Page 21 of Emmy's Ride

Then… a crash. A shout.

The door to the back hallway flew open, and suddenly everything erupted. Two men burst into the room, guns drawn. I grabbed Emmy and shoved her behind me. “Get down!”

She didn’t argue. She dropped low just as a shot rang out.

The bullet whizzed past her head, and my heart fucking stopped. I didn’t think. I lunged. My fist connected with bone, asickening crack filling the air as I grabbed the closest man and slammed his head against the bar.

Someone yelled. Another shot fired. Glass shattered.

Emmy gasped.

I turned just in time to see one of the bastards reach for her. A surge of rage blinded me.

Before the guy could pull her away, I was there, grabbing him by the back of the head and slamming him into a table so hard the wood split in two.

The man groaned, crumpling to the floor. The fight was over in seconds. My chest heaved, my knuckles bloodied, my adrenaline spiking so intensely I could barely fucking breathe.

As I straightened, a Vulture got his hands on Emmy. The bastard sneered, dragging her toward a back hallway. Our eyes connected, hers begging me to save her and mine promising she would be safe. I moved to follow, but Grinder stepped in my way.

“Easy now,” Grinder said, his grin widening. “Rat is just going to have a little chat with her. In fact, there’s a few guys here who’d love to chat with a cunt like that.”

My restraint snapped. In one move, I had Grinder against the nearest wall, forearm crushing his windpipe.

“You just signed your fucking death warrant,” I snarled.

He just kept grinning. “Then you better hurry, Prez. Cap isn’t one for long conversation.”

I released him roughly, his evil laugh following me as I shoved past and stormed toward the back hallway.

I reached the door at the end and kicked it in.

Emmy was on the bed, hands up, eyes locked on the man hovering over her. His knee pressed into the mattress, one hand gripping her wrist, the other reaching for her shirt.

I didn’t think. I acted.

I grabbed the bastard by the back of his head and slammed it into the wall once, twice, until the drywall cracked. The guygroaned, but I didn’t give him a second to recover. I yanked him back and threw him into the dresser, wood splintering on impact. He didn’t get up after that.

Breathing hard, I turned to Emmy. Her hands were shaking. She sat frozen for a second, then inhaled raggedly and hurled herself at me.

I caught her on instinct, arms locking tightly around her. For a heartbeat, neither of us spoke.

Then her fingers curled into my cut, voice muffled against my chest. “I’m sorry. I should have stayed in the car, but a group of men drove up, they had guns, and they went behind the building. I thought they were setting you up. I wanted to warn you.”

My hand came up, smoothing over the back of her head. “Yeah, you should have, and I should have known you’d never listen.”

She just held on tighter. And this time, she didn’t pull away. My first sign that she was really shook up.

I tightened my arms around her as I strode through the wrecked remains of Rusty’s, my boots crunching over shards of glass and broken wood. The stillness of her in my hold was all wrong—too silent—and it made something jagged wedge itself deep into my chest.

She should have been fighting me. Snarling at me to put her the hell down. Instead, she was quiet.

The bartender stood frozen behind the counter, wide-eyed as he took in the destruction—the overturned tables, the busted-up Vultures groaning on the floor, Grinder still slumped against the wall, rubbing his throat.

I barely spared them a glance as I stalked toward the exit. I paused only once, turning my head just enough to fix the bartender with a menacing stare.

“You made a big fucking mistake,” I said. “Rusty’s is on my shit list now. You’ll be hearing from me real soon.”

The bartender’s Adam’s apple bobbed visibly as he swallowed, but I didn’t wait for a response. I pushed through the doors into the night air, my arms instinctively tightening around Emmy as she shivered against me.

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