Page 51 of Kick

“Yeah,” I admit.

“Let me guess—you fucked her into submission?”

“Somethin’ like that.” I raise the gun to his head. I don’t wanna shoot him. He’s the only fuckin’ friend I have left in this entire world, but I will if I have to. Sometimes decisions have to be made to ensure your self-preservation, and while I don’t think Tank would kill me over this, if I had to choose between me and him, there’s no question of who comes out on top.

“You really wanna do this? Where the fuck you gonna go, Kick? Prez is already jacked up on the idea of you betrayin’ the club. He’s had a tail on you for a month that you don’t even fucking know about.”

“What the hell are you talkin’ about? You didn’t wanna tell me this shit?”

He laughs. “If I’d told you, they’d be stringing my guts up like Christmas lights. I like them where they are. I knew–” He shakes his head. “Ithoughtyou’d be smart enough to stay away from the bitch.”

“I stayed the fuck away. She came lookin’ for me.”

“And you couldn’t do what you had to.”

“Could you?” I ask, but I know that’s a stupid question, ’cause Tank never cared for anyone but himself. Tank feels nothing, and right about now, I’m starting to think it’s a pretty good way to be. “Hand over your keys, and get on the ground,” I command.

“You really wanna fuckin’ do this?”

“Not really,” I admit. “But I don’t have another fuckin’ choice, so get the fuck on the ground before I shoot you in the head.”

He tosses his keys to me and puts his hands behind his head, as he slowly sinks to his knees. “They’ll find you. Can’t go to Slayer; he’ll take your girl and boot you out on your arse, and then he’ll be callin’ Prez to tell him exactly where to come pick you up from.”

“Lay down,” I snap, and walk over to Lauren. “Princess, if I give you the gun, are you gonna shoot him?”

“Yes,” she says without hesitation.

Ask a stupid question ...

I sigh. “Wrong answer, baby.”

I keep the gun firmly trained on Tank’s head as I circle his huge form. The fucker knows he can take me, he knows it as well as I do, and though I’m the one holding the gun, he’s the one with the power.

“Weapons, where?” I bark out, half expecting him to tell me to go fuck myself.

“Piece in my leathers, knife in my left boot.”

I squat down and retrieve the gun, shoving it in the front of my jeans. I reach into his boot to retrieve the knife, but I come up empty-handed. Tank rears his foot back, throwing me off balance. He reaches into his right boot and pulls a knife, flinging out his arm and stopping its path a quarter inch from my skin at the same time as I press the barrel of my gun to his head. Behind him in my periphery Lauren stands stock-still.

“Sorry, brother, but I had to make it look believable. They watch the tape back and see me lying low without a fight, I’m as dead as Frogger is, and Red before him.”

I yank the blade from his hand, push the gun harder against his skull, forcing him to lay back down on the pavement.

“Better hide well, brother. If you don’t, you’re a dead man.” He calls to me as I back away with the gun still trained on his head, and I grab Princess, pulling her over to the custom Harley Night Rod belonging to Tank. It’s a fuckin’ Cadillac when compared to my 1991 Fat Boy, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. I throw my leg over, the gun still in my hand, as I flip the kickstand, and turn the key, revving the throttle with one hand once Princess slips on behind me.

I pull the helmet from the handlebars and hand it to her, shouting at her to put it on, over the roar of the engine. Then I pass her the gun with a warning as loaded as the chamber. “Shoot him, Princess, and I throw you off this bike. You got me?”

“Yeah,” she snaps. “I got you.”

She wraps one arm around my waist. The other is pointed right at Tank, but as we drive past the corner and by the back entrance to the clubhouse, Juke and Bear exit. It takes my dad all of two seconds to see the gun in Lauren’s hand and Tank on the ground. I don’t think he even registers who’s driving Tank’s bike, but that sure as hell doesn’t give him pause. He pulls his piece and aims at us. I twist the throttle and we lurch forward around the clubhouse and towards the main gate. Someone hit the emergency lockdown switch from the inside. I push the bike faster, and clear the gate before it closes, but the weight’s thrown off because I’m not used to driving such a massive bike, and we skid out when we hit the street. It takes me a second or two to right the bike, and it’s seconds we didn’t have to lose because dear old Dad and Bear made it through the gate after us. I begin weaving all across the road in an attempt to dodge the bullets they’re shooting at us.

“Princess, if you want your revenge on those fuckers, now is the time,” I shout over the roar of the bike. She doesn’t hesitate, just holds me tighter with one arm while flinging the other out behind her and firing off several bullets.

“Fuck. I’m down,” she yells, and then throws the piece. She reaches around to pull the gun from the front of my jeans. Her hand on my cock is distracting, but not as distracting as the almighty explosion I hear seconds after she starts firing shots again. I glance behind us. Juke is still riding our tail, but Bear and his bike are scattered all over the road. “Jesus Christ, Princess,” I shout, but inside I’m filled to bursting with fuckin’ pride and sexual fuckin’ frustration, because fuck me, chicks with guns are hot.

Lauren lets out a triumphant growl that has all the blood in my body racing to my dick. The shots behind us make that pride short lived, and I switch my focus back to the road stretching out in front of me. It’s early morning—three or four, maybe? Apart from the occasional car parked at the curb, the streets are completely deserted.

I weave all over the road, taking a turn at high speed that leads to the freeway. My dad follows. This is one road that’s not deserted. It’s not exactly peak-hour traffic, but there’s a steady flow of cars, trucks, and the occasional bus. I have no desire to stay on the highway. Too many cameras, too many cops, too much at fucking stake to be a sitting duck. We fly across multiple lanes, weaving in and out of oncoming traffic. Lauren’s not shooting anymore, but Juke sure as hell is. If there’s one thing I know about my father, it’s that he can’t stand to lose. Even if it means getting flattened by an SUV. And that’s the only way he’ll give up, is if he’s dead.

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