Page 38 of Dr Feel Good
The thought made my lip quirk into a smile and made me realize that once we were out of this mess, a serious conversation was due.
“How many guns you got here?” Michelle demanded, her eyes and voice sharper than I was used to, reminding me that she wasn’t just my fiery submissive, but a woman who’d thrived in the underworld for well over a decade.
“Three,” I answered, already heading to my closet, where my shotguns lay in a case. “A pistol and two shotguns.”
“Get all of them,” she ordered, trailing behind me. “And don’t open the door unless I say so.”
I cocked a brow at her bossiness but nodded. If the situation weren’t so dire, I’d remind her of the consequences of ordering me about. However, I was smart enough to recognize that I was in over my head. Thus, I’d keep my mouth shut and allow her to take the lead.
“What now?” I asked once I retrieved the guns.
“We get low on the floor and stay away from windows and the door.”
By the time she finished her sentence, she was already lying on the floor, a hard stare silently urging me to do the same. The novelty of the situation was wearing off, replaced by apprehension. This was potentially a life-or-death situation, and a wrong move could end in disaster.
We were silent as we waited on the wooden floors, each second feeling like an eternity. The sound of motorcycle engines was replaced with tense silence, which was soon interrupted by loud banging on my front door.
“Anyone in there?” A man boomed, loud enough to travel through the walls of my small cabin.
“Shit,” Michelle hissed. “Razor.”
“Who the fuck is that?” I whisper-yelled, not looking forward to meeting a man with such a name.
“President of the KC Royal Bastards, and possible traitor,” she explained in a hurry, adjusting herself so she could aim the shotgun at the door. “He might’ve set me and Fendi up to be killed.
A chill ran through me. Michelle made a remarkably speedy recovery, but if I hadn’t been so well stocked with medical supplies, she likely would’ve joined her friend in the afterlife.
“Michelle?” another man called, the sound of his voice making her scowl.
“And who the hell is that?” I demanded, my heart dropping at the thought of getting into a shootout.
Based on numbers, it wouldn’t be hard to tell who the losers would be.
“Warrior,” she replied absently, hyper-focused on the door. “Another Bastard, and my ex.”
“What?” I said sharper than intended, unable to help the jealousy rushing through me.
She’d told me bits and pieces about her life, including her relationship with Warrior. At the time, I took it in stride, because I never expected to meet the man, much less face the possibility of engaging in a gunfight with him.
Silence fell again, before a loud crash sounded, one that had me jumping and Michelle tensing.
“We could’ve picked the lock, you fucking idiot,” the first man—Razor—scolded, his voice nearing the bedroom door.
“That would’ve taken too long, Prez,” Warrior replied, heavy footsteps drawing uncomfortably close.
Conversation died down as they opened the doors to the bathroom and the hallway closet. When they opened the bedroom door, Michelle didn’t hesitate to fire her gun. The person had the foresight to use the door as a shield, so her bullet ended up embedding itself in my wall instead of a human body.
“Michelle?” a woman said from behind the door, her voice hesitant. “You in there, sis?”
“Lake,” Michelle breathed, abandoning her shotgun and scurrying to her feet.
I made sure to grab the weapon, not wanting my cabin to become a crime scene.
The guns safely in my grasp, I followed her out of the room, just in time to see her embracing a tall woman with mahoganycurls, and a Royal Harlots leather vest on. Or a cut, as Michelle had called it.
The woman was taller than Michelle, though just as slender, and when they separated, I saw that she had hazel eyes with more green than brown, instead of Michelle’s golden-brown.
“Where’s Juno, Lake?” Michelle asked, her voice thick with emotion.
