Chapter Two - FelixAthena #2
The weather had deteriorated since we parked our bikes and headed into the forest. Maybe, the shockingly heavy snow drifts left her confused.
Against my sense of survival, I halted and forced my cell phone up, allowing the flashlight to halo her and the flurries of snow falling. “Let’s look at the coordinates again.”
“Stop whining,” Fendi ordered.
I’d been praying to find this beacon in the dark, which she’d said was our target when she pulled up the GPS location, and she showed me the place on Google Earth. So far, we hadn’t found it. “Double check the fucking coordinates, Fendi.” It wasn’t a suggestion this time. It was a fucking order.
“I don’t have reception,” Fendi said, annoyed. “I checked when we first started out, but I’m ninety-five percent certain we’re on the correct course.”
Long ago, Fendi had been the RC, so I trusted her sense of direction. She wrapped an arm around my shoulders and tucked me into the warmth of her body. I couldn’t believe she wasn’t freezing. She was so fucking warm, I wondered if she’d developed a fever.
“Hot flashes have their perks,” she said cheerfully when I inquired. “I could roll around in this fucking snow buck naked and it wouldn’t affect me.”
“You’re so fucking insane,” I said around laughter, our earlier tension forgotten, though her toastiness seemed more than a fucking hot flash. “I cannot imagine—”
A loud blast cut through the silent night. Fendi jerked and stumbled. Her sudden release of me sent me sprawling face-first into the snow. I gasped at the jolt of iciness splattering my face. The hood of my jacket slid off my head, and my hair swirled around me.
Gunfire burst around me. If I hadn’t fallen, I would’ve been shot.
My grip on the briefcase slackened, surprising me, but I quickly reclaimed it.
We had a job to do just as soon as we neutralized the threat.
Whatever the fuck it might be—hunters on a suicide mission for a stag or serial killers on the hunt for unarmed victims.
The joke was on them. We were armed to our fucking teeth and wouldn’t hesitate to use any weapons within reach.
I released my phone, intending to dig out the gun in my pocket, but a body landed on top of me, gurgling and convulsing.
“What–”
The weight lifted away, and someone yanked me to my feet by my hair.
The brightness of several headlamps momentarily blinded me until Fendi’s body was shoved in my line of vision and a shotgun was pumped.
“No!” I screamed, the next blast almost deafening me. A plume of guts and gore polluted the air. “Fendi!”
“Only good Harlot is a dead one.”
I trembled as if I’d been shot, but the sound of Thirteen’s voice chilled me more than my frozen surroundings ever could.
She, Chantilly, and Trixie’s bright headlamps illuminated the area, allowing me to see their cuts and Bloody Femmes insignia. They were the sister club to the Bloody Scorpions and as much our rivals as the Scorpions were of the Bastards.
But why were they there, and who set us up? My guess was Razor, although Roman was a motherfucker and a more logical choice.
Those three cunts smirked at Fendi’s body. I pressed my lips together, searching for a way to de-escalate the situation. Not only for me to survive, but so I could get my VP away. If they took her, they’d desecrate her remains.
Inside, I gagged. Fendi was dead. But no. Just a few minutes ago, we’d been talking and joking.
She couldn’t be dead. I was dreaming. No! This was a cold-induced hallucination, brought on by hypothermia. Perhaps, I was stretched out in the snow, on the verge of death.
“Hand over the briefcase.” Trixie’s demand seeped into my shock. She pointed a .9mm at my heart while Chantilly aimed a .22 at my head.
Suddenly, my fingers didn’t feel so fucking frozen.
If I went for my weapon, they’d fucking shoot me.
But I had to live. I had to warn my club members and the Bastards.
Find Warrior and warn him that Razor was a traitor, although it might already be too late.
The Bloody Scorpions probably coordinated a separate attack against them.
I had to alert my sisters and get them to the Haven.
They’d bring Bob the Biter. Our trailer was on club grounds, but it was still isolated.
At twenty, Juno was just starting to prospect. Last month, at my birthday party, I’d just christened her Thora. Lake– Aphrodite – was twenty-five and once dreamed of being the second coming of Janis Joplin.
Blasphemy, but the only thing that outmatched Lake’s beauty was her confidence. She’d made peace with her lot in life and was now a well-liked member of my club. Still, they both needed me to steer them away from the hard knocks I’d faced.
Thirteen punched me in the stomach, and I sucked in a breath.
Fucking bitches.
De-escalation was a pipe dream when I was dealing with rabid fucking mutts.
“I want that fucking money, Athena,” Thirteen spat.
I looked around, praying for a small opening, a way to distract them, but finding nothing. “Fuck you.”
They’d take the briefcase once they gunned me down, but no fucking way would I just hand it over. Fuck them. Fuck Razor. I wouldn’t allow that freeze-dried motherfucker to use me to betray our clubs. Besides, I had to survive and avenge Fendi’s death.
Trixie opened fire. Not on me , but on Fendi. Again.
The bullets tore into her flesh, ruining her a little more.
Seemingly through a tunnel, I watched Thirteen reload her shotgun, put it to Fendi’s temple, and pull the trigger. Her head exploded, and I leaned over and vomited.
“Give me the fucking briefcase, Athena,” she ordered again, aware she’d just completely fucked with my head. I was defenseless and at their mercy, which left me no choice but to allow their abuse of my VP.
Despite our complicated history, we were sisters. We lived together, and we died together. More than that, I was Fendi’s Prez, and one of my jobs was to protect my members.
“Roman’s dead,” Thirteen spat, brimming with anger and resentment. “All the brothers from the KC chapter are.”
Confusion assaulted me, and I shook my head. We’d been sent to deliver the suitcase to Roman. How could he be dead?
I couldn’t imagine him as a corpse.
She was staring at me with expectation, but what the fuck did she want me to say?
“On your fucking knees,” Trixie ordered, a wad of spit hurtling from her mouth.
Still clutching the briefcase, I dropped to my knees. Thirteen sauntered forward and jammed her reloaded shotgun against my temple.
“Beg,” she said, low.
“That will never fucking happen,” I snarled. “Fuck you. Save yourself a little time, bitch, and just fucking kill me.”
“A shotgun blast will end this twat too quickly.” Chantilly’s nasally voice grated on my fucking nerves, even now when I was a second away from death. I’d wait for that bitch on the other side. “Let’s put a few holes in her first. See how long she can suffer.”
Gunfire cracked, and a bullet landed in my shoulder, the impact burning through my skin and dragging bits of material from my clothes into the wound.
“We can do this all night,” Trixie crowed. “Play target practice with your narrow ass.”
Chantilly shot again. Pain careened through my thigh. I fell face down.
“Who’s out there?” a deep voice demanded.
“Fuck! Let’s go!” Thirteen ordered.
In response, Trixie opened fire. She’d always been a gun-happy bitch.
I closed my eyes as more gunfire burst around me.