Page 16 of Honey Heat
The deputy’s mouth curved into a smirk as he removed the toothpick from his lips. “Public indecency for starters. Didn’t your mama teach you to keep your shirt on in civilized society?”
Chopper’s jaw tightened. Mariana was a sweet woman with a big heart. Gilmore even mentioning her made Chopper want to knock the guy’s teeth down his throat.
“I’m changing shirts.” He gestured to the wet clothing draped over his bike seat. “Unless that’s illegal now too?”
Gilmore’s smirk widened as he reached behind his back and pulled out a gun. Not his service weapon. This was a personal piece, smaller and easier to conceal. Untraceable.
“Been waiting for a chance to catch one of you mongrels alone,” Gilmore said, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper.
Chopper recognized the threat a second too late. The gunshot echoed across the quiet countryside as the bullet tore through him.
He dropped to his knees, hands instinctively pressing against the spreading warmth on his stomach.
From the saddlebag came frightened whimpers, tiny and desperate. The puppy sensed danger but thankfully stayed hidden. Chopper fell sideways onto the gravel, each breath sending fresh waves of agony through his body.
“Always hated you scum,” Gilmore said, approaching with the gun still aimed at Chopper. His boots crunched on the gravel, each step bringing him closer. “It’ll be my pleasure to rid Blackthorn of your menacing presence, one piece of biker trash at a time.”
He aimed the gun at Chopper’s head, his face twisted with cruel satisfaction. Chopper bared his canines, a low growl rumbling from his chest despite the pain.
The bastard wouldn’t have the satisfaction of seeing him beg.
The sudden roar of an engine starting up in a nearby driveway made Gilmore’s head snap around. A truck was backing out of a garage, the driver oblivious to the scene unfolding on the roadside.
With a curse, the deputy tucked the weapon away. He bent down, bringing his face close to Chopper’s. His breath reeked of stale coffee and cigarettes as he spat, the glob of saliva landing beside Chopper’s head.
“This isn’t over,” Gilmore said, offering a mocking two-finger salute before he retreated to his cruiser.
Tires spun on asphalt as Gilmore accelerated away, leaving Chopper bleeding on the roadside. He wanted to shift, but it wouldn’t do him any good. No matter what form he took, he wouldn’t be able to heal his wound quick enough.
The sun beat down mercilessly, flies already beginning to buzz around the blood seeping into the dirt. The puppy’s frightened whines seemed to come from far away now.
“Hang on, little one,” Chopper whispered, his voice rough with pain. “Help’s coming.”
At least he hoped it was. The message to Matias had gone through, but would the pack find him in time? The thought of dying on this lonely stretch of road, with only a terrified puppy as witness, wasn’t how he’d pictured his end.
Fighting against the encroaching darkness, Chopper dragged himself toward his bike, leaving a smeared trail of blood behind him. Each movement sent fresh agony rippling through his gut. He needed to reach his phone, needed to call this time, but his limbs felt heavier with each passing second.
The puppy’s whimpering grew more insistent, tiny paws scratching at the inside of the saddlebag. Chopper’s fingers finally closed around his phone, but they were too slick with blood to grip properly. The device clattered to the ground, just out of reach.
“Shit,” he gasped, collapsing onto his side. The sky above seemed impossibly blue, clouds drifting lazily across his dimming vision. How strange that such a beautiful day would be his last.
In the distance, the rumble of approaching motorcycles cut through his fading consciousness. His pack was coming for him.
Engines idled, and boots pounded against the ground. Familiar voices called his name as hands pressed against his wound. Faces swam in and out of focus above him.
“We got you, brother,” someone said. Suero, maybe. “Just hold on.”
Chopper’s gaze drifted to the saddlebag. “Puppy,” he whispered then coughed, sending a spray of blood onto the dirt. “She’s scared.”
His eyes drifted shut against his will, and the last thing he heard was someone shouting his name before consciousness slipped away entirely.
Chapter Five
Ethan wasn’t sure how long he’d been out. When he finally drifted awake and managed to blink his eyes open, he found himself alone in the clinic.
It felt… weird, considering he hadn’t been alone a single moment since arriving. Or since he’d been conscious.
Slowly, he sat up. His muscles were stiff, but at least they weren’t aching anymore, like someone was pressing a hot coal to his ribs. He’d call that a win.
