Page 26 of Nicoletta
“You’re probably right, but I’ve never been one who makes safe decisions.” The voice moves closer to illuminate Smoke under the dim security light. He’s flanked by Bolt and Blood, all gripping guns aimed at my abductors and me.
“Now, drop that fuckin’ gun, or I’ll show you what a good shot I am,” Smoke threatens.
My captor can obviously see he’s outnumbered, so he lays the gun at his feet. When he straightens, he shoves me into his partner, who whips his arm around my waist, tugging me close. A second later, the cold steel of his gun is pressed against my temple.
“You either let us walk out of here with her, or I pull the trigger.”
My legs weaken, and he grips me tighter until breathing is almost impossible.
Smoke shakes his head. “Not smart.”
“This bitch means nothing to you,” the guy presses the gun harder.
“You’re right.” Smoke lowers his gun, and my heart skips a beat.
“Yeah.” Blood does the same. “Fuckin’ bitch is nothing but a lying cunt anyway.”
Smoke and Blood nod in agreement.
Bolt casually shrugs, lowering his gun a few inches too. “Guess I can get anyone to suck my dick.”
My captor laughs, loosens his grip, pulls the gun away from my head, and a milli-second later, a sharp, cracking sound echoes through the alley. A high-pitched whine pierces my ears, then my captor’s arms go slack as he falls to my feet, blood seeping from his forehead. The heavy scent of sulfur fills the small space, along with a ringing reverberation.
The other guy attempts to retrieve his gun off the ground, but Blood delivers a roundhouse kick to his head, and he collapses alongside his companion.
Smoke shoves me to Bolt, who rushes me down the other end of the alley as the rest of the Royal Bastards charge past us. We don’t stop until we reach his bike parked on the far side of the gym. He swings his leg over the seat, grips my forearm, pulls me on behind him, and a minute later, we’re speeding toward the street.
I wrap my arms around a man who just shot another man to keep me safe. Or so he can take me back to his clubhouse to torture me himself. The huge machine vibrates between my thighs, and I vacillate between pure erotic elation and paralyzing fear. It’s not every day I have an outlaw biker’s bullet whiz past my head, and two seconds later, my abductor’s bloody body collapses to my feet.
When did my perfectly boring, scheduled, organized life become a matter of life and death? My life and/or my death. Not really sure which, but right now, my brain is short-circuiting,and I have no choice but to hold on tight and enjoy the ride. Especially since it may be my last experience on earth.
CHAPTER 10
NICOLETTA
After Bolt pulls into the lot behind The Tropics, he shuts off the engine and jerks his chin for me to get off. My feet no sooner hit the cracked blacktop than two other motorcycles rumble up alongside us with a very grim-faced Blood and Smoke.
The three men give each other a look only they can decipher, then herd me toward the back door. The scent of leather, motor oil and anger surround me on all sides.
Fear of the unknown, having a gun pressed to my head, and then a body at my feet twenty minutes ago hit me hard. I stumble slightly, and Bolt grabs me under the arm, easily moving me along like I weigh nothing. I’m powerless, and that frightens me more than the outcome.
We stand in the back hallway of the club, but even the pounding music from the main bar doesn’t quiet the ticking time bomb in my brain waiting for one or all of these brutal, savage men to explode.
Smoke turns to Bolt and orders, “Take her downstairs.”
Bolt’s eyes dart from Smoke to Blood and then land on me. “No,” he barks out the single word.
Blood steps to Bolt. “Are you defying your president’s orders?”
“I’m telling you I’m not doin’ it. You want it done—you do it.”
“Fuck!” Smoke slams his palm against the wall, and I swear the hallway shakes. “Chapel. Now.”
Smoke storms past me, and I almost expect to see a trail of fire. Bolt grabs my arm again, and this time, I don’t fight him. After the night I’ve had, there’s no fight left in me, plus where would I go?
I’m surrounded by three dangerous outlaws whose combined size triples mine. And even if I could evade them, I couldn’t go back to the States. My father’s goons would surely find me and make me pay for the death of their associate, or he’d just have the LAPD lock me up again and throw away the key.
Smoke takes his usual seat, with Blood on his right side. Bolt’s still holding my upper arm in a death grip as he steers me into a chair then hovers over me.
