Chapter 20
TWENTY
Oro
“Inside! Everyone fucking inside!” Vado orders ducking down to get out of the gunfire.
Bullets whiz past my body as I grab hold of Estrella and yank her toward the front door of the clubhouse.
She’s not moving fast enough.
I didn’t go through all this just to lose her now. Not when I just got her back.
“Estrella, move!” I shout at her as I finally get her into the doors. Thankfully, everyone makes it inside. I don’t see any blood or wounds.
AZ quickly has Carina and Angela get the other ol’ ladies and the kids to go to the back to the tunnels. If she goes bad, which it already is, we’ve got an escape route they can take to get to safety. Hopefully, they can make it.
I need to get Estrella to go with them. I have to get her out of here.
“Starlight, get on your feet. You’ve got to go.” I shout in her face but she’s not here. Her eyes are fixed and her face is ashen. She’s not listening to me.
“Starlight. Come on, stay with me.”
“I did this. I didn’t save her. She’s like this because of me. I did this.” She mutters and I realize what’s going on. The guilt of not being able to get Sina out of harms way all those years ago is eating her up.
“No, you didn’t do this.” I duck as I hear something heavy batter hard against the doors. Smoke starts to billow under the cracks of the door but then I hear the anti fire system click on.
Thank god for the renovations.
Our clubhouse has been engulfed in flames more times than I want to think about. When we decided to rebuild the one addition that we all agreed on was the anti flame system. Burning down is the last thing this clubhouse would do.
“I did, Santi. You heard her. I should’ve tried harder. If I didn’t pretend. Didn’t let my father make me believe that this was the best I could hope for maybe I could’ve gotten more of the girls out. Maybe I could’ve just…”
“Maybe you could’ve gotten yourself killed. Maybe you could’ve made it worse for them. You can’t do this to yourself now.” I huddle down further and swipe my hand over her face trying to get her to focus on what’s going on right now.
I wanted her broken but not like this.
“Oro! We don’t have time!” Lobo yells at me as he rushes over to me with an AK. We’ve got an enemy right at our doors. The fire might not make it’s way through but sooner or later, all those bastards are going to find a way to make their way into the clubhouse. We’re going to be over run.
I need to figure out a way to get her safe, then I can worry about building her back up.
She refuses to move from where she’s sitting. I look from her to the door that looks like it’s seconds away from buckling in. At the last second, I throw myself on top of her and the doors come tumbling down. Wood splinters and lands on top of us.
I hear gun shots but not as much as I would expect from the force that was outside.
It means that not all of the Canos have weapons. They aren’t equipped to take us on. I bet that wasn’t even the plan. Sina is flying off a big hate for Estrella.
I know the feeling. When she first got here I was ready to do anything to make her feel what I thought she did to me. I was ready to risk it all to hurt her.
Now Sina has shown her hand. She thinks she’s in charge but really she’s nothing more than a pawn in this game.
“Oro, give her to me! We’ve got her.”
I look up from where I’m laying on top of Estrella. Coca and Prissy are there. A determined look on their faces as they reach down and try to yank Estrella from underneath me.
I want to be the one to save her, but right now I’m going to have to depend on the club bunnies to do what I can’t.
I can’t stop the demons that are screaming in her head.
Stop the doubts and guilt from running rampant.
All I can do is make sure that Sina and the rest of the Canos know that we’re not to be fucked with.
We taught the Canos this lesson years ago, it’s time they got a refresher course.
“Fuck!” I hear Vado yell out. I look in his direction just as Coca gets hold of Estrella and pulls her away from the danger.
Vado is by the window and one of the Canos has punched his way through the pane of glass and is trying to yank Vado back through. He’s half way out by the time I get to him.
I pull him back in my direction. Blood trickles down his face from a new cut on his face. If I would’ve come just a second later or the man would’ve pulled in just an inch to the left the glass would’ve cut through his neck and we’d be mourning something much worse.
The Canos are running around the clubhouse trying to find a way in. I hear screaming just as Vado and I get reset.
“Fuck!” Vado roars. I look up as Coca drags Estrella behind the bar. A masked Cano arm punches through a window, grabs Vado’s kutte and yanks. He is halfway out when I hit him low and rip him back inside. Glass bites his cheek and paints a thin red line. Another inch and we would be mourning.
“Shields, ahora!” Lobo bellows.
We fall back by sectors. Vado had the main floor rebuilt with steel-backed alcoves and pillar covers.
They look like decor until you squat behind them and hear rounds ping like angry bees.
Spin kills the overhead lights and the room drops to a dim pulse from the party cans.
The sprinklers keep misting. It smells like wet leather and cordite.
“Lines one and two, suppress. Lines three and four, pick targets,” AZ commands, cool and clean.
I shoulder up behind a shield wall with Digger, Lobo, and Pooh. On the far flank AZ and Carina anchor another cover point. Our girls get the remaining civilians down the tunnel hatch and dog it.
The first Cano through the doorway tries to stand and spray. We cut him off. Two controlled bursts and he drops. Another idiot dives across open floor and eats tile. We do not waste bullets. Heads, shoulders, weapon hands. Pick and place.
“Right window,” Pooh calls. “Two. One with a shotgun.”
“I have the shotty,” Digger answers.
He leans out for a clean angle, squeezes twice, and the shotgun clatters on the sill.
“Puerta lateral,” Lobo warns. “Three incoming.”
“Flash,” I say, and AZ arcs a small canister. It pops white and the three stumble blind. We tag them before they find their feet.
