Chapter 16
Megan - Day 28
We went crashingto the floor. My yank was harder than I’d thought it would be since I had put all my weight into it.
Aaron landed half on top me as my knee went crashing into Dutch’s chest. Aaron didn’t need instructions for my stupid plan; he started shooting from our floor-level position, which sent Clint and Chuck back but not away.
Aaron’s actions didn’t stop Chuck and Clint from shooting in our direction. The center island, containing the stove and an attached, thick, wooden table were the only things keeping bullets from striking us. I scrambled over Dutch’s body and poured all my might into turning him over. I grunted as I lifted and shoved at his body. When my eager fingers raked the butt of Dutch’s gun, I yanked hard to jerk the weapon from under his body.
I continued to pull in a panicky hurry as a bullet hit loud, splintering the wood next to me. When I got a good grip on the pistol that was down the back of Dutch’s pants, relief swept through my body.
I called out to the men shooting. My breath heaved so hard that I didn’t know if they understood my words. “I give up! I’m getting up. Please. I’m coming out!”
Unsure if my crazy ploy to come out would work, I noticed the bullets had stopped flying, including Aaron’s, when he spotted what was in my hand.
Aaron lifted Dutch, who I’d assumed was only knocked out because his slumped body jerked and his chest moved up and down. Aaron was using Dutch for cover as we ducked low, behind his crumpled, smelly body.
“Stay behind me, Megan,” Aaron directed, as he stood higher, with Dutch now groaning in front of us. He leaned Dutch more so that he was covering me from Chuck because it had already been proven that Chuck wasn’t willing to shoot Aaron, not if Aaron had a clear shot of his son.
Chuck and Clint’s weapons were waiting for us when we were standing fully upright. Chuck’s gun was aimed mostly at Dutch instead of me, and Clint and Aaron were back in their standoff.
The moment Dutch started to stir and realized he’d become a human bulletproof vest, he started to scream like a madman. His voice was laced with the impact of his pains and the horror of the situation he currently found himself in.
Aaron didn’t give a signal and he didn’t wait around to see what Chuck and Clint would do. The moment Dutch’s screams distracted both bearded pieces of shit, Aaron started shooting. His first shot landed in the center of Clint’s forehead, spraying blood and brain matter on the refrigerator and wall behind him.
Soon afterward, I stood deathly still with the odor of gun oil inching up my nose. The same as how it had done in Shark’s bar the second day I was with The August Knights Motorcycle Club.
The gun in my hand remained aimed where Chuck had been standing a moment ago. I’d shot him at least three times and kept squeezing the trigger until the gun stopped firing.
My next breath got caught up in my throat when I realized what I’d done. My gaze moved away from where Chuck was standing, in time for me to see Aaron raising his gun and putting a bullet in the back of Dutch’s head. The sound of the close boom left both my ears ringing, but I preferred the ringing to Dutch’s incessant screams. The sudden silence allowed my brain to reflect on the deadly moment I’d just survived.
I stood stunned, not believing I was in one piece. After Dutch’s lifeless body hit the floor, Aaron spun quickly to check me out. His frantic hands brushed over my body, searching for bullet holes.
“Are you shot?” he asked, his voice frantic.
It hadn’t occurred to me until Aaron’s question that Chuck and Clint had had enough time to shoot Aaron and me.
Aaron took the gun from my hand and placed it on the counter behind us. I glanced down at my body, expecting to see a hole though some part of it. I swept my hands over my chest with quick movements. Aside from Dutch’s splattered blood, there was no sign that I had been shot or was losing any of my blood.
My mind snapped back when I noticed that Aaron was injured.
“Shit! They got you.”
Aaron caught my hands and held them firmly inside his. Mine were shaking like crazy, but his were perfectly calm.
“Trust me, this is nothing but a flesh wound. I’ll get you to patch me up later.”
The wound looked like he’d been nicked across the neck with a knife. There wasn’t much blood, so I calmed down enough to think. I closed my eyes and took a much-needed deep breath before Aaron pulled me against his solid chest. I settled into his embrace, throwing my arms around his torso as I buried my face in his strong chest.
“I’m sorry you had to witness and participate in this shit,” he said, not sounding the least bit remorseful. “This is what I was trying to make you understand about the kind of people you were getting yourself involved with.”
I’d recovered enough to think more clearly. After glancing up at Aaron while wrapped in his arms, I spoke the last words he expected to hear from me.
“I know you can’t call the cops, so I’ll help you clean this up.” I paused for a moment before I asked, “Can you give me the full story of why these guys wanted to kill you and how you came to kill Chuck and now both of his sons?”
Most people never considered that some writers took their work as seriously as some reporters. Some of us were willing to go into the belly of the beast if it meant finding a decent enough story to write or report about or to gain first-hand knowledge, insight, and ideas.
However, the jury was still out on me. I didn’t know if I was just plain crazy or if Aaron had been right all along. Maybe I got off on being scared. Nevertheless, there was no way I was not going to use some of the gruesome action I’d witnessed in my time with The August Knights Motorcycle Club in some of my upcoming books.