Page 42 of Filthy and Dirty with the Bikers

What the hell is happening?

Outside, snowflakes fall lazily from the sky and a crowd gathers on the opposite side of the street as a siren sounds in the distance.

Holden strips off his suit coat and lands it on Rosie’s shoulders. Her coat is still in the shop. “Rhett should be here any second. When he gets here, I’ll go after Maverick. Tell me you understand.” His voice is doing the thing again. The thing where he wants me to know how serious he is. The thing where he wants me to agree with him without question, but I don’t want to. I want to go into the building with him. I want to fight for Maverick, too. I want us doing things together like the family we are.

“Holy shit, trouble.” Rhett jogs toward me in jeans and a tight black work shirt. “What the hell’s going on?”

“Maverick’s in there. They… we have to go inside.” My voice is frantic, and though I’ve stopped actively bellyache crying, tears are still falling.

“I need you all to wait on the other side of the street,” the young police officer says as he pulls his gun from the holster and steps sideways into the flower shop. “I’ve got back-up on the way.”

If Maverick hasn’t killed Tyler already, I’m going to do it for him. How did I ever trust a man who’d hurt me like this?

“He’s okay.” Rhett brushes his rough hand down over my cheek. “The dude is tough as hell, and he’s done all kinds of training with that gun. Combat fitness, close quarters, defense. You name it, he’s probably done it.”

I want to believe that Rhett is right, but the silence surrounding us is deafening.

Rhett’s hand rests on my belly. “You’re okay. Everything’s going to be okay.”

Seconds pass like hours, and every single breath I take is baited as I watch the shop door for any sign of life.

A moment later, the ambulance arrives with its stark, bellowing cry of sirens.

My stomach twists. This isn’t good. We heard two guns, with two distinct bangs. It’s just like the old west. Two men with guns at high noon. I glance up at Rhett and then Holden all while trying to catch what little air I can.

Rosie glances at me. “Owen is here. I’m gonna go see him. I’m sure he’ll want to make sure I’m okay and give me a ride home. Are you okay here?”

I lean onto her chest, holding her tight. “I’m so sorry for this. I… I love you.”

“Love you, too. Don’t be sorry. You didn’t show up waving a gun around. Do me a favor, though. Ask Google if I should stick around for questioning.”

I roll my eyes. I know she’s trying to help, but now’s not the time. “I’ll tell the police where to find you.”

“It’s going to be okay. I’ll be right over there.” She points to a big, black pickup truck on the other side of the parking lot.

“Okay.”

When I glance back at the guys, their faces are worn with worry. The paramedics are moving at the pace of snails, slowly pulling the gurney from the back.

I feel like I’m a patient girl. I spent years in an abusive relationship trying to make it work. I let folks out ahead of me in traffic. And when a customer comes in angry, I always keep my cool. But right now, in this moment, with my muscles tight and my body shaking, I lose it.

Pushing away from the circle I’m being held in, I rush across the street, screaming, “Help him! Why are you moving so slow! He’s hurt! He needs you! Please!”

Holden grabs my shoulders and holds me back before Rhett lifts me up into his arms. I’m not sure why I’m kicking and screaming. I know he’s trying to help, but I can’t stop. I’m sotired. I’m so tired of thinking I’m happy only to have Tyler rip it all away again.

“Baby.” Maverick’s voice is rough and quiet, but it’s there.

His fucking voice is there.

Rhett lets me down and I twist back to the doorway of the flower shop to see him standing in the doorframe, blood spilling down his leg. My knees nearly buckle, and I cover my mouth, smiling slowly as I run toward him, nearly knocking his giant body to the ground as we touch. “You’re alive and you’re okay. You’re okay, right?”

He kisses my head. “I’m good, baby. Just a little beat up. Tyler, ugh, he didn’t have the same outcome, though.” His gaze meets mine. “I’m sorry.”

My eyes widen and expand as I come to terms with what Maverick is saying.

“I’m sorry,” he continues. “It just happened. He shot first, and it was instinct.”

Time slows down, and though I hate Tyler with a passion for everything he’s done, I can’t believe he’s dead. My hand slaps over my mouth, and though my first thought should be sadness, it’s not.

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