another fight. I jab a finger. “I’m coming back for you.”
When I turn back around, fear grips my stomach. Grudge and Evie have disappeared. “Dammit!”
They were heading for the house so I run towards it, ducking and dodging flying fists and limbs. Adrenaline pumps through my veins, giving me speed as I vault the three stairs and wrench open the door. It’s abnormally quiet inside as I take in the front room. There’s blood everywhere. Streaks of the dark metallic substance weave along the timber floor. It decorates the living room wall in a thick spray, indicating gun shots hitting their mark. My senses go on high alert.
Reaching behind me, I lift my t-shirt and pull the glock free from the back of my jeans. I engage the slid and move slow and quiet, both hands on the weapon. My back brushes along the wall as I shift down the hallway. Tilting my head, I peek into a bathroom, clearing it, before moving on.
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, checking the next one. A big Viper is pushed up against the wall, his head at an unnatural angle. There’s a bullet wound in his leg and his forehead, his eyes sightless. It doesn’t get any more dead than that, so I don’t bother with more than a glance before moving on to the next room, only to find another body.
“Fuck.” I recognise Rossi from the art gallery security tape. He’s flat on his back, his body beaten and bloody. I race over, dropping to a crouch so I can I check his pulse. It’s thready. He needs an ambulance.
“Jared!”
It’s Mitch. I hear his booted feet moving quickly through the house. I step out, gun lax at my side. “She’s gone.”
“Gone where?”
My jaw clenches. “That’s the million-dollar question isn’t it?”
He jerks his head at the back door. “Go check the exit, I’ll—”
“You’ll call an ambulance.” I nod toward the open doorway where I found the cop. “Rossi’s down. It doesn’t look good.”
“Christ.” He tugs his phone free from his back pocket, stepping inside the room while I head for the back door. Yanking it open, I scan the yard. It’s fully fenced off. Nothing but a line of Harley’s along the boundary. Where did they go? “Evie!” I shout. “Evie!”
A gust of wind bangs the door closed behind me as I leap down the stairs. I check the other side of the house. It’s empty. There’s nothing but a timber gate. I return to the back door at a run. It’s wide open when I know it blew shut just moments ago. I move quickly up inside the house, my steps soundless and gun raised in front of me.
It’s Rider, the biker that just won’t stay down. His back is to me, and he’s walking along the hallway, windows to his left, rooms to his right, as he sneaks up on Mitch. He grips a small hatchet in his fist, his arm raised high, ready to bring it down on my brother.
Mitch is oblivious, his head bent as he reads something on his phone.
Jesus.
I move quickly, pressing the muzzle of my gun to the back of his head. “Drop the weapon.”
Mitch spins around as Rider lets the hatchet drop to the floor. But Rider spins too, and he’s fast for a big bastard. Fast enough to strike out and knock the gun from my hand. It spins across the floor. He bends for his hatchet, but I’m quick too and lunge forward in a tackle before he gets it in hand. We hit the window. Glass shatters, splintering the air as we fly right through it. Shards cut my face and arms as we hit the ground outside, Rider taking the brunt of the fall.
“Sonofabitch!” I hear Mitch shout through the broken window. He roars for Kelly while I catch my breath. Rider is worse off. He’s gasping. I take advantage, getting both hands around his throat, ignoring the Vipers and Sentinels going at it around us. Lifting his head by the neck, I bash it down hard against the earth. “Where did they go?”
A cut on his brow trickles blood into his eye, yet he simply grins at me. “You’ll never find them.”
“Tell me!” I roar, bashing his head into the ground a second time, my fingers squeezing at the same time, cutting off more of his air.
“She’s—” He gurgles.
I loosen my grip. “She’s what?”
“She’s a hot piece,” he gasps, and laughs. “I got a good feel.”
Fury takes over. I seize his