“Juracanos my ass,” Digger laughs, then jerks hard as a round punches his shoulder. A spray of pink mist mixes with sprinkler rain.
“Digger’s hit!” I lunge, hook my arm under his good side, and drag him behind the shield. Blood pours warm over my wrist.
“Estoy bien,” he grits, jaw clenched. “In and out.”
“Pressure,” I order. Pooh slaps a compressed bandage into my palm. I cram it into the wound and wrap tight while Lobo fires short bursts to keep heads down.
“Stay with me,” I tell Digger. “Mira me.”
He nods, pale but steady. “Still got my trigger hand.”
“Then use it.”
He does. From his knee he picks a target and drops him with one clean shot.
The Canos keep coming, but they are sloppy. We are not. Vado moves like a shadow, barking sectors and shifting fire. AZ runs ammo to the flanks between bursts. Pooh calls angles, his voice a calm metronome. Every time a head peeks, someone puts it back down.
A pipe somewhere snaps and the sprinkler rain becomes a hard curtain. The water beads on our shields and turns the floor into a slick mirror. Smoke tries to crawl in. The suppression fans chew it to a fog.
“Reload,” Lobo says. “Short and sweet.”
We cycle mags in a tight rhythm. The moment the last seat clicks home, a lull falls. The return fire thins. The doorway is a pile of groaning bodies and dropped pistols.
“They are breaking,” AZ calls. “Left flank is clear.”
“Push them,” Vado orders. “No one gets behind us.”
We surge in a staggered line from alcove to alcove. Pick, plant, fire. Pick, plant, fire. A Cano makes a run, slips on the wet tile, and eats a boot from Lobo that sends him sliding into a table leg.
“Exterior bikes rolling,” Pooh says, head cocked, listening. “Engines pulling back.”
“Keep the pressure,” Vado growls. “They chose this.”
We are winning. I can feel it in my bones. The line holds. The return fire turns desperate. One by one, the Canos drop their weapons or crawl for the street.
I risk a glance down the bar. Coca has Estrella tucked in behind a wine fridge shield with Prissy and Dulce, whispering fast and fierce into Estrella’s ear. Estrella’s eyes are glassy, but she is breathing. She is here.
“Hold,” Vado says. “Three more and they quit.”
Two pop up at the broken window and AZ nails them shoulder and thigh. The third tosses his gun and runs.
Silence falls except for the hiss of water and a few low groans. My lungs burn. My hands shake. We did it.
I turn to sweep our sector, and a hand snakes from the edge of a toppled couch and grabs a fistful of my hair. Pain blooms at my scalp and my head jerks back. A woman I do not recognize launches at me, eyes wild, a knife glittering in her fist.
“Carajo,” I grunt, twisting. I do not hit women. I shove her forearm and try to strip the blade, but she moves like a cat. The knife kisses my ribs through my shirt. Fabric tears. Heat licks my skin.
“Oro,” Vado snaps, raising his pistol. He is a breath from taking the shot.
“Wait,” I bark, keeping the woman between me and his line. The knife slashes again. I parry with my forearm and feel the bite.
She yanks my hair harder, trying to drag me out of the shield’s shadow. Another inch and I am open to the door.
Then the air changes. Heels slap tile. A chorus of female voices rises behind me.
Coca, Prissy, Dulce, and three more club bunnies explode from behind the bar like a wave.
They move with purpose, all elbows and fury.
Coca loops her rosary around the attacker’s wrist and yanks it down.
Prissy steps in and drives a palm into the woman’s nose.
Dulce hooks a leg and scythes. The knife clatters and skids.
The woman still clings to my hair. Coca grabs a handful of the attacker’s ponytail and gives it back with interest. Two more bunnies grab shoulders, twist, and plant her face-first into the wet floor.
“No knives for our house,” Coca hisses, boot on the woman’s wrist. “Tranquila, loca.”
The woman snarls and tries to buck. She gets nothing. The bunnies pin her clean. Prissy scoops the knife and flicks it to me handle first.
“You good, Oro?” she asks, breathless but grinning.
“Estoy bien,” I say, rubbing my scalp. “Gracias.”
Vado lowers his weapon, eyes flicking over the room. “Secure the wounded. Get zip ties on any live ones. Pooh, call the doc. AZ, sweep the perimeter. Lobo, check the tunnel and bring our people home.”
“Yes, Presidente,” we answer as one.
I crouch by Digger. He is pale but stubborn, pressure bandage blooming red.
“You still with me, cabrón?”
He grins through clenched teeth. “You owe me a beer and a new shirt.”
“You get a beer, a shirt, and a damn medal.” I squeeze his good shoulder. “No te mueras.”
“Not today.”
Across the room, the last Canos limp for the street. Engines snarl. Tires spit gravel. The sound dwindles into the night.
The sprinklers finally cut off. Water drips from the rafters. The colored party lights hum to life, painting the wreckage in soft red and blue. The room smells like rain and victory.
We are not done. Sina is still out there, and the Canos just learned we will not break. But my brothers are alive. My house still stands. And every bastard who thought they could walk through our door learned something important tonight.
You do not come for the Royal Bastards on our island and walk away whole.
I turn back toward the wine cooler to put my eyes on Estrella again. I need to make sure she’s okay.
That’s what I need but that’s not what I get.
I don’t see her. She’s not there.
“Estrella!” I shout but no one answers.
Sina’s gone and so is my woman.