36. Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Six
Evie
I crossed one leg over the other and tried to pretend that my stomach wasn’t twisting itself into all kinds of knots. Clayton paced the small space, which would’ve made me more nervous if he still had that gun in his hand, but right now it was sitting on the edge of Harley’s desk.
Harley didn’t do much of anything. He just sat like a lump in that chair, hands folded on his stomach, eyes moving over me in a way I really didn’t like. He hadn’t even said anything for the last few minutes. Just watched me.
I was determined not to do anything worth watching, but sitting still hadn’t ever been something I was much good at. I wanted to make a grab for the gun, use it to get myself out of here. Maybe shoot Clayton once to show him how it felt.
The thought of Sweeper lying on my driveway drove away my other thoughts. I didn’t see where he was hit, but I knew it had to be bad for him to just stay down and not try to come after me. I kept telling myself that he was going to be okay, that one of the neighbors had called the cops and someone had found Sweeper right after I left.
Except gunshots around Bedford didn’t always mean something was wrong.
“You know, most women talk too much for me, but you’re quiet.”
Harley licked his lips, reminding me of that giant slug creature from Star Wars , the one who put Leia in that ridiculous gold bikini.
“Not when she’s being fucked,” Clayton said with a laugh. “She makes all sorts of noises then.”
I flushed, but embarrassment was only a sliver of what coursed through me now. This wasn’t just anger about being kidnapped, or because Sweeper had been shot. No, this was pure rage at the violation these two men had put together. Not just of me, but of the brothers too. They might not have the sort of public profile I did, but they had family and friends. People in Bedford knew them. Knew their family.
“Hope you two got your fill of me in that video,” I said. “Because it’s the closest you’ll ever get. And when the Riders are done with you, if you’re not dead, you’ll be spending your prison time making all sorts of noises.”
“Listen here, you little bitch—” Clayton took a step toward me, his hand up and ready to backhand me.
Someone came crashing through the door, wide-eyed and a hell of a lot more panicked than I’d ever thought a biker could look.
“Riders,” he gasped before falling.
It wasn’t until I saw the knife sticking out of his back that I realized he hadn’t been panicked. He’d been stabbed.
Then, gunshots. Not as loud as they were at Rocky’s or when Clayton shot Sweeper, but a lot closer than they should’ve been if the Thunder Riders had just gotten here.
Harley pushed himself up from his seat, his eyes gleaming. “Fuckers used blades to surprise us. I didn’t think they had the guts for up close work.”
“They’re fucking cowards,” Clayton spat. “Probably didn’t even ride up to the clubhouse either. Parked somewhere else and walked.”
I stared at him. “You pretended to be a concerned friend to get close to me, and then shot someone.”
“We do what we have to do,” Clayton said. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand—”
“Shut the fuck up,” Harley said as he came around the desk. His shoulder knocked into Clayton and sent the younger man stumbling. “You ain’t a Cobra. Sit in here like a good boy until the grown-ups are done.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
Harley didn’t even acknowledge his nephew as he stepped over the unmoving guy on the floor and headed down the hall, pulling a gun from the back of his pants.
For a moment, both Clayton and I froze, but then Clayton let loose a flurry of curses and grabbed for his gun. I shrank back in my chair, sure that I was about to die, but he didn’t even look at me. Instead, he stormed out of the office, leaving me alone with some random guy who might or might not be bleeding out on the floor.
Another burst of gunfire—much closer this time—got me moving. This office had only one door and no windows, which meant I was either hiding behind the desk, or I was going out there.
I needed a weapon.
A quick search of the desk didn’t reveal anything other than Harley’s wide and disturbing taste in porn, so I was in the process of debating whether I should just make a run for it anyway when I remembered that I did actually know where one weapon was.
Crouching next to the guy on the floor, I grabbed his wrist and felt for a pulse. When I didn’t feel anything, I braced myself and grabbed the hilt of the knife sticking out of his back. I grimaced as it slid free, then wiped the bloody blade on the dead guy’s jeans. Gripping it tightly, I headed for the hall, trying to keep myself as small a target as I could. Even though I was fairly certain that the Thunder Riders were out there, it’d be far too easy for me to catch a stray bullet.
When I reached the end of the short hallway, I peered around the corner and my heart just about stopped.
It was complete and utter chaos.
Men threw punches and kicked, broke bottles and chairs and pool cues over heads and backs. I saw flashes of metal from knives, while some men used pipes and tools as weapons. Guns still went off, but not as fast as before, making me think that either enough people were down to have made a difference, or a lot of them had emptied their guns. Unlike the way Hollywood liked to show gunfights, people didn’t only run out of bullets when it made for a good story.
The factory’s lighting was bad enough that, combined with the smoke from gunpowder, it was hard to make out who anyone was. I thought I saw a couple men I recognized from the clubhouse, but I was looking for three very specific faces and I wasn’t going to rest until I found them.
“Give it up, Harley!” Levi’s voice boomed over everything and I breathed a slight sigh of relief. “Your men are down and we know everything.”
“You’re soft, Bradshaw!” Harley shouted from somewhere to my left. “Something like this, it’s kill or be killed! That’s the way real men do it! None of this surrender shit!”
“We know you’ve been working with Clayton.” It was Mason this time. “He put a good man in the hospital and he’s gonna have to answer for that, but no more of your men have to die.”
