Page 77 of Diesel
“Crank?” I make myself small as fire is returned.
“I’d guess so. He’s scared. Knows we’re comin’ for him. Bet he figured we’d be like rats in a barrel in here.”
The gunfire keeps going, a nonstop cacophony of noise. We both fire back, the minutes feeling like eons.
Eventually, it stops and there’s silence again.
“Clear!” someone yells from down the hallway.
My ears are ringing, and the smell of cordite is thick in the air. I shake my head as I stand slowly, but it doesn’t clear the fuzz.
We move carefully, keeping low just in case. Riot stops me in the hallway. “You didn’t have to put me down like that,” he says.
“You’re club, and despite what you think, that does mean something to me.”
He scans my face, like he’s searching for the lie. “Right. Well, thanks. Doesn’t mean I trust you still,” he says, but his lips twitch.
“Of course not.”
When we get back to the living room, there’s debris everywhere. The windows are gone, wood shards scattered across the carpet. Nic’s bleeding from his bicep, but he’s still barking orders.
He turns as we join the others, giving us both a once over before he continues.
In groups, we head outside, keeping close. Staying low. Riot and Fury follow me toward the tree line, where we were being fired at. It doesn’t take long to find the bodies. Two guys. Not club. No kuttes. No one we know.
Fury bends, his eyes tight. “Mercs, maybe?”
“Wouldn’t put it past Crank,” Riot mutters, scanning the horizon like he’s expecting another shoot out.
I feel deflated as we climb back in the vans and drive back to the clubhouse. There’s dirt beneath my nails, and my back is aching. I stare at the soil on the shovels tossedon the van floor. More dead, but at least these weren’t brothers.
Sons.
No one speaks, but Riot watches me. Not like before. There’s still suspicion, but something else. Respect maybe. Confusion. Gratitude.
I don’t care. I put him down because it was the right thing to do.
Because even though he doesn’t trust me, I’m still fucking loyal.
Eventually, the van slows and then comes to a stop. I’m itching to get my hands on Makenna, to breathe her in. To feel her warmth against my cold skin.
For the first time all day it feels like the boot on my throat has been released. We made it out clean. No one was hurt. Everyone made it back. Even if we didn’t find Crank.
We’re barely out of the vans before Riley comes rushing out of the clubhouse. He jogs up to Nic, his eyes darting.
“We had a problem while you were gone.”
Cold spreads through me. Makenna.
“What kind of problem?” Nic demands.
“Chloe… she’s uh...” His eyes find mine and that cold becomes glacial. “Your old lady found her.”
Makenna? Found what? Fuck. My feet move before my brain gives the command. I push through my brothers, through the doors, into the main bar.
And I find her instantly. Even among the chaos in the room. I always do.
She’s sitting at a table, the girls flanking her. My chest loosens. She’s here. She’s alive.
