Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 76082 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76082 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Quickshot doesn't say anything, keeping to the back, but his pistol is up and his shooting hand is rock steady. His expression is dark, like an executioner.
There’s a few too many barrels pointing around in the room for my liking, leaving my guys and the Unwanted in an uncomfortable standoff. The first one to pull the trigger now is guaranteed to get nailed by someone else.
But it's Giancarlo Fabbri who's the first to talk. I'm not sure when he pulled his gun, but he's pointing it right at me. "Bikers, always so fucking messy. You could actually get somewhere if you kept your dicks in your pants and paid attention. I’m so fucking sick of this. Cazzo."
"Natalie!" screams Sandra, but just like me, she sits very, very still. The last thing we want is to make his finger twitch.
Animal bristles, leveling one of his pistols at the Mafia guy. "Aim away from the girl. Trust me, I have every fucking reason to want to take you down right where you fucking stand. If you want to live, you'd better do exactly what I fucking say."
Giancarlo smiles that terrible cruel smile from when he bid on me back when this all started. "So personal. Proving my point. My men are out there right now, massacring your boys. The Fabbris are done hiding. Once your club is gone, South Side is ours. Do you really think you can get out of here alive? Try anything, and your girl's going to be trying to suck air from where her head used to be." He shrugs. "Your choice."
"I'm not going to fucking say it again," snarls Animal. "Aim the gun away from her."
Sandra reaches out to grab my hand, and I take it, squeezing hard. All I see is Giancarlo's barrel pointing at me. It's making my life seem so incredibly short and fragile.
"I don't think I will. Call it short term insurance while I wait for my long term to get the fuck up here and deal with you." His voice sounds almost casual, like this is all just an annoyance for him. And here I'd thought Cain or Crusher would be the real problem.
"Fuck." Animal is visibly struggling to keep from leaping those last ten feet or so to rip Giancarlo's head clean off.
The regular pop of gunfire still echoes from outside, and I can only pray that the Eagles have the upper hand, but what if they don’t? What if it's going to be a bunch of Mafiosos coming up here instead?
Badass's hands are curled into tight fists. "You're losing out there. If anyone should be begging for their damn life, it should be you. Soon, all your buddies will be on the ground, waiting for their body bags, and then what the fuck will you do? Give us the girls, and maybe we'll let you live."
"Like fuck we will," growls Animal.
"I could shoot you where you stand," says Quickshot, his steady voice completely devoid of emotion.
"You could, and maybe… just maybe, my muscles contracting won't fire my gun, and even if they do, maybe the bullet won't hit your girl. But are you willing to take that chance?" Giancarlo takes a slow step closer to me, as if to reduce the chance of him missing if Quickshot puts a bullet in him.
There's got to be something I can do, or say. Anything. I just don't know what. Now that he's closer, the pistol is almost close enough to grab, but then what? He's bigger and stronger than me. And it's not like I know what I'm doing trying to wrench a gun away from a killer. What if it goes off?
"So what?" growls Crusher. "We just fucking wait?"
"We do seem to be at an impasse. At least until my team has cleaned up."
God, is he right? Are all the Eagles getting massacred out there? Eagle-eye, Preacher, Devil, King, Chef, and all the others? The thought makes me ill. I've been getting attached to the club, not just my guys here. My gut clenches with anxiety.
There’s gunfire in the house, and then heavy footsteps pound up the stairs outside the ballroom. The question is who they belong to. Eagles, Unwanted or Mafia?
Turns out it's all three, and chaos erupts around us. A whole mass of people barrels into the room. Bullets are flying, and everyone's diving to get out of the way. I grab Sandra's wrist to pull her with me.
At least I try, before a massive arm wraps itself around my throat.
"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" Crusher's hoarse voice and fetid breath are in my ear. "This whole thing's going to shit, but I'm not going to fucking let you go. As long as I've got you, your boy scouts won't kill me. Now come on, Sugar. We're getting the fuck outta here, and then you can help me celebrate afterwards." He puts the barrel of his pistol against the side of my head and starts pulling me backwards towards the far side of the room between two rows of crates.