Hunter: MC Romance (Hell Reapers MC Book 1) (37 page)

But he was going for it. He moved the gun to the side of my head, and sucked in a tight breath of air. “You do
anything
, you bitch, and I’ll blow you away. If you get any funny ideas with that mouth of yours…” he trailed off, “I don’t want to feel your teeth.”

When I released his pathetic, hard dick, I took him in my mouth. I knew that he wasn’t going to let me live after this, and that made it all the more frightening. But I just needed this one chance.

I closed my eyes and tried to think of something else. Anything else. Anywhere but here, anyone but him. I focused on the beating of my heart, focused on the pain vibrating in my shoulder. Focus was all I could do as I rocked against his crotch, bobbing my head up and down – though I couldn’t get the sound of his groans out of my head.

Hurry up. Hurry up you prick.

It was all so wrong. I wanted to curl up and die, but I knew that I had to be strong.

When I felt his cock twitch and the fingers of his hand run against my scalp, I knew that it was time. I ever-so-slowly brought my hand up to my waist, fingering the blade’s handle through my tank-top. I felt him reach the height of pleasure inside of my mouth, and my stomach twisted with repulsion.

Tommy involuntarily rocked his head back, his eyes closing for a heartbeats time. Though his gun was pointed at my skull, in his moment of gratification – his aim wavered off an inch from where it should have been.

With one quick motion, I unsheathed him from my mouth, moved out of the way and revealed the knife, stroking it in an upwards motion and flicking the blade across the vein below his wrist.

He screamed and fired off a silenced bullet, the sound temporarily deafening my ear. It missed and I shot up to my feet. He cursed and I spat out his disgusting seed.

It didn’t take much, that was what I thought. That it didn’t take much effort at all, for the blade to sink deep into his chest.

I thought that I felt something, when the bloody blade struck him again. Something firm, like a thick muscle.

The gurgling stopped when he collapsed onto his back. Laying there with the knife in him still, red pooling out from his center – each blade of grass, and every inch of soil drinking in his last, leaking life. I found myself lost in this despondent trance.

I don’t know if it was the pain or what, but something snapped me out of it, and I ran back to the house, slipping inside and fumbling all around in search of the money.

If there even was any.

When I got into the living room, the two men that Tommy had killed were asleep in thin, red sheets on the floor. The carpet was stained, as was most of the couch – and the joint that the two were sharing had started to burn into the rug. I stepped over the mess and searched underneath the cushions of the couch; when I didn’t find anything, and with my heart still hammering away, I got to the floor and peered underneath. Still nothing that I could spy. Getting back to my feet, I sidled over nervously beside the red couch, pulling it away from the wall in willful little tugs.

In the back of my mind, paranoia had nestled. Like a bug it burrowed and deposited its eggs. More people are coming. The cops will figure out what happened. There’s no money. You killed a man. You just killed a man and you liked it.

A half sob, half yell rolled from my chest and burned my throat on the way out. The stress was choking me, and it felt like I would never be able to stymie the darkness within.

However, my heart soared when I saw a small, black shoe box tucked away behind the couch.

The first thing I did when I got in the car was lock the door and threw it in reverse, hoping there was time for me to get back.

Chapter 41

Hunter

Brad boomed like a God for us to take cover.

But I could only stare at the lifeless, still body of my fallen brother. All around the edges of the parking lot, Niners showed themselves from the shadows; one firing off rounds from inside of the back of a car, an old tarp exploding as the bullets zipped from it like embers kicking out of Satan’s fireplace.

Everything was just a blur and a haze. We’d been shot at, we’d been hurt for that matter.

But I’d never seen a brother
die
.

I went to him in a dead sprint as the Reapers and Niners went into all-out war. Chaos consuming the floor. The popping of gunshots echoed throughout, bouncing off of the walls and the pillars and cars – the thunderous applause of MAC-10’s spitting out round after round. The click of pistols triggers squeezed one too many times in the heat of battle.

Something clipped the top end of my right hand as I went for Pooh and I grunted out in pain, immediately bringing my gun up and firing in a blind rage from where I thought the shot came. I wanted to kill them all. Wanted to do it with my bare hands. The need to feel their skulls fall beneath my boot, that was all that filled me – all that sustained me was this churning sea of hate.

I didn’t have time for sadness.

After firing off a burst of bullets, I screamed at the fuckers and announced that they would all perish for what they did. Off in the distance, as I tried to drag Pooh’s body, Reyes and Jameson yelled for me to take cover.

Brad ate a bullet to the cheek and a gore of red flashed across his face, this bone-chilling yell was summoned from the depths of his chest. He went and took cover while Lex and Reyes fired off some rounds down range, each of them getting a single confirmed kill – square between the eyes for Reyes, and double-tapping one of the motherfuckers for Lex.

I only dragged Pooh’s body a couple of feet, every muscle in my body and every bone begging me to get him anywhere but here – hoping beyond hope that I could move him towards the protection of a stripped Oldsmobile.

The thought crossed my mind that I did not have to do this right now, that I could get him when we were done. I felt a fire rage through me, and instead of listening to the light of reason – instead I got up to my feet and fired my AR, walking towards a pair of two black assailants. The two Niners ducked for cover, and when a red clothed man came out of a pillar all the way at the end of the floor, I flicked my aim towards him. Over his red button-up shirt, he was wearing a ballistic vest. I pulled in a breath as he brought his two pistols up at me.

I squeezed off two rounds straight into his skull, turning before he folded in on himself limp.

When I brought my gaze back to the two men that were in cover, I squeezed off in a mad burst the last rounds of my gun. I hadn’t packed any additional ammunition for the gun, and I understood that I had my 1911 at my hip.

