37. Mila
37
The door blows inwards, pieces of it launching into the office landscape, followed by a billowing dark cloud. Hidden in the way back with Faith, Ella and Scrapper, I don't give the gray cubicle wall we're using for cover much chance of withstanding anything at all. But hopefully, we're at least a little harder to find. This feels too much like the night of the fire, but in spite of it all, I trust Scrapper, Reaper and Mack to come through for me.
The rest of the crew are scattered across the rest of the landscape. Bull's with the people who knew first aid, trying to make sure Mad Dog doesn't bleed out. God, please don't let him die.
I don't even know him, or Bull, really, other than that I know he likes his news on the big screen, but they're members of the Screaming Eagles. Scrapper, Reaper and Mack see them as brothers. I don't even want to imagine them dying because of me.
“I've made such a mess of this.” I didn't mean to say it out loud, but it just kind of falls out.
“If I gotta take you over my knee for a spanking for saying stupid shit, I'm gonna do it once we're outta here, just so that's clear,” Scrapper hisses. “We chose this, not you. Now shut up.”
From back here, I have no idea how many of them there are, but it sounds like a bunch. With only Scrapper and Bull here, I can't imagine we have much of a chance, but maybe the cavalry isn't that far away. I wish someone would send me a message or something. I hope there's a good reason, and not that no one's seen our stream.
“Stay real fucking quiet,” Scrapper whispers. “I'm gonna distract them.”
And then he's gone around the cubicle wall, leaving the three of us feeling really exposed.
I hold my breath and strain my ears. Guns are going off around the building. Does that mean our backup is here? Or are they going around executing people in the building? God, I hope not. But none of them are right here, at least not right now.
There's a dull thud, a quiet grunt, and then silence again. Probably Scrapper at work? I imagine that if one of them found one of us, there'd be a lot more noise. It's a game of cat and mouse in the cubicle maze, but they're not being that quiet, firing off calls to each other regularly to track each other's locations. They have the confidence of numbers.
“Carl? Sound off, man.” One of the voices suddenly sounds worried. “Carl!”
I hope that's the guy Scrapper knocked out.
“Around the corner. Two of you, guns up.” The same voice again, obviously the leader of the group. “Hector.”
“Here.” The voice is over by Bull and Mad Dog. Then a sudden scream. “Found one!”
One of the crew, but I don't know them. God, if people die because of me and I don't even know who they are, how horrible is that? Already the way he's blubbering for them not to kill him is tearing at my heart.
“Axe him. No witnesses.”
“Got it, bo?—”
A gunshot cuts him off, followed by a thump and a scream.
Bull? Maybe?
“Motherfucker. Find him and kill him. Start knocking over the cubicle walls. We're not here to play fucking games.” His order's followed by the rattle of a wall getting kicked down.
Almost immediately, someone cries out, “Please don't kill me! Please! I'm only doing my job. I don't know anything, I won't say anything. I haven't seen anything. I swear.” It's followed by a desperate sob. I can't take this anymore.
I stand up.
“Mila!” snap Faith and Ella at the same time.
“I'm here. I'm the one you're after. You don't have to hurt them.”
The team's leader is a big man with a square jaw and full tactical gear. Tha gun he's carrying looks like it could be used to gun down a tank. There are five guys around him, plus several more spread around the room, still in the process of knocking down the walls. He grins viciously when he sees me. “So noble. Unfortunately for you, part of my pay includes not leaving any witnesses. So while I appreciate you making my job easy, you didn't win much, baby girl. We’re here to fuck things up, not to find whoever the fuck you are.” He raises his rifle and aims it at me.
“No, you can't?—”
There's a loud bang and I squeeze my eyes tightly shut, sure that this is the end.
Except I don't fall. Nothing hits me or throws me back. My brain still seems to be intact inside my skull.
So I look again, just in time to match gazes with the team leader's vacant eyes. He's staring at nothing, but there's a thick trickle of dark red blood seeping down his forehead. I can't be more than a moment, but it feels like forever before he crumples to the floor, revealing Reaper with a smoking gun, and Mack right behind him, looking furious in a way I've never seen him. He's the calm one, the reasonable one of the three. The social worker, for Christ's sake. But that's a killing face. My big teddy bear just turned into a grizzly.
I think the guys that supported the team leader just figured it out too, as they lift their weapons. Too slowly, though. Much too slowly. Mack charges into them with a roar, spreading his arms wide and bowling four of them over at once, throwing them all into a pile of furious limbs that's obscured by the cubicle walls. “Mack!” I scream and before Faith and Ella can stop me, I'm running forwards.
