21. Breaker

Chapter 21

Breaker

"What'd Dragon say?" Rock asks, getting my attention as I put my cell away.

"He said they're heading out in two hours instead of an hour. They want us to report back and let them know what we find before they leave."

"Why the delay?"

I shrug. "If I had to guess, I'd say your dad doesn't want to leave Gabby right now. That, and I'm pretty sure Dragon is doing his best to make up with Nicole about now."

Rock snorts, shaking his head. "Those two are just as bad as my parents."

I don't know how to respond to that, so I just hum in agreement.

"I could use some of that barbeque," he mutters, gesturing toward a gray and red building.

"Barb-B-Que Wagon?"

"Daddy wants some ribs," he mumbles, making me laugh.

"Dude, never refer to yourself as Daddy again," I warn while cringing.

"Don't flatter yourself. I only like women with big-ass titties. They love calling me Daddy."

"For fuck's sake, shut up before you make me punch out my own eardrums," I beg. "We need to get back on the road. Although, I'm not sure they came through here." I look around the small downtown area of Bryson City. The town is small as hell. As we scanned the area to make sure the Feral Kings weren't lying in wait, I ran across a population sign. The place has less than sixteen hundred people in it. Where I live is small, but nowhere near that. We have almost eight thousand residents and honestly, most days I think that's about seven thousand nine hundred and something too many.

"Let me run in and at least get a sandwich. I haven't had a bite since yesterday morning when my brother left with the others to guard the women."

"You have five minutes," I mutter. The guy is already gone, though. I look around the immediate area with a sigh. If Dragon was in my place, he'd run off and leave Rock behind. I know he's younger than me, but the kid really does have a lot of growing up to do. For his sake, I hope he does it soon. You can't be a member of a one percent club and not take it seriously. The fact that he is thinking of his stomach when they're about to embark on war is unreal to me. My club would pull his patch.

I exhale, trying to calm my nerves. I was hoping we'd find a clear signal that the Feral Kings came through here. We'd asked several people in town if they'd seen some bikers riding together this way. They all had denied seeing any bikers. Something about the way they answered, however, made me think they were lying. I don't know why they would lie to us, but I'm positive they are. That means the whole club could be hiding in this little city. Still, if we can't find any sign of them, we'll have to move on. I just hope that when we finally catch up with these assholes that they haven't hurt someone else.

I push my thoughts away, looking back at the building Rock had disappeared into with a frown. This is ridiculous. My gaze continues to move around, looking for anything that might help us, before it lights upon the most gorgeous woman that I've ever seen in my life. She's on the steps of a local courthouse, wearing a pink T-shirt that hugs her tits. The shirt is tucked into faded blue jeans that hug her curvy figure perfectly. She's just exactly how I like my women, hourglass figure where her top half is stacked with large breasts that make my teeth ache and an ass that is so fucking full that I want to grab hold of her and ride her hard. Just thinking about it makes my cock stand up at attention. Jesus, before I can stop myself, I'm already off my bike and starting to walk toward the beautiful goddess.

As if she can sense me staring at her, her gaze locks with mine. That's when I see her beautiful full lips. I lick my own, wishing I could taste her. I start to call out to her, but before I get the chance, some man comes up beside her—wearing a damn suit. He puts his arms around her and pulls her close. He hugs her tightly and her eyes close as she returns the embrace.

I fight with the need to go rip him from the asshole's hands. Before I can make my mind up on what to do, Rock calls out to me.

"I'm ready!" he yells. I turn to face him as he takes a big bite of a sandwich he has gripped in his hand.

I grunt in reply. I look back across the street to find the woman, but she's already gone. Disappointment fills me. I shake my head. I don't have time for a woman. Besides, if the dickweed in a suit is any indication, I'm definitely not the woman's type. For some reason, that pisses me off.

