Havok: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance - Riley Rollins Page 0,96
to be able to go home again. Honestly, this life of yours, with the motorcycles and the club, it's a total piece of shit. You can't just fucking kill people left and right and solve all your problems with violence. You're a bunch of fucking animals."
Axl's eyes narrowed, his jaw muscles tensing and a look of anger flashed across his face. "You don't choose this life," he said, "It chooses you. It chose me a long time ago. And it chose you when you got involved in our business. Without me, you'd be fucking dead already. Things have changed for you darlin'. You're in this deep and the sooner you come to terms with that, the better."
I was angry. Angry at how he talked to me. Angry that I'd given myself up to him last night. Axl Archer and I were about as different as two people could be. Stupid me for thinking that something good might come out of this whole mess. Stupid me for thinking just a few hours ago that I might be falling for him. He was a real asshole.
Then, a loud bang split my ears, and Axl stumbled. A stream of bright red blood flowed down his arm.
19
Axl
I didn't want to be cruel, but I couldn't help it. What did a chick like Holly know about fucking struggle? Was I supposed to get on my knees and grovel about spoiling her graduation plans by saving her ass from the Reapers? And now it was my fault she couldn't impress her parents with a paper diploma?
All while I risked life and limb—not to mention my future with the Sons—just to keep her safe.
This was just one of the many reasons the club lifestyle made sense to me. No bullshit diplomas, no bullshit authorities hanging over your head. Just money and mayhem.
But at the same time, no matter how much she pissed me off, no matter how much she didn't understand the new world she was in, I wouldn't be able to fucking live with myself if something happened to her.
I was opening my mouth to snap at her when I heard the gunshot. A civilian might've thought it was a car backfiring, but I'd been around enough fucking gunfights my first year in the club alone to know the difference. I knew the sound of gunfire like I knew my way around pussy.
I didn't even realize I'd been hit until I saw her eyes lock onto my shoulder in horror. She stood there, frozen, not having developed the street instincts that I had—the ones that told me to get the fuck down.
And the crazy thing is, as I pushed her to the ground behind a nearby SUV and saw the blood pouring out of my arm, my only thought was to thank God that it'd been me and not her.
The Reapers had somehow fucking found us.
"Oh my god," said Holly, clasping her hand over her mouth. "What can I do?"
I gritted my teeth in pain, crouching down behind the vehicle, trying to simultaneously cover Holly with my body and pull my Glock out of my belt holster with my uninjured arm. "Pressure," I said. My shoulder felt like it'd been hit with the claw end of a flaming hammer.
Holly pressed her palm against my shoulder, and pain seared through my chest and arm. Phantom pains fired out of the wound, triggering nerves in my neck. I clenched my teeth and fought through the pain, peeking out from behind the SUV, my eyes scanning for the shooter. Tourists were running and screaming, piling into their minivans and sedans in the parking lot. Not only did I have to protect Holly, I had to work against the clock and get us out of here alive before the place filled up with the ice.
As I peeked around the corner, another shot rang out, and I felt a shockwave traveling through the air as a bullet whizzed past my head. Fuck. That was rifle fire.
"What the hell do we do?" Holly asked in a panicked, urgent voice. "You're bleeding a lot."
"I'm going back into the plaza," I said, "Can't see a goddamn thing from here. Stay put."
I gripped my Glock hard, and dashed out from behind the safety of the SUV, sprinting back toward the bench we'd been sitting at earlier. There were more gunshots, but they echoed across the surrounding valley and it was impossible to tell where they came from.