I get about three steps in before a thick arm whips around me and pulls me into one of the cubicles. I try to kick and bite the hand that's covering my mouth until Scrapper whispers into my ear, “That's definitely a spanking, babe. I told you to behave.”
Knowing it's him makes me fight harder. Doesn't he understand how we can't just leave Mack alone with all those guys? And the way he holds my mouth, I can't even tell him off. All I can do is listen to gunshots, groans, screams, and a roar that can only be Mack in full on berserker mode. Scrapper's grip is like iron.
One of the goons comes around the corner just as Scrapper's fist, covered by thick brass knuckles, slams him right in the face. The guy reels backwards, two, three steps, then collapses in a pile. “Shit girl, you don't make it easy to keep you safe. Now shut up. Some of them are still hiding around here. They're not all up front.”
No one else comes to find us, but the fighting sounds intense, right up until it stops, suddenly. A few more moments of silence, and then Reaper yells, “It's clear.”
Scrapper doesn't let go yet, though. He looks around carefully, keeps himself between me and any place he's unsure about and basically carries me around to the front. We have to make it all the way up to where Mack and Reaper are before he finally lets me go. There's a whole pile of bad guys here, and I make a very distinct effort not to look too closely at them.
I wrap my arms around Reaper and Mack at the same time, though I probably look like a squirrel trying to hug two trees at once. I don't care. The sobs that I've been holding back since all the shooting started rack my body until Mack literally picks me up and holds me against his chest. I grab his shirt and press myself against him, emptying myself completely.
Then I have all three of them around me, boxing me in so I can feel safe again. In the background, I'm vaguely aware of Faith being given the same treatment. She told me their names at the brunch—Alpha and Blade, I think. Ripper I definitely remember after how he greeted us the first time I entered the club. To think I was scared of him then.
Then again, his big handgun is still smoking, and there's a hook that looks really freaking sharp on his off hand that's dripping blood. Okay, I'm a little scared of him, but I also see how a teary-eyed Faith has wrapped herself around him, and I realize that maybe I'm not so different with my own set of big, deadly bikers.
“Think the whole building's clear,” says one of the Eagles I've seen around the clubhouse, but don't know yet. “Getting calls from the other teams, saying their areas are clean. Prez is on his way.”
He's barely said it before Eagle-eye bursts into the room. “If any of you fuckers let Faith get hurt—” he starts in a menacing growl.
“Dad! It's okay! I'm fine! Over here!” Faith breaks free from her guys and charges into Eagle-eye's arms. He lifts her and squeezes her close. He might only have one functioning eye for seeing, but there are tears coming out of both of them.
Meanwhile, Ella secures her crew. Miraculously, while one got shot, none of them are seriously hurt. Doc and Emily come charging in to help Mad Dog, and when Faith is released by her father, she runs over with her phone. She holds it up to me triumphantly so I can see how many people are following the stream by now. My jaw drops, and then I realize the camera's facing me, so I wave awkwardly. “Hi… um, I guess we won? At least tonight?”
Faith laughs and walks off with her phone, chatting to the followers and wrapping up the stream. Her guys shake their heads and laugh, but they're obviously relieved that she's okay.
Finally, Ella comes over. “I'm so glad we're all okay. I'm sure you want to get out of here. I'll deal with everything here in terms of Channel 7. There's no reason for you to?—”
“Can we finish the special?” I interrupt.
“You want to… seriously?”
“There's a reason someone's out to silence me. We need to get this on the news and out into the open before they find other ways of shutting us down.”
It takes her a moment, but then she nods. “Even if I have to man the camera myself.”
Mack crosses his big arms over his chest, so I know there's a declaration coming. “You do what you need to do, but I'm letting you know right now, that we're not fucking letting you out of our sight until this whole fucking mess is resolved. And maybe not fucking ever.”
Scrapper and Reaper back him up immediately. “You coulda fucking died,” snaps Reaper and he sounds genuinely pissed.
“And I haven't forgotten my promise,” says Scrapper, and I'm having a really hard time figuring out if he's really angry, or is just looking forward to throwing me over his knee. My butt's aching just at the thought, but I'm surprised to find I don't hate the idea either. But that's later.
“Alright. But before you can fuck me, we need to fuck the system.”
Scrapper grins. “I love the sound of that.”