Devil's Ride (Royal Bastards MC Tonopah, NV #3) - Nikki Landis Page 0,8
like a storm was rolling in. Didn’t make a lot of sense. The girl had been surrounded in sunlight. The beams were golden and super bright.
Sighing, I clutched that silly brown stuffed bear to my chest and tried to breath through the pain that was slowly spreading throughout my entire body. Every cell felt damaged. Every single muscle strained to the point of agony. My chest rose and fell slowly as I breathed in and out and waited for the motorcycles to approach.
There was a gun inside my cut. Somehow, it must have been overlooked. How it remained close after all that happened, I didn’t have a clue. Even after I was hit by that damn car. That was some supernatural shit right there.
This was really turning out to be the worst couple of days of my entire life.
Save one. But I wasn’t letting my father’s death creep in right now.
Reaching for my weapon, I held it against my chest. I wasn’t going out like a little bitch on the side of the highway. If the Scorpions were back, I was taking a few of those motherfuckers with me on my way out.
Memories of my interaction with Lucifer began to emerge and I couldn’t help my grin. I’d survived. Up to now, at least. He kept to his end of the bargain. I wasn’t dead.
The thought of cashing in on my need for retribution made me smile. Acid was the first on my hit list. Razr was second. Those assholes were living on borrowed time.
“You look like fuckin’ death,” a familiar voice bellowed as I looked up and grunted, looking directly into Exorcist’s amused expression. “Suppose we should take your ugly ass to a hospital or some shit.”
“Fuck!”
The curse came from Mammoth. His booming voice cried out with anger and pain.
He found Keys.
“Keys and Lockjaw,” I managed to reply as my body relaxed. I wasn’t in any danger. My brothers were here. I could let the control slip for a few minutes.
“Yeah, I know, my brother. We’re gonna sort this shit out. Promise.”
I wanted to nod but I wasn’t going to remain conscious much longer.
“Where’s Papa?”
He shook his head. “Accident. Colter is hurt.”
Papa’s son? We were only a few years apart. Colter was a close friend.
“Shit,” I cursed.
“Not sure if he’s alright. Papa ain’t answering his phone at home and the hospital just gives me the run around when I call.”
That wasn’t good.
“Colter was with Murder’s daughter. I’m thinkin’ some bad shit went down before their accident.”
I tried to sit up and nearly passed out. This was the worst time to be injured.
“Easy. You’re gonna have to take it slow.” He shook his head. “Don’t want to lose another brother. It’s been fucked-up the last few days. Not gonna lie.”
He had no idea. Wait until I landed my own bombshell in church.
“Where did the fuckin’ bear come from? You got a guardian angel or some shit?”
My chest ached when I sort of laughed and choked at the same time.
“Don’t answer that. Rest. We’ve got you.”
For the second time in twenty-four hours I drifted off and hoped I would stay alive long enough to fulfill every promise I made in the last few days.
The Grim Reaper had been unleashed and I was out for blood.
Present time ––
“You finished yet?”
I ignored Moby and kept cleaning the kitchen, wiping down the food stains and grime from the appliances and countertops. Even the damn cabinets looked like someone splattered them with food every single chance they got. It was disgusting but I wasn’t letting my dad live in squalor no matter how fucked-up our relationship had been in the past or continued to be. My father was a drunk and a swindler. A pathetic excuse for a man and I couldn’t blame my mother for leaving his ass over a decade ago. Some people were just beyond help. Not because they weren’t worthy of it but because they chose not to accept it.
“I’m talking to you, Tricia.” My name was enunciated with spite.
Moby wasn’t going to make me lose my temper. Not this time. I’d wasted far too much energy on his insults and abusive behavior in the past. It was better to pacify him and keep busy until the moment I could escape his presence.
“I’m busy, Moby. Don’t you want a clean house?” The sweet tone of my voice was an act. Catching flies with honey and all that. If I wanted to leave without a confrontation, this was the only way.
“Fuck the