Knowing these things, I still charged toward the car they were hiding behind like a mad bull. I jumped onto the car as Brad killed one of the Niners that was trying to run from one set of cover to the next. I leaped from the hood of the car and onto one of the men. I tackled one of the Niners onto the hard floor, his body thudding beneath me and absorbing most of the blow – the cracking of gunfire punching the air with a cacophonous melody. From the corner of my eye, I was able to make out the fear that was forcibly etched on his face.

Bombing little thrills raged through me, and I lifted my emptied gun high into the air as the Niner beneath me was still reeling; he was only able to just start bringing his hands up to try and block the blow.

Not happening. “Fuck you,” I lashed out in a venomous fury, throwing the butt of the gun down with all of my might – it felt like I sprouted these wings of pure, body-numbing ecstasy when the end of the AR crashed into the man’s skull. His screams were even sweeter, and the tiniest gushing of blood found its way to my cheek.

I brought the gun up again; his still-living-for-now friend beginning to aim at me. His arm was shaking, and he was on the verge of squeezing the trigger when a well-timed bullet blew a dime sized hole in his wind pipe.

The kid began to fall on his ass, his hand immediately jumping for his oozing throat. Before he even hit the ground another three bullets speared him through his chest, sending rips of his white shirt through the air along with smatterings of red.

The end of my gun came down once more, and the satisfying crack of skull filled my ears. An unpleasant substance shot out from the side of the man’s skull, some of the matter flying up to my shoulder.

I knew that the kid was gone, and his friend who was bleeding out on the floor had long since given up on killing me. The gun was gone from his hand, and he was hopelessly clawing at his red throat. He tried to gulp for air, gasping and grasping and suffering from miniature convulsions; some unintelligible curse words spouted from his mouth, and in his mind I was certain that he was praying.

I would make sure that God could not listen.

In my head, the thought ran circles along my mind. He’s dead, he’s dead, he is fucking dead. But I just kept swinging the gun in a mad flurry of blows. Painting myself with red.

Brian was gone. And it was
my
fault, because
I
couldn’t see it coming. It’s all my fucking fault.

There was a hand at my shoulder suddenly, but I ignored it. I didn’t want to stop.

The hand went from holding my shoulder to yanking on me, and then a pair of arms lifted me from my chest up and off the limp body.

Reyes shouted as he dragged me away from the two Niners, “Calm the fuck down. We need to leave.”

My chest rose and sunk as I took in a series of quick breaths, a stinging pain kissing at my eyes. Jameson came over to help calm me, as Lex and Brad went to pick up what remained of Brian Karwinsky.

By the time we got outside, bloody, bruised and broken, we could hear the sounds of sirens fast approaching. Damaged and still bleeding from his cheek, grimacing in pain, Brad tried to carry Pooh’s corpse on his back – even with Lex helping, it was too much. Even if we grew wings, we’d still be screwed.

We were fucked.

Except, as the sirens became more clear – so too did something else. Jessica’s SUV was barreling towards us at frightening speeds, cutting a swath of dirt and spitting out bits of gravel as it screamed towards us. She slammed on the brakes and the vehicle didn’t stop for a good long while, the tires squealing beneath the straining pressure.

We piled ourselves into the SUV and my heart jumped into my throat when I saw Jessica. What the fuck happened to Tommy? God, oh god why is her shoulder bleeding? My eyes raked over her with worry and before I had time to process anything more, I moved in to try and hold her.

Before I could, and before I could even shut the front passenger door, she gunned the car and spun the steering wheel. I was pushed back into my seat and my hand jumped out for the handle of the door, just missing it by a couple of inches. Awkwardly as we propelled forward, I fumbled with getting it shut – but eventually the motion caused the door to close itself.

Ignoring my pain, my chest rising as Jameson and the rest started firing off questions, I looked over Jessica again. “Baby,” I said with worry, “what the fuck happened to you?”

She weaved past a stack of pipes and swerved back onto the road, sirens closing in on us. “I don’t know,” Jessica roared back, shaking her head and panting for air. “I-I don’t know, I don’t know. Tommy, he just, he-he-he pulled his,” she stopped mid-sentence, either focusing on the road or just being too affected by the stress.

“Babe,” I called out to her, reached my hand to her thigh. What the hell was she saying? “What did Tommy do?” I asked, “where the fuck is he? Why the fuck are you—“

“He shot me!” She looked between me and the road as Jameson cursed.

Jameson started hitting the back of my seat like a madman, “Lose the cops,” he ordered as Brad held at his wound, his breath coming in pained rags. “You’ve gotta lose them, Jess, or we’re buried. Finito,” he crowed.

“Tommy
shot
you?” I couldn’t wrap my head around what she was saying. “He dogged us,” I shook my head, “he fucking betrayed us.”

Cars began to show up, and Jessica weaved through them like a woman possessed – ignoring red lights and anything else that got in our way. After a moment, she slowed down and pulled into the back lot of an Aldi’s food store, her hands shaking too much.

I rubbed at her thigh, “What happened, Jess? How did you get out?”

Jameson leaned forward, poking his head into the front to mention the name of our doctor. Veterinary place off on Willow; it didn’t match an ER experience, but it was the safest option that we had. Afterwards, we would have to dispose of our heat. Throw them down the sewage drains. Clean ourselves up and send out Lex to get us some shirts and other supplies.

Jessica nodded her head at Jameson and then looked behind her shoulder, throwing the vehicle into reverse, before explaining every terrible detail that happened to her tonight as she drove us to safety.

Chapter 42

Jessica

The bloody night still replayed on a constant loop in my mind’s eye. Even after the pain medicine and cleaning up my wound, it still hurt something fierce. We were at the reapers clubhouse on Caulhoon, which neighbored their mechanics shop. It was starting to near morning now, and the weight of things just kept sinking in deeper and deeper.