shrieked in a hoarse voice before she started coughing.
“Don’t quote me, but I think someone set your house on fire!” I roared, followed by my own bout of coughing as I checked the rearview and realized a vehicle was following us. As fast as they were going, I didn’t think it was someone out enjoying a fun drive in the blizzard.
When I glanced to my screen, I realized my phone was connected and reached back to feel it still in the back pocket of my jeans.
“Thank fuck,” I croaked. It took two tries for my scratchy voice to register with my truck to call Snow.
“Jesus, do you ever sleep?” he said in a tone gruff from being awoken in the middle of the night.
“Open the fucking gates! We’re coming in hot!” I hoarsely yelled.
“What?” he asked, suddenly sounding wide awake. I repeated myself, and I could hear him running and yelling out orders, but then I quit listening as I tried to stay on the damn road.
Though I hated to admit it, I was terrified—and I didn’t get scared. Besides the multiple combat situations I’d survived, almost dying from a snake bite in Afghanistan taught me that being scared didn’t accomplish a motherfucking thing. Yet the thought of something happening to Loralei because I couldn’t keep her safe scared the hell out of me.
The vehicle behind us was gaining on us as we raced down the back road leading out of town. Every so often, the tires would break loose and I’d think we were heading for the ditch.
Loralei would scream in a scratchy panicked voice, then start coughing. The busted-out window had her hair blowing wildly around her as she braced her hands on the dash.
“Buckle up!” I demanded. From the corner of my eye, I saw her make several attempts to get the seat belt around her and latched.
I opened the center console and pulled out my piece. Ensuring the safety was on, I handed it to her. “Here! Do you know how to shoot?”
When she didn’t answer, I chanced a glance in her direction. She was staring at the gun in her hand like it was a fucking snake, and I cursed under my breath.
It was snowing so hard, I could barely see the asphalt in front of me and hoped I was staying on the road. If anyone came at us, we’d likely be fucked.
Luckily, the other vehicle maintained some distance behind us. As we approached the approximate area for the turnoff for the Demented Sons clubhouse, I slowed. Chanting in my head to please not let me slide past the entrance or wreck, I watched for the lights that adorned either side of the gate.
Spotting them, I slowed further and watched as the other vehicle closed in on us.
As I started to make the turn, it slammed into the passenger-side rear, sending us spinning. We slammed into one of the pillars of the gate before bouncing off and ending up nose-down in the ditch. Our attacker’s vehicle was stopping as I reached over and unlatched her seat belt.
“Get out! Run for the gate!” Like a deer in the headlights, she stared at me, unmoving.
“Fuck!” I choked out as I grabbed the gun from her. I immediately lifted it to zero in on the man ripping her door open.
“It’s me!” Soap shouted, and I dropped the gun from his face. “Come on! I’ve got her!”
He pulled her from the seat, and too late, I realized she had papers clutched to her chest. No time to worry about it. I threw open my door and jumped into the knee-deep snow.
Gunfire erupted around me as I ran in slow motion through the drifts.
Wind sucked from my lungs, I fell face-first into the snow as a burning white-hot pain lanced through my shoulder. I wasn’t there long before someone was dragging me by my other arm.
There was shouting, but it was muffled and carried away in the howling wind and blinding white snow that tried to bury us. The faint sound of chain-link rattling was followed by more gunshots, but I was blacking out from the pain.
“Get him in the treatment room!” I heard shouted before I was gone and everything went silent.
“Scared”—Three Days Grace
My heart about to burst from my chest, I clung to the burly man carrying me and hauling ass for the building barely visible through the snow. In my scratchy voice, I screamed for Decker.
The door flew open, and Soap ran in, followed by gusts