Roan (The Henchmen MC 17)

Create a distraction when it was time.

Then go.

And then it was time.

And then I went.

I saw him tear through the glass room. I knew he saw something. Likely the light sparking off my gun.

But he didn't know where to look for me when he came out.

And I got behind him.

The way his body stiffened when my gun cocked was worth all the waiting.

The pause after was expected, like he was trying to gauge what his choices were in the situation. If he could call to the guys at the gates before I put a bullet through his skull. Or he was close enough to disarm me.

He hadn't trained me, of course.

But he had been the one to open my eyes, to make me seek training.

And, well, I wasn't that damn stupid to get too close.

Eventually, he chose to turn.

To face death.

It took a long moment for his gaze to meet my face, likely too surprised to find boobs and hips where he expected muscles and pecs.

"Remember me, you sonofoabitch?"

I didn't mean to say that. I had been planning what I would say at this very moment for years.

I practiced it in the shower, in front of the mirror, in bed when I couldn't sleep.

It was scathing and smart and polished.

But nope.

What came out of my mouth?

Bitterness and profanities.

Real cool and classy.

"Mack?" his breath hissed out of him, a sound barely audible, his voice all but unfamiliar in its quietness. "This isn't possible."

A lot of things weren't possible.

Like a girl as painfully average as I had been getting wrapped up with a spy.

Like having feelings for someone who was just using me.

Like devoting my life to becoming a force to be reckoned with because of him.

Like chasing him through endless countries.

Like tracking him down in some little town in the States after all was said and done.

I learned to accept every impossibility as an opportunity. To get better. To prove myself.

"And yet here I am," I told him, watching as those dark eyes of his flashed. Working. They were working. Figuring out angles. I always thought, back in the day, that they had just been taking in the moment. It wasn't until after that I knew what was happening. That he was just looking for ways to use what I was saying against me, that he was trying to find new ways to get me to trust him, so he could use that trust.

What his angle was now was anyone's guess.

"Are you going to kill me?" he asked, making no move, not so much as a finger twitch.

"You deserve it."

"Yeah," he agreed, nodding. "I do."

Before I could even try to analyze that, there was the peeling noise of a bike. Then, if I wasn't mistaken, another.

Coming fast.

So fast that the guys at the gates threw them open on instinct just a second before the bikes came, kicking up dust.

"Fuck," Roan hissed even as my mind raced, trying to figure out what my options were. "Put the gun down, Mack. I'll talk to them. It doesn't have to get ug..."

It was already getting ugly.

His brothers were hopping off their bikes, pulling out guns.

I had less than a minute to get away.

They were taller, faster.

I was outnumbered.

Unless...

I needed a distraction.

I took a deep breath, finding I needed to steel my stomach to do it.

But I took a step back, aimed, and shot.

I was already running before Roan's body jolted at the impact as the bullet ripped through flesh.

There was yelling behind me, footsteps following.

My heart thudded in my chest as I got low, slipped into the tunnel, cursing myself for not taking more time, making it wider.

It wasn't a big deal to carefully crawl through a tunnel when you had as much time as you needed. It was a whole other beast to throw yourself into it with a group of dangerous men behind you.

But, I tried to comfort myself as my fingers clawed through dirt, as my shoulders rammed against packed earth, if it was barely big enough for me, then it was likely too tight for them to fit into, let alone gain on me.

Dirt filled my mouth, covered my body as the sweat covered every inch of my exposed skin. I blinked it out of my eyes as my hands finally grabbed the top of the hole, my arms shaking as I dragged my body out, praying that no one was waiting for me, that they hadn't been able to figure out where I might come out, as absurd as that was.

There was no time to look around as I rose to a squat, then bounced up onto my feet. I just turned and ran. The faster I could disappear, the better.

Even as I tore through the back streets, I could hear them.

Footsteps.

Someone had found me, followed me.

I knew enough about The Henchmen MC to know that they were an unusually chivalrous lot. At least for arms-dealing bikers anyway. They didn't hurt women. That said, I'd just shot one of their own. And nothing, not even their morals about leaving women out of things, came above their brotherhood.