"She's off-limits," I said, tone brooking no argument, even if most of the guys had agreed with Dezi a while back when he suggested the idea of a honeytrap.
"Alright. Shame, but alright," he said, shrugging.
"How are your men doing on their trip? They almost here?"
To that, Slash let out a snorting laugh. "Fucking Sway insisted on stopping for a night in each state along the way. He's on some mission to bag a woman in each state. But Crow is keeping him mostly on track. They should roll in sometime tomorrow night."
"Sounds like you have a Dezi of your own," I said, waving over toward where the man in question had his arms around two women while chatting up a third. The fucker would likely be able to get in all of their pants, too, despite them being friends.
"We all love pussy, but Sway takes it to a whole different level. Followed his dick into the arms of a cartel member's wife once. Bloody mess, that was," he said, absentmindedly rubbing his upper arm where I'd caught sight of an old, puckered bullet wound scar. Likely one he'd gotten from Sway's mix-up.
Slash tended to do that. Rub the spot where he had a scar when he talked about an old war story. So far, though, he'd never touched the scars on his face. No one had been brave enough to ask outright. I doubt we ever would.
"Luckily, our local cartel kingpin is single," I said, giving Slash a smirk. "But keep him away from Danny, or we're going to have issues," I warned.
"Got it," Slash agreed, casting one last glance at Danny before walking away.
Eventually, as predicted, Dezi left with the three women. Cary left with his chick with the daddy issues. Slash took off ahead of Seth and Finn who were leading girls back to the club.
Leaving me to settle everyone's tabs, as usual, before heading out myself.
I'd had my heart set on a ride. Just a couple minutes of alone time before going back to the clubhouse that was likely full of sex sounds, reminding me how long it had been since I'd had time to bring a woman back for some fun.
And I'd only managed to get half a street away before the bike crapped out on me. Something electrical, most likely. I'd have to get a look at it once I got it back home.
I was just considering if I should roll it home, or just leave it for Repo to pick up in the morning and take back to his garage when Danny happened upon me again.
"Christ, are you always such a b—" I started, too frustrated to come up with anything better to say. Only I didn't even get to say it.
Because bullets exploded in the wall behind her.
"Fuck," Danny hissed, dropping to a crouch as I rushed forward, reaching for my gun even as she produced her own.
"Move!" I snapped, shoving at her as the bullets kept coming.
"Where the fuck are they coming from?" she asked as I all but shoved her into the partially opened gate behind the building.
"Don't fucking know," I grumbled, falling into step with her as we ran down the alley behind the buildings.
"They stopped," Danny said, pulling to a stop, taking a deep breath, looking around.
"They're probably re-load... fuck," I hissed as they started up again, sounding closer. Way, way too close.
Adrenaline sparked off each nerve ending as I looked forward, realizing we were trapped in. The only exit was the direction we'd come in.
"Fuck," I snapped again, mind spinning.
"Let's—" Danny started, trailing off on a gasp as a bullet landed in the brick beside her, missing her by an inch.
Instinct kicking in, I reached down, grabbing her free hand, and pulling her along with me. Finding a small gap between buildings that looked like it led out to the street again, just beyond a gate, I yanked hard on her arm, pushing her forward in front of me, then rushing in behind her.
"Damnit," Danny yelped, yanking on the thick chains holding the gate closed. "We have to climb it," she said, tucking away her gun, and reaching upward to start.
"The fuck are you doing?" I snapped when the bullets started to make their way down the smaller alley. Reaching up, I grabbed the waistband of her pants at the center of her back, yanking her back down, tossing her toward the ground, and covering her body with my own.
Instinct.
It was just instinct.
Protect the women.
It was a phrase woven into the fabric of my soul. It was something I'd heard my father and uncles say too many times to count.
Above all else, we always protected the women.
The difference was, those were our women.
This was a woman who would likely step over my bullet-riddled body without so much as offering to call an ambulance.
Still, the instinct was there.
Of course, it was like trying to help a raccoon out of a trap. They had nothing but claws and teeth and a deep-seated mistrust of your kind.
Danny pushed and shoved and scratched.
"I don't need you to fucking protect me," Danny hissed, raking her nails across my neck as I held her down.
"Shut the fuck up," I whisper-yelled at her, reaching down to press a hand over her mouth, not wanting whoever was shooting to know we were still alive. But if they were going to come to check, I wanted to be able to hear them approach as well.
It wasn't until the woman elbowed me in the goddamn ribs that I released her. Mostly out of shock.
"There's a door, you fucking idiot," she snapped, glowering up at me as she pointed across the narrow alley toward where there looked to be a basement walkout to whatever the fuck building it was above.
The chances of it being open were slight.
But better than staying sitting ducks in the off chance it might have been left unlocked.
"It's the old record store," Danny reminded me.
Which meant it had been abandoned since before I was born.
I highly doubted whoever owned it was diligent about keeping shit locked. Kids probably used the basement to get drunk and high all the time.
"I'll go. You... charge a-fucking-head," I sighed as she rushed out from her crouched position, and made her way toward the door, reached down, and yanked one of the doors open.
Not entirely trusting her not to leave me stranded in the alley while she was safely tucked into a basement, I darted across the alley as well, charging down the steps after her, then reaching up to yank the doors closed, blanketing us in complete darkness as I fumbled for some sort of lock.
"It's right here," Danny said, pushing my hand out of the way as she moved in behind me, sliding something loud and metallic into place.
"It won't hold if someone is determined to get in here."
"No shit," Danny agreed, reaching for her phone to turn on the flashlight. But one look around said there was nothing to use to barricade the doors. "Well, at least we will be the ones with the shooting advantage if someone tries to follow us in," she said, tone casual. "Plus, cinder block walls are pretty decent protection, depending on the type of bullets they're using."
She sounded way too calm about the whole thing.
How many shootouts had she been a part of in her life?
Had she been shot?
Had she shot anyone?
It wasn't my business to wonder.
But I was wondering.
"What are you doing?" she asked as I reached for my own phone.
"Texting my men to see who is sober enough to come out and investigate," I explained, shooting a text to my father, making sure it was clear that—for the moment—I was unharmed, knowing my mother would worry. "Not texting yours?"