Wirth (Dirty Aces MC #5) - Lane Hart Page 0,12

of its new favorite place in the world. I’m so big that I won’t ever slip out. No, I’ll stay right here until Maeve dismounts from me.

She doesn’t yet, not even when she reaches down to dig into my jean pocket to pull the device free. Offering it to me, she finally, sadly, pulls my cock free so she can stand up.

I start to beg her to come back when I see the lit-up screen of my phone. “Huh,” I mutter, finding I missed five calls from Nash. The only time Nash ever reaches out to me is if Malcolm’s called a meeting. Since I just saw Malcolm banging his woman, I’m thinking a meeting is the last thing on his mind right now.

Nash calls again before I can listen to the multiple voicemails he also left.

“Yeah?” I answer, my voice still sounding lazy and sex drunk.

“Oh, thank fuck!” Nash exclaims in my ear. “Where have you been? I thought you were dead!”

“Dead?” I repeat in confusion.

“Some assholes just shot up the goddamn bar! Fiasco and Malcolm were hit, along with Hunt.”

“What the fuck?” I shout in disbelief. “Someone shot up the bar!” I tell Maeve, who has her back to me as she slips her dress back on. Her shoulders stiffen before she looks over one and asks, “How bad is it?” which is my very next question for Nash.

“How bad is it?”

“Bad, worse for Fiasco, who took two bullets. But if we can find someone who knows how to remove the lead and sew them up, hopefully they’ll live.”

Hopefully? Did he just say, ‘hopefully they’ll live?’

“I’m on my way,” I tell him in a rush.

“Wait! We need a vehicle, something to haul all three in, and fast before the cops show up!” he says. “Neighbors had to have heard the gunfire and called the police by now.”

Why the fuck didn’t I hear it? Oh, right, the sounds Maeve and I made were so loud and all-consuming that I doubt I would’ve heard an atomic bomb go off next door.

“On it,” I promise him before ending the call. I learned how to hotwire a car before I could legally drive one. “We need a truck, big SUV, or a van,” I tell Maeve as I put my pants on in record time. “Know of any in the area?”

“Ah, yeah,” Maeve says. “There are usually a few of those in the apartment complex across the street.”

“Good. Let’s go.”

She nods but doesn’t say anything as I rush out the door and immediately start searching for a big vehicle. We’re definitely in luck when I spot a big, red suburban across the street, exactly where Maeve mentioned one may be.

I jog over with her following behind me. And of course, the doors are locked.

“Shit!” I whisper. “I’ve got some electronics at the shop that could have this beast opened in no time. Unfortunately, we’re going to have to do this the old-fashioned way. Maeve, stand by the back doors and keep watch while I work.”

“What do you have to do exactly?” Maeve whispers, looking around nervously.

“I’m going to have to break the window, pop the hood, rip out the wiring to the horn to silence the alarm, then smash open the steering column and hotwire this thing.”

“How long will that take?” Maeve asks.

I reply by drawing the long knife at my hip, then using it to shatter the driver’s side window. The tinkling of glass as I clear the frame of the remnants of the window is drowned out by the honking of the horn as the alarm blares to life. I quickly reach in to unlock the door, pop the hood open, and then use my knife to sever the wiring to the horn.

“Anybody looking our way?” I ask as I slam the hood, then climb into the driver seat and begin working on the steering column.

“I don’t see anybody…” Maeve begins, her face illuminated by the lights which are still flashing on the Suburban. “Shit!” she suddenly interjects as she runs around the truck, jumping into the passenger side. “There’s an old guy with a key fob up on the top floor looking down here!” she says as she ducks down in the seat. She peeks out of the back window as I work on the wiring in the steering column, then lets out a long sigh. “He went back in, and I saw the lights flash on a car over there,” she tells me. “He must have heard the