Sour Cherry(11)

“She’s in the vents.” Amelia’s voice sent a chill down my spine. “Get her out. I’ll be in the car.”

If I didn’t do what Cooper instructed, I’d mostly likely end up as hamburger. I pushed the shotgun in front of me and shuffled after it. A few feet away, the vent turned, presumably toward the front of the house. I followed it, my knees burning from the friction against the metal.

The first shot ripped through the vent directly in front of my face.

A scream escaped my throat as I covered my ears.

“Come on, Cherry. At least make it a challenge.” Talon’s voice had gone ice-cold. His protectiveness tended to disappear once he’d been ordered to kill someone.

When I was able to open my eyes, tears slid silently into my mouth. The salty addition to the sour taste coating my tongue nearly made me gag. Then again, it could have just been the flavor of fear. I remained motionless, too shocked to continue. I couldn’t control my breathing and didn’t know if another shot waited for me to make my move. Cooper had instructed me to get to the front of the house, but in all honestly, I didn’t see myself making it out of the bathroom.

“Cheeeerrrry,” Talon sang. “I can hear you breathing.”

A second shot made the vent scream and searing pain burned down my arm.

The bullet hurt worse than a skateboard to the face.

I tried not to scream, but failed. The shriek resonated around the vent, effectively making my ears ring. I’d never been shot before. In my dreams I imagined it playing out differently, but in reality, I turned to mush. Sobs caused my shoulders to shake as I tried to stop the bleeding in my arm with my hand.

At age twenty-six, I’d die in a vent by the hands of the man sworn to protect me as a member. At least one of my last days included the best sex of my life. The thought made me giggle or it could have been the hysterics starting. Either way, I’d die happy.

Scuffling footsteps below cleared the haze enveloping my mind. Black spots danced in my eyes as I struggled to flip over onto my back. I wasn’t going anywhere, but if they wanted to present my body as a trophy to the club, they’d have to pull me out of the vent. A thump inside the bathroom made me flinch. Only my shallow breathing followed.

The black spots grew larger. While I couldn’t exactly determine every detail of my final resting place, I didn’t remember it being so dark. The scuffling had ended. Perhaps the shots had made me deaf.

A thump claimed my attention away from the pain in my arm as if a body had dropped to the floor. But not for long. Blood puddled beneath me and suddenly, I had the strength I needed to get the hell away from it. I’d never been a fan, and the coppery scent invading my sinuses made me gag. I worked my way back toward the opening in the bathroom ceiling.

Silence. I couldn’t see anything in my limited vision either.

Either Talon would be waiting for me when I dropped to the floor or I’d have luck on my side for once. I could only hope he’d moved onto a better position in the house. That way I’d at least have a chance.

I lowered my legs through first, using my remaining strength in my arms to keep me from falling. I gritted my teeth to hold back the scream aching for release. I pushed my torso over the edge of the vent and my arms gave out. The bullet wound flashed hot, then cold, and hot again as I landed on the linoleum with a loud thud. If Talon had any doubts about my location, I’d just handed him the gold.

I froze, my gaze locked on the man in front of me.

Talon had waited for me, but not of his own choosing.

His lifeless body took up most of the bathroom’s small space, his gun in his hand, eyes wide. The white Outriggers crest had been smeared with blood. I hadn’t heard a gunshot, which left only a knife capable of that kind of damage.

“What the—?”

“Come on!” Cooper rounded the corner, his hand outstretched toward me.

“You did this?” A small part of me bathed in sorrow as I bent down and closed Talon’s eyes. Despite the fact he’d tried to kill me, he’d always been kind.

Cooper didn’t answer as he took my hand and ripped me from the floor. “They’re coming.”

“Who?” I fought to keep pace with him as we bolted down the hallway and through the front door. I’d left the shotgun behind, but couldn’t have run with it anyway. The gleam of metal caught my eye as we ran for Cooper’s bike. His knife, coated with bits of red, remained in his free hand.

He threw a muscled leg over his bike, turned the key and backed out of his parking space. Cooper motioned me to get on.

“What the hell did you do? Who’s coming?”

Quickly removing his leather cut and shoving it in his bike’s side pocket, he glanced over his shoulder.