Page 123 of Beautifully Shattered
“You three fucking done?” I snap, trying to keep my focus on the road as the vans up ahead start to slow. “JD, text Smitty. Let him know we are about to breach.”
They all fall quiet then, their attention shifting to what’s about to happen.
“Remember, once we’re through the gates, you two stay the fuck down until I tell you to move. You both listen to me or JD, and don’t go fucking rogue.”
“Got it,” Jols agrees, and when Abbey doesn’t answer, my eyes meet hers in the mirror again, and she fucking salutes me.
Jesus. I think we’ve created a monster.
“All teams alert!” Riggs’ voice crackles through the radio again. “We’re breaching in three, two, one!”
Dust kicks up from the vans in front of us as they hit the gas, and when I glance back in the rearview, Jols and Abbey are hidden from sight, giving me a clear view of the other vehicles in our convoy tailing us.
We’re out in the sticks, north of Diamond Creek, and with the lockdown, the quiet roads make everything feel like a fucking ghost town. But that works well for us.
No witnesses.
I white-knuckle the steering wheel as my Landy rumbles over the cattle grate at the driveway entrance, the car bouncing us around as we speed up the pothole-riddled dirt road.
“Hold on to your tits!” JD yells from next to me, clutching the hand grip for dear life as we’re tossed around from the fucking shit conditions of the driveway.
“Engage!” Riggs roars through the radio, and the next second, I hear gunfire erupt up ahead.
That word means two things.
It’s time to shoot shit, and time for the pack of hogs to join us.
The old farm property is littered with rusty car wrecks, scrap metal, and all kinds of junk.
Three of the vans ahead veer off to the right, towards the old shed Moore confirmed is the clubhouse, while we follow behind Riggs and two more Marx SUVs, taking the road that snakes around to the back of the property where a house sits, junk lining the fence along a vacant paddock and dam.
“Cars two and three, secure the house,” Riggs barks through the radio, and I have to slam on the brakes as the vans veer sharplyleft towards the old, weathered farmhouse, where several Rebels are already spilling out.
“Stay down!” I yell right as bullets start pelting the car from the house.
A squeal comes from the back seat, and I know it’s my Angel, and fuck, she’d better be alright or I’m gonna go fucking apeshit.
Planting my foot on the accelerator again, I steer us away, following Riggs and another car around the back where Moore said Darla and Nessy were being held.
“Bus up ahead,” Riggs informs, and I spot it past the cars. The old school bus Moore said would be there.
The red flash of taillights has me slamming on the brakes, just before Marx security pour out of their cars, guns raised and shooting.
“Stay down!” I bark, slamming the car into park and gripping my gun.
JD and I lock eyes, and the second I nod, we’re both out the doors, guns raised, firing at anything wearing a Rebels’ cut.
Most of the Rebels are fighting on the other side of the clubhouse, but a few have slipped out here, heading for the same place as us.
The old school bus.
With the Marx team backing us up, I barely need to squeeze off a shot, and it’s only a matter of minutes before the coast is clear.
“Angel!” I shout, fucking stunned she’s not already right behind me.
Jols and Abbey scramble out of the Landy, guns up, eyes scanning for any remaining threats.
“Now you follow instructions,” I growl, and even though she looks like some sort of dark golden angel with her blonde messy hair and those fucking sexy, smoky eyes, when she moves up to my side and glances up, I see the vulnerability flickering in her gaze.
