40. Camile #2
They aren’t gentle, and I turn around to tell them they’re hurting me. It’s Rook, and the look on his face is pure panic. Rook put himself in a terrible position to save me before, and now here I am trying my best, it seems, to put him in harm’s way again.
I should go with him and follow Zane and Vani, and Mack and her Devils, who are heading toward the outbuildings where we could hide.
I should, but one look down the hill at Jack, Ghost, and now Ace running toward the damn vehicles has me acting on instinct.
I kick out and scream, but when Rook still clings on, I twist and drop, and it mercifully works.
His hold on me loosens enough for me to sink down and slide out of his grasp.
Then I’m flying after the men, wanting to physically pull them out of danger.
Rook takes after me, his footsteps pounding the ground.
“Goddamn it, Camile. Why won’t you ever do what you’re fucking told?”
Rook is livid, his tone one I’ve never heard from him before. As we near the chaotic scene, he grabs me again, arms around my waist, and pulls me behind a massive dumpster.
“Rook, let me go. They could get killed.”
“They’re more likely to get killed if they’re worried about you.” His grip on me only tightens.
Shit!
I can see around the side of the dumpster, though, if I crane my neck. I feel someone’s face right by mine, and Rook is doing the same.
“What the fuck?” As he speaks, his hold on me goes slack.
This time I don’t take the opportunity to run because his voice is troubled and his fear scares me.
“What?” I demand.
A tall, rangy man jumps out of the truck and fires a shotgun into the air.
When the shouting, gunshots, and other noise carries on, he leans into the SUV window and presses on the horn.
The sound blares out, and the two groups who had been firing at one another—a couple of his men, and some bikers using a truck for cover—stop.
Thank God, too, because I realize with horror that Shelley and Megan were standing close enough to be hit. Although they are behind some of the bikes, and a couple of cars, hopefully offering them some cover.
“I don’t want no trouble.” The tall man shouts. “I’ve come here for one reason, and one reason only. To reunite with my good friend, Ryan. Ryaaan, oooooh Ryyyyaaaaannnn.” He sing-songs the name. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.”
Rook stands, and my heart lurches.
“Rook, no” I cry, trying to grab him before he does something stupid.
But he shakes me off and points back at me. “Stay,” he orders, as if I’m a dog. “This is my business.”
He walks around the side of the dumpster, into full view of the man who is shouting for him. The crowds part, giving space for Rook and this new guy to talk.
Damn him, they’re all going to get hurt at this rate. Who are these people?
On my hands and knees, I crawl nearer, trying to make sure I can hear what’s going down.
“Clay? What the absolute fuck is this?” Rook demands. “You hit an ol’ lady with your truck, and your men could have shot someone. I thought we were friends.”
“You think you can kill my bro and get away with it, Ryan?” the man called Clay yells.
“Whatever you think you know, it’s wrong.” Rook shakes his head.
Though the firing, and the screaming and shouting, have stopped, it’s still very tense. Half of Jack’s club are armed, and there’s what appears to be a standoff with the guys in the trucks.
Phoenix moves cautiously to stand close to Megan, and I like how much he seems to care about her and Shelley, even though he doesn’t really know them.
Megan’s entire body is shaking. Shelley and Bear are on the other side of her, and Shelley takes hold of one arm, as Phoenix grabs her by the other, and they practically hold her up.
The PTSD she must be experiencing right now is horrendous to imagine.
“I know you went to my brother for help, you fucking snake, after you betrayed all of us, and he gave you what you deserved.”
“What?” Rook raises his arms and slaps them back down against his sides in frustration. “You think I betrayed you? Are you fucking kidding me? Were you and your brother dropped on the head as babies? I did way more time than I should have for simply being the driver.”
“You didn’t, though, did you? You got out.
” Clay sneers at Rook with real hatred etched on his pointed face.
“Then you had the audacity to contact Jarrod and ask for a favor? Oh, no, fuck you. He did right to hand you over, but you got away, and now he’s missing, and I assume dead.
I mean, it’s something of a coincidence, no? ”
Rook’s hands are clenching and unclenching as if he’s trying not to hit Clay. “You think I deserved to be betrayed by Jarrod? When I actually served more than my time because I refused to cooperate with the police? You piece of shit.”
With a roar, Rook rushes Clay and takes him to the ground. Gunshots ring out again, and Megan screams. Phoenix pushes her down, so she’s partly shielded by the bikes, and I hedge back to the dumpster.
Above the cacophony comes the wail of a police siren. Thank God. Three police vehicles race into the compound, pulling up, with the lead one letting out one last whoop-whoop.
I’ve never been happier to see the police. I know the club has some cops in their pockets, but have issues with some others, but right now, whoever these police are, they are about the only thing that can stop any bloodshed.
“Hands in the air.” The speaker from one of the vehicles rings out with the words of the cop inside. “Right fucking now. All of you.”
How did they get here so fast? Someone from the club must have called them, surely. I doubt there’s anyone close enough to the compound to have heard the gunshots and arguing.
One cop is standing on the side ledge of the front vehicle, a massive rifle aimed into the air.
“One more person even twitches, and I’m taking your balls off.
Now, slowly, lower your weapons. Anyone from the penitentiary, keep those hands in the air.
If you are an escaped prisoner and I do not see your hands, I will take that as a sign you are still trying to evade capture.
Then we will use whatever force is necessary. ”
Everyone starts to drop their guns or bends to put them on the ground, except for Jack.
He shoves his into the waistband of his jeans and saunters over to the man. “Evening, Deputy Dawson.”
The man nods at Jack. “We received information that the escaped prisoners were heading this way, so we thought we’d come and see what was going on. Don’t want any more trouble around these parts.”
“No, of course not.” Jack nods. “You have your escaped prisoners, so I guess we’ll let your men round them up.”