Jovie tilts her head. “In the nick of time?”
“Yeah, I thought Kevlar was never going to move on. Seeing this family happy again is exactly what we all need.”
“Okay, Bub, let’s not overwhelm, Jovie,” I state.
Jovie reaches out for Bub’s hand. “I’m glad I make them all happy because they make me undeniably happy, too.”
Bub pulls Jovie up into a hug.
The squealing of tires makes us all stop.
We look toward the gate.
My stomach falls the instant recognition hits me.
The clicking of bullets moving into their chambers turns everything into slow motion.
“Everyone drop!” Zero yells.
I grab Jovie, yanking her, pulling her underneath me. My hands move over my head as I surround her. Within a second, the rampaging bullets start hurtling through the club gate. The reinforced steel would normally hold, but with the sheer amount blasting through and slamming into our bikes and bursting chips of brick from the side of the clubhouse, I can tell the firepower is immense. Fox’s grill even rattles with the holes slamming into the hood while the rest of us remain face-first on the concrete waiting for the barrage of bullets to stop their explosive attack.
Whoever this is will need to reload at some point.
That’s when we make our move.
Jovie’s panting frantically beneath me. I move my eyes over to Ethan and Lou, who are practically in the same pose as us, and Fox has Bub hidden underneath a bench seat. We have no fucking clue what reinforcements these men are coming in with, but we sure as hell know who’s leading the charge.
Baron and Damir.
The bullets slowly come to a halt, giving us all time to catch our breath.
I slide my hand over Jovie’s face. “You okay?” She nods. “I need you to get inside to the kids. Don’t stop, no matter what happens. Okay?”
She sniffles, wiping the tears away from her face. “Okay.”
“Go. Go now, Jovie.” I let her up, then she takes off staying low.
Lou follows her as they run inside the clubhouse, making it to the stairs.
I turn back. Zero signals for us to stand and fight whatever’s coming our way. We all rush over to the oil barrels lining the side of the clubhouse and yank off the lids. Once we knew an attack was imminent, we planted artillery all over the place in case of an ambush.
Pulling out the loaded Winchester M97, I click off the safety, then pump the bullet into the chamber as a truck revs its engine behind the gate. I tense, my eyes shifting to Neon.
His eyes drop to his tablet. “They’re gonna fucking ram it! We’re about to have company.”
Suddenly, a fucking massive delivery van slams through the clubhouse gates. They disintegrate with the force of the hit, flying off their reinforced hinges. The front of the van has a giant metal battering ram in the shape of a triangle.
They mean business.
All of us unload a clip each into the front cab of the van, but it doesn’t stop, driving straight into the compound, continuing to our bikes, and taking them out one by one. The screeching and scraping of the metal tears at my very soul as the general groans of anger from my brothers rip through the air.
Whoever’s driving that van is a dead man.
Come after us, but don’t aim for our bikes without expecting your limbs to be torn from your body.
The van eventually comes to a halt. We all aim our guns at the driver’s side waiting for the fucker to get out, but the back of the delivery van rear door slides up. My heart rapid fires, ready to attack, but there’s nothing, just a ceramic skull ashtray sitting on the tray bed with a lit cigarette smoldering on its head.
“It’s a distraction, Zero,” I call out.
We all turn toward the now wide-open gate rushing toward it like raging bulls.
Suddenly, a shock wave so fucking intense slams into us from the van. We all crash into the side of the clubhouse, hitting the brick with such force my breath is ripped from me. Flames engulf the van with the explosion as I collapse to the ground, my ears ringing so dramatically I can’t hear anything. My stomach tightens with the brunt of the hit to my system, but I have to shake this off because if I’ve learned anything, now is when these assholes are going to strike—when we’re all down and out.
Somehow my head lifts, and Damir and the Baron waltz in like they own the fucking place. To their left are another three men. A new group must have teamed up with them, but there’s a familiarity I can’t place. The eldest has half a face full of scarring like burns. Anger flares inside of me as Zero and Wraith take off first, heading straight for the Baron and Damir, but the Baron’s mercenaries and members of the Triglav Clan run through the gates. I pick myself up, Ethan by my side as he dusts himself off, pulling out his gun.
If he involves himself in this, it could end his career.
“You don’t need to fight with us.”
“My family’s here. I’m not standing back and letting these fuckers hurt what’s mine!” Ethan clicks off his safety, taking off toward where the fighting has already begun.
I roll my shoulders, running toward the fight. Bullets scorch the air as my brothers fight, hand to hand. I run, trying to get to the man with the burned face, but a mercenary aims his gun at me. I slam my palm into his wrist. The pistol fires beside my ear, making my eyes water as the gun knocks from his fingers. I reach around, grabbing mine, and pointing it directly into his chest, pulling back on the trigger once. The gun recoils as he lets out a strange gurgle sound. The smell of the smoke from the bullet escaping the chamber lingers in the air. He stumbles backward, falling to the ground clinging to his stomach—blood seeping down his torso.
The burned man disappears from my sight, so I take off toward a Triglav, who’s aiming a machine gun at the fucking clubhouse. He’s slamming bullets into the side of it, right where the upstairs bedrooms are located, right where my kids and Jovie could be. Anger rages through me while I race for him with everything I have. The rat-a-tat of the machine gun making my insides jerk in fear. I slide out underneath the clan member, knocking his feet out from under him.
We both fall to the ground, the bullets from the machine gun firing up into the Houston night air as he clatters onto the concrete. I bring my elbow up, slamming it down into the middle of his chest. He gasps for air, causing him to drop the gun, rolling over on his ass, trying to grip hold of me. His legs kick up, pushing me off him, and I slide back across the concrete, a stray bullet barely missing my bicep as I go.
But I’m not done with this asshole yet.
I push up the same time he does, but he pulls out a small triangular knife. He lunges forward at me swiping the blade across my body, but I jump back out of the way. Keeping my guard up, I’m ready for this fight. He lunges again, but I sidestep, slamming my fist into his temple—pain sears through my knuckles. A slow smile creeps up my face. He stumbles slightly, but then he turns with force, swiping at me again. I jerk back out of the way, but his blade connects, only just, slicing through my shirt and the edge of my cut. He chuckles menacingly, bringing his hands up as if he’s preparing to box with me.
“You’re going to pay for that, you fucking asshole,” I sneer.
“Oh, yeah? Vat you gonna do, you scum dog?” the Slav jests.
“Nothing… but I am!” Ethan grunts from behind the Slav, then pulls his trigger.