“She hot?” Bellamy asks, and Monet’s face suddenly drops.
“Yeah, pretty hot.” Her tone is even, eyes not making contact. Something is up.
“I’ve got it. I’ll rescue her. Get me some cookies another way.” Bellamy waves us off, heading toward his motorcycle.
“What kind of car was she in?” I ask Monet, and she keeps her head down.
“Um, an older mustang.” Something doesn’t set right in my stomach. I look over my shoulder to Hollywood.
“Go with Bellamy.” Hollywood steps around me and gets on his bike to follow Bellamy without hesitation. As soon as the roar of the motors are in the distance, I grab Monet by the chin, forcing her look at me. I want to see her eyes. The sun shines through them like crystal orbs. They’re a light blue but I swear I see flecks of purple in them. Maybe it’s from the color of her shirt. An ear piercing horn has my head snapping up. Pins and needles spread across my chest just as gunshots start popping off.
“Godric?” Monet’s voice is sullen. She looks right at me, her eyes boring into mine, and says, “You might want to go get your brother. Now!”
I run past her, throw my leg over the seat of my bike, and pull out before the fucking kickstand is even up, hauling ass toward the gunshots. Motorcycles surround the white mustang. Hollywood and my brother are hunched down behind it on one side, the fucking Titans on the other side. A Titan with short black hair and huge ear gauges darts up over the side of his motorcycle and fires at Hollywood and Bellamy before dropping back down for cover. Hollywood and Bellamy are outnumbered and cowering as much as they can behind the car, their motorcycles on their sides.
It was a setup.
Monet baited us.
Stopping where I am on the road, I pull out my nine from the back of my jeans and aim at one silhouette. Inhaling a sharp breath, I pull the trigger, and the Titan falls to his death. At the roar of motorcycles pulling up, I spin, pointing the barrel of my gun me to drop whoever’s trying to creep up, only to find Pegs and Pax. They pull out their weapons and start firing at the Titans. Another body drops, then another. The last few standing decide they have no way of protecting themselves and ride off, one of them nearly dropping their bike as he speeds away. Putting my gun back into my waistband, I jog over to the Mustang to check on my brother and Hollywood. A girl is slumped down on the ground by the driver’s door. She took a bullet to the head, blood splattered behind her all over the car. She’s young, blonde, and wearing a skimpy white dress, one her black heels laying abandoned beside her foot.
“Son of a bitch!” Hollywood shouts. He stands up and waves his gun in his hand. “I need to start bringing extra ammo.”
“Bellamy, you all right?” I ask, hurrying around the car to check on him. He’s sitting on the ground with his head in hands, his knees bent, a gun laying beside him. He doesn’t answer me. He looks terrified compared to Hollywood. His face pale, hair sticking to his sweating face, hands shaking.
“Bellamy, fucking answer me!” His head slowly turns, and he nods.
“Yeah. I’m fine,” he replies, his voice shaky.
“I think he caught one in the arm. And his elbow might be fucked up. When I realized we were being ambushed, I threw his ass behind me and we landed in the ditch,” Hollywood explains. My eyes drift to Bellamy’s elbow, and sure enough, it’s skinned up and bleeding. Blood drips from his right arm, splattering to the ground. Charging over to him, I grab him by the good arm and jerk him to his feet.
“Ow, asshole!” He tries to shove me away from him, but I turn him and jerk his sleeve up to look for the bullet wound. His upper bicep is bleeding, but he wasn’t shot, just grazed. He needs some stitches.
“You’re fine but hold your hand on it to stop the bleeding,” I tell him, taking a step back. I let my brother out of my sight, and he almost got killed.
I turn my head toward the club where I last left Monet. She set my brother up. She set me up. Why would she do that…unless she’s with the Titans.
My teeth grind, and my hand raises as I point to the gods for strength to control myself.
“Find that bitch,” I seethe, my heart beating so hard, little spots of red flash in my vision.
“Who?” Pegs asks.
“Miss Girl Scout,” Hollywood clips, his wavy hair sticking to his sweaty face. “She showed up with those innocent goo-goo eyes and Bellamy was two sheets to the fucking wind.”