Page 19 of Brooks (Dirty Misfits MC 1)
“Raven?” I asked. “It’s me; Brooks. Are you all right?”
A shadow moved away from the frosted window and I braced myself. Was she going to open the door? Would she leave me standing out here until the police came?
Is she going to call the police herself?
I knocked again on the door, but this time I used the knock she was familiar with. Two big knocks with my fist before a slew of fluttering knocks with nothing but my knuckles. I sighed as I wore my arm out knocking on that damned door. I needed to get somewhere safe. I needed to get out from beneath prying eyes that could place me at this particular scene.
Then, the doorknob finally turned.
But the door still didn’t open.
“Raven, I swear it’s me. Can you please just open up so I know you’re all right?”
The door cracked open, but I didn’t see her beyond it. Almost as if she were standing behind the door, but making way for my voice.
Better than nothing. “Did he hurt you?”
Her voice finally sounded, and it warmed my soul. “No.”
“Are you hurt? Or bleeding?”
She cleared her throat. “No.”
“Did he—I mean did he try to…”
She opened the door a bit more. “He didn’t have me pinned down for long before I flipped him over. Knocked the wind right out of him.”
I grinned. “‘Atta, girl.”
She sniffled. “What are you doing here, Michael?”
No one ever called me by my first name. No one ever dared to address me as such. But for some reason, hearing my name on Raven’s lips had always been a treat. Like a fine dessert after a rich meal.
I let my eyes close as I devoured the moment before I spoke. “I’m checking up on you, and I’m glad I did. Any idea why those idiots were here?”
And when she sniffled again, I realized what happened. She wasn’t physically hurt; she was emotionally hurt.
So, I pressed my hand against the door and opened it the rest of the way.
Ten
Raven
While I tried to watch the chaos outside through the frosted glass beside my front door, I couldn’t see much. I knew I needed to call the police, but for some reason I couldn't bring myself to do it. I knew way too much about club business anyway. And I knew that if they wanted to evade the police, they would. Calling them would only put a target on my back, and the last thing I needed was to be a woman living alone with a target drawn across her forehead.
But one by one, I heard groans of pain.
I didn’t hear too many gunshots, though there were some after that man dashed out of my townhouse. There was another sound I couldn't place, though. It almost sounded like a whooshing sound. Like something rushing by or whatever. It didn’t make sense, though.
What kind of gun made that sound?
I listened as a motorcycle off in the distance grew closer. Were there more Black Flags coming? Were they going to come take me away? I’d heard horror stories over the years of people running into those idiots at the wrong time. I’d heard of their disgusting dealings with women and drugs from Gage all those years ago. It was one of the many reasons why he wanted me to be able to protect myself.
Because while he wanted to be with me twenty-four-seven to protect me, he knew he couldn’t always be there.
And whenever he was gone, I was essentially a sitting duck.
Still, everything happened so quickly that I almost didn’t register it. There were gunshots, then that whooshing sound a few times, then that motorcycle sound. I didn’t know who came and went, but when I heard three distinct bikes rev their engines, I knew those men were about to get the hell out of dodge. I backtracked into my place and retrieved a pistol. I placed the other one back into the hutch before going back to my front door. And as I stood there with my hand on the doorknob, I braced myself to shoot whoever decided to come barreling through my front door next.
I drew in deep breaths through my nose to steady my breathing. It was a technique that Brooks taught me, actually. He said whenever he felt nervous or unsteady, three deep breaths in through his nose always helped to settle his nerves. I watched my trembling hand as it gripped the pistol and I drew in one massive breath.
And after I let it out, I drew in another one.
And another one.
And yet another one, just for good measure.
I watched as my hand slowly stopped trembling. I watched as the tremor ceased to exist as my heart wound down its frantic beating. I swallowed hard and closed my eyes, bracing myself for what came next. Because surely, my neighbors had already called the police.
