Page 58 of Decoding Morse

The passenger and back windows shattered.

That was a bullet.

The realization hit me at the same second Morgan screamed for her mother.

What the fuck do I do?

Stopping was out of the question, so I hit the gas and shouted, “Get down!”

Cool, spring air whipped through the car ruffling all the shit in the back. Thankfully, nothing flew out. Glass fragments littered the front seat, covering Amelia. Blood welled in a scratch across her cheek, but it wasn’t deep. Her focus was on her daughter.

“Morgan, you okay?” she asked. More glass fragments flew out the back window.

“Yes. Are you?”

She didn’t sound fine. Glancing in the rearview mirror, I found her huddled down, pressed against the driver’s side door. A large shard of glass protruded from the center of the passenger’s side seat, only inches above Amelia’s head. Morgan was staring at it, and all the color had drained from her face.

“I… I think so, sweetheart.” Amelia’s voice shook with fear. “Just a couple of shallow cuts.”

Thank fuck.

“What happened?” Amelia asked as Specks simultaneously requested a status update in my ear.

Before I could answer either of them, there was another crack.

Something popped, and then the car veered toward the ditch. I hit the brakes, slowing to a more manageable speed as I fought the steering wheel for control. Alarms dinged to life, alerting me that the rear passenger’s tire pressure was dangerously low. I needed a fucking plan. Judging by the two places we’d been hit, I knew where the bullets had come from.

“Shooter in the old barn. South side of the road.”

“Copy,” Specks said back. “Can you keep going?”

We were still within sniper range. The car continued to shimmy and quake as the flattened tire flapped against the road. We needed to stop and take care of it, but not here. “I can make it around the bend.”

“Want me to call the cops?”

“No. We’ll all be dead before they get here. I can handle this.” Belatedly, I glanced at Amelia, wishing I could take the words back because the sheer terror in her eyes made me want to swallow my goddamn tongue.

“Without killing anyone?” Specks asked, reminding me of my leash.

I was now a civilian. I wasn’t under anyone’s orders, so I’d be held accountable by the club, in addition to the law, for any fucked-up shit I did. But he didn’t understand the severity of the situation.

If Amelia hadn’t chosen that exact moment to recline her seat, she’d likely be dead.

Seething hatred like I’d never dreamed existed took root in my chest. “As long as they don’t force my hand.”

“I can live with that.”

Once I’d limped out of sight of the old barn, I flicked on my flashers and crawled to a stop on the shoulder.

Amelia’s fear was so damn palpable I could barely breathe, so I patted her leg and looked her in the eyes.

“I’ve got this.” The blood trickling down her cheek made me want to lose the tenuous lock-down I had on my rage, but that would accomplish nothing, and I had shit to do. “Stay down. Everything will be okay.”

I climbed out of the car and addressed my brothers, taking charge. “Prospect, you know how to change a tire?”

“Yessir.”

He and Specks had gotten off their bikes and were hurrying toward me. Specks had his hand on the Glock hidden beneath his cut, head on a swivel.

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