Page 60 of Devil to Pay: Cutter

“You and our kid are all I care about in this world. Dropping you off. You run inside.”

It hurts to do it, to give him this, but for him to stand a chance, he can’t be worried about me.

“I love you,” I whisper.

As he slows the truck, he wraps his hand around the back of my neck, pulling me in for a beautiful kiss. The kind that makes me cry harder because it feels like a goodbye.

The bike engines rumble loudly behind us.

His tires squeal when he stops abruptly next to the front door of the bar. I bend in to kiss him once more before hopping out, but I don’t get the chance to open the door of the bar because it’s pushed open. Two large younger men and like five older dudes file out.

“Fuck’s going on?” one of the men, one of the older ones, barks.

The bikes are closing in.

“Get her safe,” Cutter yells, then he speeds off.

“Talk,” the old man says to me.

“My name is Aja. That’s Cutter, my old man. He’s part of the Kentucky Bedlam Horde.”

“The ones that help those women a while back?” one of the younger ones asks. “Saw that story on the news.” He’s handsome in a rugged sort of way. Dark hair, piercing eyes so dark, they’re almost black.

“Yes. I was kidnapped and escaped. They released me from the hospital today. We were supposed to have an escort, but our compound back in Kentucky was attacked this morning. Women and children,” I rush out.

The handsome man and his friend glance at each other then run for the two bikes.

“Get her inside,” the older man orders and immediately, hands go to my arm to start tugging me inside the bar while several of the men pull out firearms and run for the trucks. There’s hardly time to watch them tear out of the parking lot before the man ushering me shoves me inside the bar.

I hate involving strangers in my mess, but if they can keep Cutter safe, then I’ll involve the entire freaking world.

20

CUTTER

Every glance through the rearview window has those assholes still on my tail. They aren’t gaining on me, but they aren’t falling away. There’s no way I’m going to be able to outrun them.

I have to make a stand. At least Aja and the baby are safe. I don’t want to die, but something has to give here.

There’s a bend up ahead. There. That’s where it happens. My truck is about to be totaled, but better my truck if I can take a few of those bastards out and maybe give myself a fighting chance.

Right past the bend, I tug hard on the steering wheel, spinning the truck so it covers both sides of the road broadside, the passenger side about to take the brunt of the impact. Then I jump out, making for the treeline so they don’t see me and I don’t end up as collateral damage along with the truck.

Gun raised and cocked, I wait. The rumbles aren’t far behind. The first several bikes round the corner at high speed, going far too fast to brake and they never see this coming. Four bikes plough into my truck, sending the drivers flipping head over ass until crashing hard onto the pavement. Blood, brains and skin cover the surface. One of the pickups tries to turn, but the driver can’t turn fast enough, smashing into the side of my truck, pinning him inside his. The crunch and the scraping of metal are almost drowned out by the agonized shrieks of pain from the man inside. He wasn’t wearing a seatbelt and the dumbfuck had the airbags turned off because they don’t deploy. The rest of the men manage to slow and swerve, avoiding the collision. That’s when I open fire, not giving them the chance to find me first.

It’s carnage the way bullets go flying. But it too soon becomes apparent that I’m on the losing end of this rampage. I have too few bullets left and there are still too many of them standing, even though I took out several already.

I hear the pop and turn my body away from the direction of the sound in just enough time to miss being struck by a kill shot. The shooter doesn’t miss completely; the bullet tears through my shoulder and out the other side. It won’t kill me, but it hurts like a son of a bitch and puts my firing arm out of commission. I can’t fucking believe this.

“God,” I whisper with my eyes tipped up to the sky. “If you’re listening, I have a huge ask here. I’d love it if you let me get home to my woman, but if this is it for me, please, you gotta take care of Aja and the baby.”

Even though the pain is blinding with intensity, I try to raise my arm to pop off another shot when two more bikes race around the bend. They manage to turn, the bikes skidding on their sides as two men roll. They stand, opening fire. That shit looks right out of a movie. At first it looks like they’re coming for me, but they’re taking out the Death Bringers who are left and the Satan’s Apostles who joined them.

While these young bucks draw fire, trucks round the bend, skidding to a stop. Older men hop out brandishing .38s, but there are a few shotguns aimed at the melee and it hits me that these are the men from the bar I left Aja at.

Right before my eyes, the last man falls, his life snuffed out by these badasses. I’m so relieved that my body begins to shake from the adrenaline crash and I drop to my knees. “Aja?” I ask when it’s over.

“Shit,” one of the young ones says. “You’re hit.”

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