“You come into my house and talk to me like that?” Harley stepped into the light. “You must be out of your fucking mind.”
“The place is surrounded.”
I nearly closed my eyes as relief swept through me. Tucker was okay too. And Mason said Sweeper was in the hospital, not dead.
“We’ve got your men and weapons,” Levi continued. “Give us Clayton and we won’t kill him. We’ll let the cops have him. You promise to drop all this shit and go back to how things were.”
Harley laughed. “Oh, you can have the little bastard. I don’t give a damn what you do with him. But you’re a fucking id—”
The bang of a gun cut off what Harley was going to say, but not because it was loud. As Clayton came out of the shadows, gun pointed at his uncle, Harley dropped to his knees.
“You gave me up? Where’s your fucking loyalty? Huh? You give it to these men, but not to me? Your flesh and blood? We’re family!” He screamed the last word and pulled the trigger again.
Even as the shot hit Harley right between the eyes, Clayton spun, not toward any of the bikers, but back to where I’d unconsciously taken a few steps forward, in the direction of the Bradshaws. Before he could squeeze the trigger, a shot rang out and the gun dropped. Clayton screamed, staring at the mess that was once his hand. He kept screaming as Levi shouted orders.
It was over, I realized suddenly. The Riders had come for me. All the strength ran out of my legs and my vision went gray.
Time started moving in funny little hops.
Tucker knelt in front of me, asking if I was okay.
Someone said that Harley was dead.
I asked if Clayton was alive and Mason said he was.
Levi saw the bump on my head and said he was going to kill Clayton.
Mason took the knife from my hand and tucked it away somewhere.
Tucker told me that Sweeper was going to be okay.
I was on the back of someone’s bike, my cheek pressed against familiar leather.
Jenna ran out of the clubhouse, crying and talking about how she never should’ve left me.
One of the old ladies poured me a drink while the rest helped Lara patch up the guys.
It wasn’t until I downed that shot that everything came back into focus all at once. The sounds and smells and colors, everything too vivid, too bright. I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths, then opened them to see Jenna and Isabel sitting across from me in the main room at the clubhouse, watching me with concern.
“Lara thinks you might have a concussion,” Jenna said. “But we didn’t want to take you to the hospital without talking to you first.”
“I’d rather not.” I gave her a weak smile. “I’ve had concussions before. I know what to look for.”
“Did you lose consciousness?” Isabel asked.
“I’m fine.” Judging by the look she and Jenna exchanged, they knew I was avoiding the question, but they didn’t push it. “I’d rather know how everyone else is.”
“Harley Quinn’s dead,” Jenna confirmed. “And Clayton did it in front of several witnesses, so he’s on his way to jail right now.”
“Rikki’s also been arrested for planting that camera in Levi’s room,” Isabel added. “We’re guessing she’s going to flip on Clayton for a reduced sentence.”
“He’s the one who broke into my mom’s place,” I said. “And he told the Cobras about us being at Rocky’s.”
“He’s going to get charged for all of that too,” Jenna said. “But probably not for kidnapping you, unless you want to press charges.”
“If I do that, it’ll get the Riders into trouble, won’t it?” I asked. “Because even though they rescued me, they did a lot of illegal shit to do it.”
“Right,” Jenna said. “But none of the Riders are going to ask you not to do it. It’s your decision.”
Something about her expression told me that someone had already made that suggestion around her, and she’d let them know that wasn’t going to happen. A part of me wondered if it’d been one of her brothers, but I didn’t want to know the answer.
Especially considering I hadn’t seen them since they’d each come to make sure I was okay.
It made sense, I supposed. After all, this all started because Jenna had volunteered them to protect me. If she hadn’t done that, nothing between us would’ve changed.
“Any update on Sweeper?” I twisted my fingers as guilt came surging back.
“He’ll be okay,” Jenna said, reaching out to take my hands between hers. “And no one blames you, so stop blaming yourself.”
I wasn’t so sure about that, but I let it go. “What about everyone else? Was anyone else hurt? I think someone told me before, but pretty much everything after Clayton shot Harley is a blur.”
“Some cuts and bruises,” Isabel answered. “Nothing serious.”
“They’re okay,” Jenna said softly. “All three of them are fine. And they’re around here somewhere.”
She and Isabel exchanged another one of those looks, and it said everything else I needed to know.
The awkwardness between us. Not seeing them after those first few minutes. None of that had to do with me being in shock. They weren’t around. Not for me anyway.
“What do you want to do?” Jenna asked, anger sparking in those pale eyes of hers. “Because that’s what we’ll do.”
“Can I just go back to your place?” I asked, suddenly exhausted. “If they don’t want me here, then I don’t want to be here. Besides, it’s not like they have to protect me from anyone anymore.”
“Like they did such a great job in the first place,” Jenna muttered. “Stubborn assholes.”
“I’ll go let them know that we’re leaving, and that Evie is coming with us,” Isabel said, her own irritation with the brothers written on her face.
I didn’t bother hoping that they’d realize this was the time to speak up if they wanted me to stay. No matter what they’d said to me during our time together, I thought it was pretty clear that they didn’t feel the same way I did. They’d wanted me and they’d had me. And apparently, that was enough for them.
They weren’t the first people to think I wasn’t worth the trouble, and I doubted they’d be the last.
It still didn’t make it hurt any less when Isabel and Jenna took me out to their car and no one said a word. Not even good-bye.