“Rupert, look out!” I roared.
My voice was distraction enough.
The man grunted as I ran straight into his stomach. I knocked him back into the club, onto the floor that kicked up dust around us. I straddled the man and threw the first punch, feeling his nose breaking against my knuckles. I watched him fiddling with his gun so I wrapped my hand around his wrist, smashing it against the ground, over and over, watching his grip weaken.
Finally I smashed his hand down against a rusty nail protruding from the floor.
“What the fuck!”
“Let go of the goddamn gun.”
The growl of my voice sounded like someone else. I felt my nostrils flaring as the beast inside rattled against its cage. My eyes widened and I threw another punch. And then another. And then another still. I felt the man’s faceplate shattering with every hit. He gurgled on his own damn blood as it poured from his nose and seeped from his ears.
I’d show this man no mercy for pointing a gun at Rupert.
I didn’t even hear the gunshot before the bullet grazed my shoulder. The searing pain was enough to pull me from my trance. The man beneath me groaned as I hissed with shock. Then I felt someone grip my leather jacket.
“Get the hell off him.”
I slipped out of my jacket and spun around, ready for another fight. The club owner stood there with wide eyes and disheveled hair. I mean, he looked like he was high on something.
“Bring it,” I glowered.
“Guards! Get him!”
The trampling of feet behind me sprang me into action. I hooked around with my right fist, connecting with the club owner’s jaw, knocking him out cold. I scooped up my leather jacket and tossed it around my shoulders as I ran out the door, my head swiveling to look for Rupert.
“Two! Where the fuck are you!?” I roared.
I heard a bike engine revving as footsteps grew louder behind me. Three short revs and a long one. Three short revs and a long one.
The club’s universal signal for ‘Get the fuck out of Dodge.’
With pain inching down my arm, I dashed for my bike. There were too many of those assholes around here for the five of us that were still left to take care of this place. I’d have words with Mr. Dean about it, but not tonight.
Right now, I had to get my men out of here.
“Two!” I bellowed.
I threw my leg over my bike as four brawny security men dressed in all black poured onto the sidewalk.
“Two!” I roared.
“Right here! I’m right here! Come on, One. We have to get out of here!”
I watched Rupert race down the road, leaving me in his dust. I counted my men as they filtered out of the alleyway, making sure I had everyone before I pushed away from the curb. Gunfire exploded behind us. Bullets whizzed and I heard the shattering of rear lights as we sped away. I pulled up beside Rupert and saw his bloodied nose. His eye was already swelling and turning black. And as I studied my men while making my way to the front of the pack, anger flared in my gut.
I hit the throttle on my bike, leaving that damn club in my dust with my men in tow.
We barely made it out of there alive.
As we cut our way through town, all of my thoughts fell back to my fucking father. He could’ve gotten us all killed with a job like this. I was under the impression that risks were minimized. That we weren’t to expect firefights unless absolutely necessary. But a ten-minute meeting before the club owner opened fire on us?
It was almost like we should’ve expected war in the first fucking place.
It’s a miracle no one’s dead right now.
The pain in my arm blossomed like a damn flower all the way down to my fingertips. My men had gotten very roughed up tonight. And this was only the first night of guarding this asshole. I needed more information. I needed to know who the hell this character was, what the fuck had happened in that meeting, and I needed someone to foot the bill for the things we needed. Decent earpieces. Extra magazines to carry with us. Hell, some bulletproof gear, too. We weren’t prepared for war. We weren't prepared to usher a slaughterer through these streets.