I was staring up at him, my throat feeling clogged, adrenalin surging through my system, every centimeter of skin on my body tingling, a feeling that was becoming all too familiar.
“Tack,” I whispered.
He looked down at me. “Stay here, hang tight. I’ll be back.”
He’d be back?
What did he mean, he’d be back?
Then he was gone.
Oh God. Shit. What did I do? Someone shot up my living room!
My purse was in the living room. My phone was in my purse. Shit.
Why hadn’t I put a phone in the kitchen? Why? Why, why, why? First thing whatever morning it would be when it was safe again to be in my f**king house I was putting a phone in every room.
The kitchen door opened and Tack was there, his arm extended to me. “Gwen.”
I was still pressed against the back wall and my panicked eyes went to him.
“What?” I snapped.
“Come here,” he said.
Was he crazy? Here was the living room! And ten seconds ago that room exploded!
“What?” I snapped again.
“Now!” he clipped back and I moved. Rushing to him, he grabbed my hand, dragged me through the nightmare that was my living room, out the front door and straight to his bike. He threw a leg over then I climbed up behind him, wrapping my arms around him and holding on tight. The engine roared, he backed it out, turning into the street and then we shot away.
* * * * *
Tack drove behind Ride where the garages were. I’d never been there but saw that also back there was a rectangular, one-story building. He rode right up to the door and stopped. I hopped off, he followed, grabbed my hand and a biker had the door held open for us as Tack took us into the building. It looked like a bar and bikers were all hanging around though they were hanging around alert and their eyes all came to Tack and me.
“Callouts, brothers,” Tack growled but that was all he said, he kept dragging me through the bar and around it to a back hall as men moved toward the front door.
Tack pulled me down the hall. It was filled with doors and he took me to the last one. He pushed it open and pulled me in. It was a bedroom and it needed to be cleaned, badly.
A biker followed us in and Tack looked at him and then he looked at me.
“You done with Hawk?” he asked what I thought was insanely.
“What?” I asked back.
“Babe, gotta know, you done with Hawk?”
“Um… yes,” I answered.
He stared at me and then asked, “You sure about that?”
“Yes! What are you –?”
I didn’t finish my question. The minute he got my answer he turned to the biker.
“Hawk shows, any of his boys, you aim to maim and you get her outta here. Yeah?”
Oh my God!