“So, we’ve got some good news bad news here,” she continued.
“And your version of good news is so not gonna be the same as mine,” Amy muttered, eyes tight and worried like the rest of the women. But they were not hysterical. Crying. They all held strong. It was obvious why these men were so attached to these women. I was already forming an unhealthy attachment to them. Though that could be because I might possibly be dying with them soon.
Rosie grinned at Amy. “Well, no. There is not a Barney’s opening anywhere in the vicinity. But there is an international warlord on his way here with like a carload of goons ready to kill us.”
Everyone paled slightly. “And I’m guessing that’s your version of good news?” Bex asked dryly.
“No, of course not. The good news is, you have me, and I have these.” She opened the trunk of the SUV that just so happened to be bursting with guns.
“Just once, I want you to open a trunk and have it full of Chanel’s entire Boy Bag collection,” Gwen whined.
Amy laughed.
Bex leaned in and picked one up, not hesitating.
“You’re saying we’re meant to be fighting them off?” Mia said, looking to her daughter.
“No, we’re just last point of contact,” Rosie said. “Ideally, we’re just gonna hold them, look cool, maybe take some snaps for the Gram. But worst case, yes we might have to get trigger happy.”
Killian’s jaw was hard, as was Keltan’s along with the rest of the crew who had rolled their eyes at Rosie’s arrival. I’m pretty sure I saw a guy called Heath exchange money with another man named Duke. Obviously they had a bet going on Rosie evading Swiss.
“Freckles, I want you inside, fucking now,” Killian hissed at his wife.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she said, folding her arms.
“Listen to your flipping husband!” Mia screamed. “This is the one and only time I’ll say this, because this is hopefully the one and only time Rosie presents us with a trunk full of guns.
Rosie shrugged.
Lexie stood her ground.
Mia glared at Killian. “Drag her in there. You have my permission to manhandle her.”
Killian looked like a man torn. As did the rest of the men out here, witnessing this. As they all looked like pretty intense alpha males, I was sure their first instinct was to get the women somewhere they could be safe.
Protected.
But these were not women to play it safe.
Rosie began handing out guns, ignoring the alpha male crisis.
Not a single one of the women, the wives, the mothers, the fucking rock stars seemed to blink at this. None of them run back into the clubhouse, hysterical, asking to be saved.
Everyone just leaned in and picked one up, with the confidence that showed me they each knew how to use them. Amy and Bex didn’t surprise me.
I did question whether Mia should be allowed one, considering the fact she declared it “went with her outfit.”
I took one from Scarlett, who was grinning. “Guess this wasn’t what you expected when you lied your way into the clubhouse looking for a story, huh?”
I laughed, feeling the weight of the gun in my hands. “I don’t expect anything covering a story,” I replied. “But even not expecting anything, I didn’t expect this.”
Rosie looked down at her phone. “Get ready.”
“I don’t like the way she said that,” Gwen said to Amy.
“Me either. The last time she said that, she’d spiked my drink and I woke up in Mexico, with bad hair,” Amy replied.
A large boom echoed through the air, coupled with a rumble that vibrated the ground enough to almost topple most of the women over.
I’d been close when a large bomb had been detonated before. So I stayed upright.
Rosie grinned. “See you’ve got your sea legs!” she yelled over the low beep in the air as our eardrums reacted to the after effects.
Men ran around the parking lot. Keltan was talking into a headset. Killian had one hand on his gun, the other on his wife.
“Did you just set off a bomb in the middle of Amber in broad daylight?” Gwen demanded, rubbing at her ears.
“They did it first!” Rosie yelled back. “And it wasn’t in the middle of Amber. It was exactly one block away from here, I’d already cleared the area.”
“That’s meant to be them, right?” Amy clarified. “Blown to high heaven or lowest hell?” She shook the gun and her hand. “And these can stay as accessories?”
“Yeah, it’s meant to. But when you make plans, God laughs, so you know, get ready for that sadistic sense of humor,” Rosie replied, eyes on the gates, where the prospects and men staying had recovered from the blast.
We all watched the gates, waiting in that horrible loaded silence that comes both after and before death.
Then the gunshots started.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Can loving the wrong man really determine the course of your life?