Page 20 of Riot

The pack shot past us, going after the Vendetta. In my mirror, I spotted the Vendetta making fast U-turns before speeding away.

Mayhem laughed but didn’t look so hot. He swayed slightly, his color slowly draining. He wasn’t going to make it through the next block, let alone the three miles to home. Racing past the van, I signaled Merk to stop. He pulled over as Mayhem stopped at the curb behind him.

His bike went down, taking him with it.

“Mayhem!” I was off my bike and running toward him in seconds.

Merk jumped out of the van and cursed.

“What happened?” He opened the back doors.

“He caught a bullet.” We grabbed the heavy motorcycle and yanked it off Mayhem. “We need to get him home where he can shift.”

In his wolf form, the bullet would work its way out, a scar left in its place.

We deadlifted a giant unconscious Mayhem, who’d passed out on the curbside grass. “Fuck, he’s heavy.”

“He’s killing my back,” Merk grunted as we carried him to the van. We hefted him on top of the crates like excess cargo. He hit the boxes in a heap of limbs.

“He’s gonna be pissed if he ever finds out how we just tossed him like a rag doll.” I slammed the doors closed.

Merk glanced at me, the side of his mouth twitching.

“Guess we don’t tell him.”

“Maybe after he heals.” I grinned. “Gotta let him know, I think.”

“What about his hog?”

“I’ll lock his bike. Come back for it later,” I said. “Let’s get moving.”

At least now, if Mayhem shifted, he would be safe inside the van. No crashing or eyewitnesses.

Merk took off as I secured Mayhem’s bike, my anger flaring. The Vendetta had been after our cargo. There wasn’t any other explanation. They’d shown up at the exact location, the precise time, with enough men to quickly lock down the situation.

Why they’d waited so long before making their move was a mystery I didn’t have the energy to solve.

I needed coffee, to make sure Mayhem healed, and my mate tucked safely in my arms.

Running a hand through my hair, I walked back to my bike, glancing toward the strip of stores that hadn’t opened up yet. No witnesses. Good.

One less problem to worry about.

Chapter Five

Calvin

The breeze outside the laundromat felt good on my skin, cutting through the humid film of sweat and detergent that clung after every shift. Summer in Temptation wasn’t supposed to be anything but dry, but in the corner lot where the Wash-O-Matic sat, it always felt like you were standing in the exhaust of a thousand hairdryers. The building was a box of brick and scorched glass built just after the war, repainted and retrofitted with upgraded machines that still managed to sound like tanks rolling over a field.

Lighting my cigarette, I leaned against the chipped cinder block wall and let the smoke drag heat and tension from my chest. Two more hours and my shift would be over. Normally I didn’t care about the time. But today was different.

Today, I was seeing Riot after work. Every time I thought about it, my chest felt like it was about to vibrate out of my body, like the inside was made of glass and the sound of his name alone could shatter it.

I tried not to fixate on that, but I was staring at the clock through the smeared front windows, willing it to move faster.

I took a deep drag, felt the burn snap behind my eyes, and tried to remind myself that I’d survived Riot before. He was just a guy. A guy who’d pulled me into his orbit, who could make me laugh with one word, who looked at me like I was worth more than a handful of quarters for the spin cycle. But also a guy who could be trouble, the kind that left you bleeding and grinning in equal measure.

I’d barely exhaled before the laundromat door swung open so hard it rattled the frame. Mrs. Hensley stood there, clutching a laundry bag tight to her chest like she was afraid someone might snatch it. Her hair was a swirl of gray in lacquered waves, and her glasses magnified her eyes until she looked perpetually startled.