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“You walk out the door, and those fuckers will come for you,” he says.
“What the fuck are you thinking, Nadia?” Orion snaps, stalking toward me with the darkest, meanest look I’ve ever seen. He makes me feel small and suddenly helpless as he waves me away. “Go back upstairs, for fuck’s sake!”
“I can go; I can just leave right now,” I manage, but it’s too late.
Projectiles start flying, piercing the clubhouse windows.
POP. POP. POP.
I hear myself scream as Paddy throws his arm around me and pulls me out of their range. I’m crammed behind the jukebox and forced to stay down as the old biker takes his gun out and starts firing. The ten riders I saw mere moments ago are gradually approaching the front door and unloading entire clips into the building.
“Oh, fuck!” one of the men growls. He’s bleeding on the floor while one of the prospects ducks more incoming bullets and struggles to apply pressure to the wound with a clean towel.
Chaos is unraveling so quickly yet so slowly that I can barely make out the course of events. Paddy protects me with his whole body, his burly figure keeping me out of sight while Orion, Kai, and Drake take the lead.
They grab their weapons and start firing back.
“Holy shit, they’ve got a Gatling in the back of the pickup truck!” a prospect shouts.
Glasses and bottles explode all over the bar. I freeze, cold sweat pouring down my face as I hold my breath. My ears ring. and my muscles twitch with every bullet that misses us. My heart thuds faster than the rambling of Kai’s semiautomatic.
One by one, the Black Devils fall.
One by one, the Blackthorn Riders rise and gain momentum, some reloading while others cover them. It’s an organized defense, and I have to wonder what the hell Colton is thinking, sending his men in here like this. It’s a damn suicide mission.
Six are left standing, two of them hiding behind Blackthorn Riders’ motorcycles parked just outside. The clubhouse no longer has windows. They just keep firing, bullets dashing back and forth. The destruction is horrendous, yet I barely have a second to register any of it.
“Drake, cover me!” Kai snaps.
Drake obliges and empties a clip into the incoming Devils as Kai runs directly toward them, shooting one point blank in the chest and then taking a knife to another guy’s throat.
“Fuck!” I hear a Devil say when Orion reaches him. My man moves like a panther, incredibly agile and fast, using his whole body to deliver a most painful tackle before he puts a bullet in the guy.
“Two left,” Kai says once he’s done with the fourth guy.
“And the pickup!” Paddy shouts.
Orion darts across the parking lot, dodging the last of the Gatling’s bone-shattering bullets just as they struggle to reload and put a fresh belt into that horrifying weapon. Kai and Drake handle the last two Devils, aided by other club members.
I continue to hold my breath as Orion jumps into the back of the pickup truck and kills the assailants with remarkably swift and devastating blows.
So much violence.
“Are you okay?” Paddy asks me, but I can barely hear him through the ringing in my ears.
I’m shaking like a leaf, paralyzed to the core, and scared out of my mind as I struggle to register what’s happened. Sirens wail somewhere in the distance. I’ve got splinters from the bar furniture stuck in my hair, scratches all over my arms, and glass shards at my feet.
“Nadia!” Kai calls out as he rushes back in.
The smell of death fills my nostrils: burnt gunpowder and the coppery tinge of blood on the clubhouse floor.
This was calculated, and it wasn’t meant to result in a victory. Even I can tell that much. There are over twenty club members here and a shitload of weapons handy. The Black Devils only sent twelve guys and a Gatling?
“We got the Gatling,” one of the prospects says.
Orion gets out of the truck. Kai is in front of me, but as soon as I look at him, my vision gets blurry.
“Nadia, talk to me,” Kai breathlessly says. “Are you okay? Were you hit?”
