Page 52 of Nicoletta
The other guards wrestle Clark off the stage as sirens blare outside. Obviously, someone had the good sense to call the police.
Bolt pushes me in front of him, just as a loud whistle draws everyone’s attention to the back of the room, where Smoke, Blood and Diesel stand, no longer in catering uniforms. They look every bit like outlaw bikers here to protect one of their own.
Smoke moves into the room, and the crowd literally parts for him. Eyes widen, taking in the leather, denim and chains—some with a hint of admiration.
Smoke waves his arm overhead “Let’s hit it.”
Bolt tips my chin. “Time for us to leave.”
He hustles me down the steps and off the stage. We reach Smoke just as the police enter, blocking the main door of the ballroom.
“Fuck!” Smoke nods at Bolt. “It’s about to get ugly.”
“I think it already has.” Bolt grabs my arm, steering me toward the side door. “Let’s go.”
Behind us, footsteps pound. Police shout for us to stop, but we keep running—not thinking, just running. Bolt angles me in the other direction as Diesel and Blood hold off the cops.
People scream. Tables upend, and plates crash to the floor behind us, but Bolt veers off and pushes us through a fire door.Suddenly we’re outdoors on the side of the building. We take off for the front, the pavement hard and uneven under my stilettos.
As Bolt scans the area, a wave of dizziness engulfs me, and I falter. He swings me up like I weigh nothing and jogs with me in his arms to the carport.
A black SUV idling in the circular driveway guns the engine and speeds toward us, then slams on the brakes. When the back door swings open, we hop in to see Manny behind the wheel.
A few seconds later, Diesel, Smoke and Blood burst out of the main entrance. Manny pulls forward, and Blood hops into the third row of the Escalade as Diesel shoves in next to us. Smoke jumps into the passenger side, slams the door, then bangs on the dashboard. “Go, go!”
Manny hits the gas and jerks the SUV around on two wheels, then speeds down the long driveway and onto the main street.
My head won’t stop spinning, and nausea grips me hard. Manny’s stunt driving isn’t helping—or the look Bolt’s giving me.
“Are you all right?” he asks.
“I don’t feel so good,” I mumble.
“Of course you don’t, babe,” Blood says. “You were just running for your fuckin’ life.”
Diesel bangs on the back of Smoke’s seat. “Fuck, that was crazy.”
He jostles me, and a sharp pain rips up my side. I press my hand against my rib cage, and the pain worsens.
“Something’s wrong.” I remove my hand, and it’s covered with blood.
“Shit!” Bolt bellows. “She’s been hit.”
I look down at myself again, and blood has now soaked through the side of my dress.
Bolt’s jaw tightens, and my heart kicks up. His expression stills, then a second later, it’s controlled, like he’s trying to contain his fear.
“Ahhh, fuck.” Diesel leans in, tearing away the fabric where the bullet tore into my dress. “Looks like a flesh wound.”
Bolt angles my body, and I moan.
Smoke turns in his seat. “What’s goin’ on?”
“She got grazed.” Bolt’s voice floats above me. “We gotta pull over so I can get the first-aid kit outta the back.”
“Not yet,” Blood says from the back seat. “We gotta wait till we get out of L.A.”
“Stay off the highways and head for Long Beach,” Bolt says. “We’ll hit up the doc who patched me up when that asshole slashed me down by the beach.”
