I’d crashed the bike, broken my wrist, and Earl had broken a couple of my ribs in the beating I got as punishment.
It took me five attempts to get the engine to pour, then the bike vibrated promisingly under me. The fuel level was dangerously low, but I had no intention of making miles with this thing. I only needed to get out of here alive. Even though I hated helmets, I grabbed the dirty thing from the sidecar and put it on. I doubted it would hold back a bullet, but it might protect me from more graze shots. It smelled of old sweat and the dust that had gathered inside made my nose itch like crazy. Maybe I’d crash the thing during a sneeze attack and die that way.
I shook my head with a sardonic chuckle. Fuck, Marcella, what have you done to me?
And then I hit the gas and the bike shot forward. It stuttered and shook as if it was trying to buck me off, but as I rammed through the shed doors, flinging them open and almost losing balance, I couldn’t help but grin. This reminded me of my wild teenage days. Mad indeed.
My smile died the moment bullets flew my way again.
I bowed low over the handlebars and sped up even more, charging right at a Nomad hiding behind a wheelbarrow who was pointing his gun straight at me. Seeing me charge at him, he made the fatal decision to whirl around and run, instead of fire. As expected, he was too slow and thus the easiest target. The sidecar collided with his shins. I almost toppled over at the impact but managed to get control over the bike quickly.
The Nomad rolled around on the ground with broken legs. Several shots hit his head and upper body before I could decide if I would keep him alive for questioning—if I survived this shitshow. The Italian traitors did quick work of him. One enemy less to worry about. I couldn’t do anything about the bikers hiding inside the house, shooting out of the windows. They weren’t my most pressing problem right now.
I did a U-turn and charged in the direction where Peppone and Drooping-Eye were still hiding. I soon began a neck-breaking zig-zag course to avoid the bullets barreling my way. I really didn’t want to die at the hands of these idiots.
Drooping-Eye shot to his feet and dashed out from behind the oak. I chased him and quickly caught up with him, running him over with my sidecar as well. He yelped and fell to the ground but didn’t move. Maybe he hit his head. Not as satisfying as killing him with a bullet, but I’d just have to take it.
I turned again, heading for Peppone, but he was no longer where I’d last seen him. From the corner of my eye, movement caught my attention.
I tried to jerk the handlebars around. Too late. Peppone lunged at me, grabbing hold of my jacket and ripping me off the bike. I slammed to the ground, the air leaving my lungs and my ribs ringing with pain. Probably broken again.
A blade flashed in the corner of my eye. I rolled over, bringing my legs up in defense when Peppone attacked me with a knife. I wasn’t sure what had happened to his gun, but he was good with the knife too. I aimed a desperate kick at his knife hand but he jumped back, eyeing me like a cockroach that he wanted to squash under his boot.
I pushed to my feet and faced him, without a weapon. I’d lost my gun and knife when I’d fallen from the bike.
Peppone lunged at me again, slashing along my forearm, sending burning pain through me. I gritted my teeth against the pain, and clamped my hand around his wrist, then jerked him against me and gave him a head-bang.
Pain slammed through my temples, but Peppone actually began to sway. I used his moment of disorientation and kicked him in the balls too. He sagged down on his knees and I rammed my knee against his chin, knocking him out.
Panting hard and bleeding profusely from my head and arm wound, I cursed the Famiglia, and my stupid heart which had led me into the midst of the enemy. All for a woman.
But what a woman, damn it!
A bullet ripped a hole into the tree beside me, sending bark flying everywhere and cutting my moment of anger short. I ducked and hid behind the trunk. I felt my face for injuries from the bark, but it was covered in blood, dust, and hay, so it was impossible to detect possible cuts.
Peppone was safe from the bullets where he lay on the ground. Not that I would have cared if they’d riddled him like a fucking swiss cheese but I needed answers. Afterward, I could still kill the bastard.