Page 23 of Psycho

In a blur of movement, Arrow hooked an arm around me, crushing me against his chest, and we hit the floor. The weight of his body against my back knocked the breath out of my lungs.

Bruiser’s heavy footsteps thundered toward the kitchen door, followed by a quick pop-pop-pop of return fire.

There was blood on my hands, and I could taste the metallic tang of it on my tongue. Arrow clutched me so tightly that it was a miracle my ribs didn’t crack.

“We know you’re in there, Psycho,” a man’s voice called. “Come out and play. Payback is gonna be a fucking bitch.”

Chapter seven

Psycho

I recognized the sound of Huxley’s voice, taunting me. Bobbie trembled, probably scared out of her damn mind. Fuck, this was the last thing she needed right now.

The gunshots stopped, but the motorcycles continued to rev at a deafening level. I brushed Bobbie’s hair out of her face and rolled her over, making sure she wasn’t hurt. Blood stained her teeth and her hands were painted red.

Bile burned in the back of my throat and I could have sworn my heart stopped beating.

“Shit, honey, you’re bleeding—”

“I’m okay,” Bobbie said, fighting to catch her breath. “It’s just…it’s glass. I cut my hands on the glass when we hit the floor. And I…I must have bit my tongue. I’m not—I wasn’t—I haven’t been…shot.”

She was shaking so hard in shock that she could barely speak. I grabbed a dish towel and bunched it up, pressing it to her bloody hands. Cupping her face, I skimmed my thumb along her lower lip.

“Can you show me?” I prompted.

Bobbie blinked then smirked a little and stuck her tongue out at me.

“Classy,” I said dryly.

To my relief, she had no other injuries. Just a bite to her tongue and a few minor cuts and scratches from the glass. God, I shuddered to think how much worse it could have been.

“Psycho,” Bruiser barked. “They’re coming in.”

Swearing under my breath, I tucked Bobbie into a sheltered corner of the kitchen, with her back against the cabinets. Digging my phone out of my pocket, I shoved it into her hands.

“Stay low. Call for backup, and tell them to haul ass.”

Bobbie nodded, wide-eyed. Despite her shock, she didn’t freak out. I was so fucking proud of her for keeping a cool head amid the crisis.

I risked a glance through the now-gaping kitchen window to see five or six Rebels milling around outside. That wasn’t even half of their club. But that still left us outnumbered.

A booming thud echoed against the front door as someone tried to break it down. My pistol was in a safe upstairs in my closet. With no time to retrieve it, I had to come up with another way to defend myself.

My gaze fell on the box of lawn mower engine parts, and I spotted a wrench poking out. I grabbed it like a club, satisfied at the weight of it in my grip.

Then the door splintered, the lock buckled, and Huxley barged into my home, carrying a pistol. Two Rebels flanked him. He bared his teeth with a wolfish grin.

“I wish you could see the look on your face right now.”

“Well, I wish that you’d been shivved in prison, to give you a little taste of your own medicine,” I bit back. “But I guess we can’t always get what we want, right?”

Huxley’s eyes darkened and his grin turned into a sneer.

“You mouthed off to me once before. Sounds like you didn’t learn your lesson. I’ll have to teach you again. And I’ll make sure it really sticks this time.”

I could hear a scuffle emanating from the direction of the kitchen door as Bruiser did his best to prevent the Rebels from swarming us. We couldn’t hold them off for long, but we just needed to distract them until The Reckless Order showed up.

“We have an agreement between our clubs,” I reminded him. “We’re on peaceful terms.”