I settle myself back on my bike and start it up. It takes Rock a few minutes, but I hear the racking of his pipes a little later. I look over at him as he hoovers down the remains of his food. He's got a bottle of water that he takes a swig of before putting it into his cupholder. I pull out of the small, graveled parking lot and Rock is right beside me.

We drive for about twenty minutes. I can't find anything out of the ordinary. We're on US-74 and I'm frustrated as hell. I don't even know if we should have turned onto this road. We're kind of flying blind. We only decided to check out Bryson City after some reports the Saint's Outlaws had received stating that the Feral Kings had been staying in this area often in the last few months. I'm about to suggest we choose another route—beginning our trek to Rutledge, which is where everyone figured these idiots would go. Before I can get the words out, I hear Rock scream out. It's so loud, I hear it over the roar of my bike. I watch as his bike bobs and weaves out of control. Rock is trying to hold on to it, but I can see a sea of red blood out over the bottom half of his cut. What the fuck? Was he shot? Rock careens into a guardrail, the bike crashes down and Rock's body flies in the air and doesn't stop until his body crashes into a tree.

I take my bike to the side of the road, then use my foot to put the kickstand down. I jump off as shots ring in the air again and draw my weapon while looking around. I don't see anyone. It has to be a fucking sniper. If not that, then the shooter is disguised damn good. I look for anything out of the normal—something that doesn't fit the forest background that we're surrounded by. That's when I see a glint coming about thirty yards out, hidden behind a huge oak tree. I shoot in that direction, but I feel the minute a bullet rips through my body. It enters just below my left shoulder and the pain is white-hot and so intense that it robs me of breath. I shoot through the pain, hoping to kill the fucker that just shot me. I scrunch down behind my bike, my heart pounding away with me. I'm feeling woozy, but I fight it off. I can't afford to pass out right now. I continue to shoot, thinking that I hit my target at least once. Unfortunately, someone else has joined in the gunfire. This guy is on the other side of me. I feel another bullet hit me and I'm thinking I should have worn one of those fancy Kevlar cuts that Dragon ordered. It feels too damn bulky for me, so I passed. Suddenly, I'm wishing I had done as asked. I'm in the middle of nowhere. I'm pretty sure Rock is already dead and hell, I know I'm currently living on borrowed time. Even now, the world is starting to turn black.

I struggle, trying to hold on, but my eyes begin blinking as they grow heavier. "Fuck," I hiss, wishing I could talk to my sisters and parents one last time. Shockingly, an image of the gorgeous blonde from earlier comes to mind. If I have one regret, it's not tasting her beautiful lips at least once.

With that thought, I give in to the darkness. I can't fight it. I fall to the hard, unforgiving ground.

Of all the ways I thought I'd buy it, I didn't think it'd be like this—all alone on a fucking road that I don't even know. I wait, figuring I'd lose consciousness. Everything is still dark because I can't make my eyes open. My heartbeat is slower and erratic. Death is coming. I didn't even know you could be dizzy when you weren't able to open your eyes, but I am. The shots have stopped now. Unfortunately, I can hear at least two people approaching.

"Are they dead?" one asks. Someone delivers a kick to my stomach. I can't even groan with the pain. I don't have the energy to speak. My legs feel like, damn, two-hundred-pound weights.

"This one is," a voice above me says.

"What about the other?"

"Still breathing, but barely."

"Do we finish him off?"

"Naw, let the fucker stay where he's at. If he dies, that's fine. If not, then that damn Savage crew will know they won't survive attacking us."

"What are we going to do with the other?"

"Let's throw him over the guardrail and into the creek—bike and all. We'll drag the other and take his bike about an hour from here. That way none of the cops or fucking traitor clubs will think to look here."

"Sounds like a plan," he agrees.

I'm careful to continue proving that I'm dead. I know what life I have depends on how well I fool these guys. I want enough energy to take them out, but I just don't have it. I'm as weak as a kitten. The next thing I know, I'm flying through the air and rolling down a rocky embankment. That's when, thankfully, I finally lose complete consciousness.

It's over.