“Down,” Wrath growled, shovin’ me to the ground and then turnin’ on his boot to run toward the rest of his club who were huddled around a moanin’ body.
I’d never been happier to hear moans of pain because it meant no one was dead.
Not yet.
Grease, the Berserkers VP, rallied them together along with three bags of our shit and took off with most of them as the sound of sirens began to wail faintly from up north.
As soon as the grumble of bikes receded to a low purr, I shot to my feet despite the ache in my body and jogged over to my fallen brother.
Wrath intercepted me before I could reach him with a strong grip on my arm.
“That went off without a hitch.”
“You call a brother of mine gettin’ hit, goin’ off without a hitch?” I asked, my raised brows cuttin’ lines in my forehead. “You forget if things go your way, that man moanin’ on the ground will be your brother too.”
“Don’t forget it,” Wrath said with an eye roll. “You’re just bein’ overprotective. So he got a little bullet wound. He’ll live.”
I shoved him, but I could tell by the conversation Lion and Axe-Man seemed to be having that everythin’ was goin’ to be fine with my Fallen brethren.
Lion was already crouched over him, slappin’ lightly at Axe-Man’s face to rouse him from his painful stupor.
“Fuck,” the massive blond man wheezed. “Fuck you, you fuckin’ ’serker.”
“Shut the fuck up and put pressure here. The cops are comin’, and they’ll get you to the hospital.”
“Fuck you,” Axe-Man repeated before launchin’ a wet missile of spit at Lion’s shocked face.
Lion wiped his cheek roughly, then cursed under his breath and turned toward us, carefully rearrangin’ his features when we locked eyes. The man’d always been private, reserved to the point of coldness, and unflappably polite.
It would’ve been fair to say few people really knew the man he was beneath the good guy, gentleman cop persona, but I did.
And so did Harleigh Rose.
In fact, if anyone knew him, it was my little sister, and if anyone loved him better than anyone else, it would’ve been her too.
“Thanks, man,” I grumbled to Wrath. I was pissed Axe-Man was hurt, but it wasn’t his fault. “Did you have to hit me so fuckin’ hard, though?”
The mammoth masqueradin’ as a man shrugged, shoulders about ready to rip through his tee. “Had to look the part.”
“Yeah, well don’t think anyone’s gonna be the wiser the way you clocked me. Jesus, have a headache for a week after this. Cress is not gonna be happy with the shiner.” Which wasn’t exactly true. My girl hated to see me hurt, but she also got a helluva rush from takin’ a fuckin’ from me after I’d been out on a run when the animalistic side of me was pushed to the forefront.
“What the fuck is goin’ on here?” Lion finally asked after watchin’ us like a novice at his first tennis match.
I swallowed my laughter, but it coloured my tone when I said, “Good to see ya, man. Have to say, like the leather better than the Canadian cowboy look you usually got goin’ on.”
“What the fuck?” he repeated.
This time, it couldn’t be helped. Laughter coiled in my belly and sprung forth so loudly, I had to tip my head back and clutch my gut to keep upright.
Recovered, I wiped a tear from my eye and grinned at him, tryin’ not to chuckle against the irritated bewilderment stamped on his face. “Yeah, betcha thinkin’ what the fuck right ’bout now, but we don’t got time to clue you in. I gotta see if Axe-Man’s gonna make it, and you two gotta get the fuck outta here.”
Wrath grunted in affirmation and stalked off. I made to do the same, but stopped shoulder to shoulder beside Lion and locked eyes with him.
“Good to see you, Danny,” I murmured, usin’ the nickname my twelve-year-old self had given him. “Stay safe, yeah?”
“Lion, get movin’!” Wrath hollered from down the hill where they’d stashed their rides, and I took it as my cue to get a move on too.
Axe-Man was fine. The bullet had gone through and through just under his lat muscle, and after we tied his bad arm down to the handle, he was able to ride back to Entrance on his own bike.
We took the backroad up the mountain, passin’ the cops racin’ down to the scene just through a copse of trees, but we made it safely to the clubhouse in no time. As soon as I walked through the doors, Ransom was handin’ me his cell.
“Sup?” I asked, pinnin’ it between my ear and my shoulder as I reached over the bar to grab a cold beer waitin’ for someone else on the counter.
“We got ’em,” Bat pronounced, glee evident in his voice. “We fuckin’ got ’em.”