Page 179 of Beautifully Reckless

Ringo makes good on his promise. I’m absolutely spent by the time he rips the tenth orgasm from me like he’s conducting an exorcism. I don’t even remember falling asleep.

It’s the blare of his phone hours later that jolts me awake, just in time to hear him grumble a curse.

“Sorry, Angel. Let me grab that.” He presses a quick kiss to my forehead before rolling over to snatch his phone off the bedside table.

“Speak.”

I can’t make out the words spoken, but the fact I can hear them like someone is yelling, and the way Ringo stiffens, has me instantly on alert.

“When?” Ringo barks, leaping up out of bed. “Fuck. Okay. I’m on my way.”

Ending the call, he makes another putting it on speaker, tossing it on the bed as he quickly gets dressed.

“This better be a fucking emergency,” JD snaps before Ringo barks.

“Get dressed. The new compound is under attack.”

30

Never in my fucking life have I pushed my hog so hard, but we make the trip in just over an hour, guns drawn as our bikes tear up the tree-lined driveway of the new compound in Fox Pines.

All we find is carnage.

Several of our freshly-built structures are ablaze, flames chewing through the timber like it’s paper. A row of motorcycles simmers in coals, nothing but molten metal and smoke.

Apart from the light coming from the flames, it’s near impossible to see a damn thing in the suffocating dark.

Bullets rip through the air from the treeline, giving us no choice but to ditch our rides and haul arse into the old barn.

“Here!” Smitty’s familiar voice calls, and I look up just in time to see a sawn-off shotgun flying through the air towards me.

Catching the fucking thing, I check that it’s loaded, feeling Celina at my back as she shoves extra rounds into my pockets.

“Fill me in,” I bark, demanding an update as Celina moves to JD, stuffing his pockets the same way.

“Suicide trucker hit first. Took out the drug storage,” Smitty snarls, inspecting more weapons as he hands them off. “Then came the fucking dirt bikes. Lit the place up good before taking cover in the fucking trees.”

“And this has been going on for over an hour?” JD asks the same thing I’m wondering.

“Yeah, and our police contacts seem to be out of fucking reach.”

“Shit,” I mutter, a heavy knot forming in my gut. There’s no way Jason Zimora would let this happen. Not unless he’s been subdued… or worse. “Anyone called Griffin?”

“Of course we’ve called him,” Smitty snaps, looking at me like I’m a fucking idiot. “He’s unreachable too.”

Fuck. This isn’t just bad. This is completely fucked.

“How many are dead? Injured?” JD barks, and Smitty starts rattling off names.

“Among the dead is Kite. Roadie. Barts. Bowey and Zeus. No Doxies were killed but Darla and Nessy have been taken.”

Fuck… Barts. Roadie… and my fucking mate… Bowey. I knew Kite and Zeus, but not as well as the others.

Someone will fucking pay for this!

“Where’s the rest of my fucking team?” I snap, thankful Murf, Trunk and Stocky aren’t on the list.

“Murf and Trunk are working their way through the pines, trying to flank them from behind.” Smitty ushers us to the barn door, and I spare a quick glance at the Doxies huddled together, theircheeks stained with tears, some smeared with someone else’s blood.

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