the fight now if that goddamn bullet that barely missed is any indication.

Holding the handlebars tightly in one hand, I reach into my cut with the other and grab my gun from my shoulder holster, flicking off the safety. Then I lift my left foot up so I can grab the other gun strapped to my ankle.

The bike wobbles as another shot rings out, and with a growl, I turn quickly and fire a shot over my shoulder. It’s fucking dark, and their damn headlights make it where I can’t see shit, so I don’t even know where the hell I’m aiming. I’m hoping I get lucky enough that it hits fucking somewhere vital on either the driver or the vehicle.

“The goddamn plan is stay fuckin’ alive,” I holler as I pass over the other pistol I was finally able to yank from my ankle holster.

We both take carefully aimed shots over our shoulders as we try to keep from laying our bikes down.

I’m watching the road in front of us as Bryson lets off another shot. My eyes flick to the side mirror just as a sharp pain pierces my shoulder, yanking a grunt from my chest.

The lights of the vehicle go back and forth for a second before a loud crunch of metal and glass against asphalt accompany it. Bryson and I slow our bikes enough that we can turn around and head back toward them.

Smoke slithers through the mangled metal, and angry hisses of broken hoses greet us as we reach the wreckage.

Blood drips down my arm as I climb from my bike, the slow glide building the inferno that was already burning inside me.

A groan escapes the man hanging halfway out the upside-down vehicle, and I aim a toothy smile at him as I reach in to grab a fistful of bloody hair and pull him the rest of the way out. “Oh, good. You’re still breathin’. That means I get the pleasure of killin’ you up close and personal.”

The man blinks pain-filled eyes at me, and I can tell he’s still a bit doozy from the crash.

I lean him against the broken vehicle, not giving a shit when he cries out from a piece of metal going into his skin. “Who are you?” I tap the barrel of my gun against his cheek. “I’d pay attention if I was you. I’m in a bad mood, and I’m really mean when I’m in a bad mood. Who the fuck are you?”

The man’s eyes become a little more focused. “Someone sent to take you out.”

“Well, golly gee, don’t know what gave that away.” Placing my gun under his chin, I glance over my shoulder at Bryson. “Check the van. If there’s anyone else, bring them to me.”

He hesitates, and I wait him out. This is a choice he needs to make on his own. It’s a path he needs to take on his own. The darkness is there, begging to be let out, pleading for a chance to make an entrance and show its true self and what it can do. He just has to be willing to let it.

I almost smile when I see it come over him, but I keep my eyes locked to his, allowing him to see the same darkness in mine. Sometimes, all you need is to know you’re not alone.

Bryson gives a perceptible nod and takes off to the other side.

I turn my attention back to the man under my gun. “Who sent you after me?”

“You understand loyalty.”

Which means he’s not going to give me shit.

There are ways to make him talk. Most people break in the end, but that means bringing the club in, and if this is Killer’s man, I’m going to have another set of problems on my hands before I figure out how to tell Wraith what the fuck is going on.

Heaving a sigh, I nod. “You’re right. I do. Useless to me if you’re not goin’ to give me anything. See you in hell.”

“I’ll save you a seat,” he says right before I pull the trigger.

Fucking fuck.

Goddamn it.

Stepping back, I let the lifeless body fall from my grasp and lift the bottom of my t-shirt to wipe the blood from my face.

Fucking hate close shots. They’re messy as fuck. Now, I’m going to have to ride the rest of the way home with this shit all over me.

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